Holiday Munchies

Oh man, I've been so worried about Christmas shopping, making desserts for Thanksgiving and all other forms holiday distractions that I totally forgot that I was bound to be eating like a Stage 4 stoner by the end of the week.

It always starts with Thanksgiving.  Even though I hate turkey, (and really hate turkey leftovers), somehow my stomach still begins is unauthorized regimen of expanding and contracting around mid-to-late November.  By the last week of the month its new routine becomes strictly expanding and will remain so until the new year's threshold has been crossed.

Adding a ham to the Thanksgiving mix this year has only worsened my piggyness.  Thankfully we finished off the leftover swine by this evening, but the damage has already been done.  The starter gun has sounded and I've been eating all day.  (In fact, I just literally devoured an entire granola bar in order to summon the strength to type that first paragraph and upload the brownie pic.  Phew!  I'm hungry again.)  I've especially been enjoying the barrel of leftover mash potatoes and the last dozen of the soft wheat rolls.  Oh yeah, and the white chocolate-drizzled brownies which have been perfectly cut to hypoglycemic-friendly sized squares.  Mmmmmm...

I'm not opposed to eating, over-eating or even going up a pants size once a year.  (That's what the storage container in the basement stuffed with two different size options of pants is for.  Wink wink.)  In any given non-holiday month, I still usually eat six times a day.  But, man, there's something about post-Thanksgiving that's turns me into Cookie Monster, Jughead from Archie's gang and one of those disgusting hot dog-eating contestants all rolled into one.

I had intentions of taking a hike today to get some fresh air and to have a reason to have worked up such an appetite.  But, the most athletic exertion of energy I managed to muster up today has been 1) standing upright long enough in the shower to wash my hair and 2) continuously hitting the refresh button on my keyboard until the Black Friday internet crashes lulled and then post-victoriously checking four more names off of my Christmas list.  All while in my slippers and without tasting one breath of fresh air.

My body hasn't been in a total state of recline today.  I've been checking up with my kingdom on Castleville with such regularity that I think I may have convinced myself that my peasants and all of their livestock may starve to death once I return to work on Monday.  I've finished reading half a book, two magazines and rediscovered the PS2 console that I sometimes forget I own if there are not children visiting to remind me.

So, now that I remember my body is going to be convinced it's infected with a tapeworm for the next month or so, I will allow myself to overeat a little, as long as I can also convince my legs to journey further than the mailbox (to check for more magazines.)  I predict three more pounds of mashed potatoes consumed by this weekend's end with hopefully at least one hike squeezed in between servings.

Then again, it is supposed to rain, so maybe I'll just walk from the parking lot to the movie theater and call it even.  Popcorn, no butter?

Thankful

It's the day for giving thanks!  I was completely prepared to do that, but then my stomach became too hungry to function.

Let's try it anyways.  A little dip in blood sugar can't do that much damage.

I'm thankful for my family.  Large on both sides.  (In number not proportion, come on now!)  For cousins who are like siblings and for siblings who are like friends.  For my mom whose hip is healing right on schedule.  And, for my dad (even though he is currently in a "people are coming over!" tizzy.)

I'm thankful for my last living grandparent "Grandma Great" who is turning 92 tomorrow.  And, I'm even more thankful that the strange dream I had the other night of her and my grandpa (who passed away nearly 20 years ago) wasn't an omen.  In my dream she had brown hair and was giggling, so happy to be with him. I thought it was a sign of their heavenly reuniting.  What a relief that we didn't get that call that morning.  And, I'm super thankful I have no powers of premonition.  (The tip off should have been that, in my dream, they were also on the lam from the law.  Bonnie and Clyde style.  They fled to my house and I fed them pudding.)

I'm thankful for my job, even though I may complain about it to some extent the other 364 days of the year. Having a job in Michigan is truly something to be thankful for.

I'm thankful for the invention of Ebay, which through its wonders I obtained the shirt I'm currently wearing for about five bucks.  And, also the sweater I wore the other day with the $60 price tag on it, for $7.99.

I'm thankful for the invention of Facebook, for giving me a way to catch up with long lost friends and family,  minus the cost of airfare, hotel fees and long-distance phone bills.  Sometimes you don't realize how much you've missed people, until you find yourself clamoring for a status update.

I'm thankful for Blogger and all of you readers for allowing me the creative outlet that my brain has been starving for.  I'm especially thankful when you click "funny", "cool" and "interesting".  (But, a little less thankful when you click "weird".)

I'm thankful that after thirty-seven years of wishing, I'm finally getting to enjoy a Thanksgiving ham today.  Which makes me a little extra thankful for my younger sister who is preparing it for us and that she isn't absent, sick, lazy or otherwise unable to cook it.

I'm thankful for my Lord and Savior, without whom my stubborn heart wouldn't even have the ability to be thankful.

And, I'm thankful for those eight little rugrats who rule my heart.  I'd have less gray hair and a lot more money in my bank account without them, but I wouldn't make that trade for anything in the world!  For they're the ones who have given me my "Aunt's Life". ♥

Muppet Mania

Why don't we get things started?

I.  Love. Muppets.  I love Muppets in all shapes and sizes and everything they encompass.  From Sesame Street to The Muppet Show to Muppet Babies to watching them take Manhattan. 

They were puppets!  (I loved puppets!  I had my very own cast of puppets that I'd fashioned out of used toilet paper rolls.  When  I'd run out of used toilet paper rolls, sometimes I'd be forced to slide the cardboard tube out of the roll that was currently in use.) 

And, they sang and danced. 

And, they sang about putting on makeup! (Makeup being a dream beyond my childhood reach in the late 70's/early 80's.  I learned this swiftly when trying to get away with sloppily applying my mom's bright pink lipstick, not only to my mouth, but to my cheeks and eyelids as well.  And, then following up that act by walking around the house like that as if no one would notice.) 

They had celebrity guest stars each week (I knew this because Kermit would cackle at the beginning of each opening number, "It's The Muppet Show, with our very special guest star, Ms. Madeline Kaaahhhhhn!!!!") but this went completely over my head because the real stars, as any dummy could see, were The Muppets themselves.

In fact, I loved the Muppets so much as a kid that I missed my aunt's bridal shower because... well, that's what you get for trying to throw a party on a Friday night!

My Muppet love has been newly restored by the debut of an all new Muppet movie that is coming to theaters this very week.  (One, two, three... Geek out!)  I've almost got my nephews talked into accompanying me to see it.  (Don't want to look like the weirdo adult going to see the kids movie without any kids in tow.)  Although, the five-year-old's initial response was, "Who are the Muppets?"  When I showed him Kermit on a magazine cover, his next response was, "Oh!  Those guys?  They creep me out!"

What?!?

I guess Muppets have always had a way of eliciting strong responses.  Although it was my most favoritest show on earth, I definitely had my list of felt celebs faves and the ones I only tolerated because they happened to turn up every week on my favorite show.

On the "Like" list were:

• Fozzie Bear:  How could you not love such a cuddly wuddly widdle bear whose one and only agenda was to spend his every waking moment trying to make you laugh?  Wocka wocka!
• Scooter:  I had a strange human-puppet crush on Scooter.  He was so adorable and helpful.  But, mostly I coveted his shiny windbreaker.  (And, girlfriends got to wear boyfriends' jackets from what I understood about dating at the time.)
• Janice:  My sister and I used to laugh at her and call her "spaghetti hair".  But, boy did I secretly envy that head of uncooