life according to me

Category: Television

Choosing to Listen

Remember the movie Jerry McGuire? Remember the part where Rene Zellweger said, “You had me at hello...”

I watched Obama’s 30 minute spot yesterday evening. I watched it twice, listening hard for something I hadn’t heard or didn’t know. Listening with someone else’s ears — perhaps someone who won’t listen, just to try and imagine what they might hear.

Later, I listened to the talking heads banter back and forth about whether it was too much, or too soon, or too expensive. At some point, a screen caption on CNN questioned whether the Democrats were buying the election and I shook my head. They’re so foolish.

He had me at the wheat waving in the wind.

I guess that makes me a willing participant, because if I heard him correctly, he’d like us to be a part of what this country can become once again. And since I’ve never known any of my strongly felt opinions to sit quietly while others, stumbling over their illogical fears and deep-seated issues with stereotypes, feel comfortable expressing theirs, anxiety in their voices, panic in their eyes.

It’s not rational, that behavior, and I wonder what it must feel like to be so entrenched in one’s beliefs that there’s no possibility of change.

I think ultimately, that attitude is what forced me out of my profession. The idea of being surrounded by people who have no vision, who can only think of possibilities that fit inside a tiny box in the corner labeled, “My Life,” and seem to fear not knowing what lies around the next corner exhaust me.

I used to have the energy to argue with them, but I just don’t any more.

I just want to wallow in the wonder of possibility and hope that we all have something amazing ahead of us. Something that will slowly peel the layers off the onion-like fear mongers I hear booing in response to their candidates’ empty comments.

But I will continue to worry about people who insist upon making others’ life choices their own business, and work hard to push others to see as they do — that the world isn’t as diverse as it actually is, and that not everyone should have the same opportunities they’ve had in life — some of which weren’t necessarily earned.

Can you choose your parents? Your country of birth, your gender, your…

No.

But I can choose to keep my mind open and allow that to help form my opinions, even when I don’t care for those I’m trying to understand.

October 30, 2008
You, too can enjoy life past 30
Today is my birthday. And as much as I can say that many women my age choose not to admit their age, I’m proud of mine.

I’m 52 years old. Not 52 years young, or 52 years better. It doesn’t need to be made into something other than what it is.

Fifty-two.

The year I was born, The Platters recorded “The Great Pretender,” Elvis made it to U.S. hit charts for the first time, and Doris Day’s serenade of “Que Sera, Sera” let all who listened know that the future was not for us to decide.

I beg to differ.

Carousel was playing in theaters, and The Edge of Night could be seen on television. Jackson Pollock died in a car crash, Eisenhower was re-elected President, and IBM invented the “Hard Disk Drive.”

Not that long ago, but at the same time, several lifetimes ago.

I have fond memories of growing up in the latter years of that decade and the earliest of the next, but would love to forget many of the years following, until high school was nearly half over. Yes, there were good things about those years, but I’d never live them again if given the opportunity.

Um, no thanks.

I’ve learned quite a bit in all this time, so indulge me, and I’ll give you the short version:
1. The concept of Family is not something to be taken lightly. A bottle of wine can help.
2. Quiet times during the day are the best, even if they’re only five minutes long and in a dark closet.
3. It isn’t possible to watch Pride and Prejudice too many times no matter how much my son rolls his eyes.
4. It’s important to pay attention to what’s going on in the world. It doesn’t always make sense, but ignoring it makes even less sense.
5. Good friends are priceless.
6. Deep and lasting love is about Learning, Appreciation, and Compromise. Being silly frequently doesn’t hurt, either.
7. It is more than possible to appreciate the way your body looks, even though it’s rounder and more soft than it used to be, and lined and marked where it used to be smooth. Well, mine is.
So, Happy 52nd Birthday to me! Since most of the Bloggosphere seems to be made up of twenty and thirty somethings with very young children and who often write about aging, I hope this helps you know that life is good after 39 — in fact, better. It’s all about attitude.

And and occasional masque using French clay and lots of moisturizer.
September 3, 2008
A Cork for Ben Stein’s Mouth, please?

As much as I have enjoyed watching men and women athletes compete in the Olympic games over the years, and successfully pushing out the political crap that inevitably surrounds the games, I can say that I’m not sad I will no longer have the sound of the games on our television being the soundtrack of my day to day existence. Yes I loved Dressage even though I wondered how someone could spend tens of thousands of dollars on having the perfect score composed for her horse to compete to. And I truly enjoyed all the diving, although the gaunt bodies of some of the young Chinese women was disturbing. We jumped from our couch potato positions and cheered when Matthew Mitcham of Australia nosed out the Chinese diver for the gold medal in the high platform competition, and grinned each time he smiled and waved at the camera.

But there’s a political campaign going on. Still. At last. Finally.

And I’ve kept my eye on it all the way, which has been fairly painful considering all the talking heads I’ve had to sort through, enduring opinions and hair-splitting analysis of nothing. Trying to know what is really happening. Waiting.

I haven’t been one to watch the conventions in past years, because it always appears staged, and forced. I’ve always pictured a score of producers and marketers, advisors, and aides positioning the political puppets for those who may watch and, they hope, believe that it’s all true. They don’t think we’re very smart, and sometimes they are right.

But last night, I watched the before show. I watched CNN and MSNBC listening for the always present biases each has, and skipped whomever spoke (Pelosi…) until Caroline Kennedy spoke to introduce her uncle. I had to watch.

I was seven years old when I first saw Caroline Kennedy, at her father’s funeral, on our small black and white boxy television set. It’s the first time I realized that the world was bigger than my family and my home, and that sad things happened to people as young as I was. So when she speaks, I have to watch and think about the life she’s led and how it’s been shaped so differently than mine has been.

I watched Uncle Teddy, too, and listened to him, thinking more about the effort his presence there took than his words and respecting him for that alone.

But it was Michelle Obama I wanted to see and hear. She’s smart. She’s opinionated. She says what others think, but won’t say because they’re more comfortable criticizing others instead of standing up for what they believe. She won’t be someone who smiles demurely for photo ops when the new wing of a hospital opens somewhere or take on Literacy like it was something new that needed to be paid attention to. Her self-admitted “loud mouth” will be available on a regular basis, and to me, will represent more accurately what matters to me as a woman in today’s world whether I’m a “sister” or not. I believe her and respect women who are outspoken a hell of a lot more than those who feign disdain and then snark outrageously behind closed doors.

And for the polled 27% who are still pining for the loss of Hilary and are holding their potential votes hostage by actually saying they’ll vote for McCain? Give me a break. It truly reminds me of a child who, at someone else’s party, can’t deal with not being in the spot light so dumps over the punchbowl. Constructive if you’d like to spoil the party and leave everyone else remembering you for the giant red stain on your party dress. Get over yourselves and plug in your brains. Pull your heads out of your rumps, quit whining, and pay attention. It’s embarrassing.

To all the pundits who say this election is hinged upon independent votes? That would be me. But I’ve been decided for quite some time. My vote just keeps getting more solid with time, and nothing the GOP’s spin machine comes up with will distract me.

I will, however, have to quietly pardon myself to violently empty the contents of my stomach if I EVER have to listen to the truly obnoxious Ben Stein who was on CNN last night after Michelle Obama spoke. It was bad enough have to watch Larry King , but Ben Stein?

What a dislikable person.

This started out so nicely today, didn’t it?

August 26, 2008
The family that views together?

My mother loves watching television. Loves. It. So it’s been a challenge for her since arriving back in Paradise to adjust to our television viewing habits. Um, we don’t exactly have any?

She’s got to feel like she’s in TV Hell.

We do have shows we enjoy, but from my perspective, it’s more about being with my menfolk in the evening after dinner than the show itself. Sappy, but true. Now, the MoH would probably say, “Whatever,” to my response being the avid one-who-looks-forward-to-his-three-shows-that-aren’t-sports type person that he is, but you do get the idea, right?

Outside of those few shows on our highly intellectual viewing agenda (American Noodle, Bones, House, Top Chef…), we surf. Someone grabs the clicker while I’m putting the finishing touches on the latest recipe I’m subjecting my family to and their job is to find something we’ll all enjoy while we’re eating — nothing anyone really cares about. You know, like Dirty Jobs, which is great viewing while eating. Have you seen the one about the clean up after the toilets exploded? Nice.

This isn’t always as easy as it sounds since we’re usually ready to park our butts on the couch with food and beverage in hand around 7PM most nights. There’s never really anything on. One-hundred-fifty channels, not counting choices for the On-Demand channels or pay-per-view options and there’s nothing on. If you have a closet full of clothes and often feel as if you have nothing to wear, it would be similar to that feeling. Completely hopeless.

Like I said. We surf. It doesn’t matter that it’s 6:50 or 7:12, the one with the clicker stops at whatever looks good — erm, that would so not be Cash Cab, okay? Who thinks of that crap? We settle in while we eat, try to ignore the Doggo who waits patiently for any finished plate to lick, never blinking lest she miss that opportunity, and like the relatively content saps we are, watch whatever is semi-interesting. Sometimes, that means staring at the pretty pictures on one of the HD channels.

This is all very contrary to what my mom is accustomed to. She is a stalwart TV Guide person, planning her television viewing time meticulously. In fact, she enjoys reading said TV Guide aloud to others so that they, too, can know what is on and marvel at all the possibilities. So I’ve explained the on-line Guide to her. You know. That place that lists all shows on all channels across all hours of the next few centuries? Yes. That one. I’ve also shown her how the DVR works. That way she can record her favorites, then watch them while I’m wasting the prime years of my life *snort* sitting at my Mac every freaking morning of the week. Okay, so maybe not weekends. But still.

So she’s adjusting, but it’s got to be strange. Annoying? Probably downright aggravating. I know we can be that way. So I also encourage her to watch television in our bedroom when we’re downstairs. Warm the bed up, blow the cobwebs off the Sony and fire up the engine to see if it still runs. And she has. Once.

We have been enjoying American Noodle together, and that’s been fun, but I’m sure she’d like to hunker down with her own schedule, with her own television, which, by the way, is sitting in the garage with the rest of her Earthly possessions and is just about as big as the little bedroom I wedged her into. In fact, now that I think of it, that television is so enormous, I wonder if it will fit through the door.

Okay, so maybe not that big. But I don’t want to think about trying to carry it up the stairs. Besides, we don’t have cable active in that part of the house. Gawd forbid giving the RTR another reason to hole up in his cave. Besides, can TVs actually pick up stations without being hooked up anymore?

So this morning, after diligently recording Boston Legal and Grey’s Anatomy, do you think she’d actually be able to sit down and enjoy them? One would think so. But for some reason, the sound wasn’t working on the television. One of us must have pushed a mysterious button on the clicker and it’s hopeless to try and figure out which one it is without dorking the entire operation up beyond all repair. So I clicked off the power surge for a few minutes and let the whole thing reboot.

It works now.

But she’s upstairs messing around with her laptop which was freezing up every time she had more than a couple of windows open.

I have my fingers crossed that it’s fixed now, too.

Because, like I said, I’m in the prime of my life and have so many swell things to get on with.

Like vacation plans.

I finally found a cute little place in Sorrento for the second leg of our trip to Italy (I booked an apartment in Rome for the first leg) which is happening in less than six weeks and I am sooooooooo not ready…The Hotel del Mare sits nearly at the Marina Grande and is a winding, hilly walk to the center of Sorrento. A great way to work off the breakfast that comes with the room! It sounds like the four of us will be shoulder-to-shoulder and have some family bonding time.

But I am starting to get pretty excited about the whole thing.

It’s finally beginning to feel real!

May 23, 2008
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.

May 7, 2008
American Idol Short Timers

I’m throwing in my two cents on which people are going to get voted off American Noodle tonight, because I can imagine that you just may want to bump up your thinking about my ability to just know things. I can’t use this remarkable skill for anything that would make a difference, however, such as winning the Lotto, investing my new wealth in highly intelligent ways that would quadruple my winnings nearly over night.

You know.

Like when viral traffic is driven to your site after you show lame photos of celebs in compromising situations, or tell completely hilarious stories about what your little kids say about body parts and that sort of thing. *heart you, mel* Okay, so maybe not quite viral. But still.

Then I could be added to the list of the world’s richest people, causing them to look over at me when we are all lined up for our photoshoot and wonder…“How did she get here?”

You’re not falling for this?

Fine.

But here are my pix: In the list of “Boys,” 1) Luke (how he has made it this far is beyond me…) because he is the epitome of what Simon loves to call “cabaret” and reminds me of someone who takes the stage in a decent sized Vegas casino in the afternoon before the real action starts. But he is handsome, so if he isn’t booted off tonight, it’s because he keeps getting the hunkster vote. 2) David Hernandez. He sounds great when he’s on key (I know…), but gets lost in the mix. Well, that is until people found out what his day job used to be. That will probably get him votes since it has nothing to do with singing. Or, I’m thinking some members of the audience were really entertained about his bit on having boogers in his nose during his little pre-singing video on Tuesday.

And for my pix on the “Girls,” 1) Kady. I honestly think the only reason she wasn’t voted off last week is because she looked almost exactly like Alaina who could actually sing. 2) Amanda has to be off. I know it’s nice to keep a rocker around, but the person needs to be able to sing and she’s already got the attention she needed to hook up with a band who needs a lead. Plausible? Nah — I’m just making it all up. But it’s funny watching her not smile, like if you’re a rocker chick, it’s against the rules.

Okay, you heard it here. Place your bets at the door on your way out.

And take a second to admire our sunset this evening. I haven’t seen one quite like this in quite a while, thanks to the RTR who knows his mom loves a colorful sky and yelled from downstairs so that I wouldn’t miss it.

Nice kid, huh?

March 6, 2008
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.

March 5, 2008
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…

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.

March 4, 2008
Band Memming on American Idol Night

Let’s see…work on my blog, or accept Olga, the Traveling Bra’s challenge to create my very own album cover? That’s a no brainer. Tah-dahhhhhh….

Okay, so Juan Villafuerte doesn’t exactly sound like a band, but I suppose it could be. You know, like Jethro Tull. And the title of the album (do they still call them that?) is from the end of a quotation from “Song of Myself” by Walt Whitman:

“Do I contradict myself?

Very well then, I contradict myself,

(I am very large, I contain multitudes.)”

Hmmm…Whitman perplexes me sometimes. Deep fellow.

(more…)

January 15, 2008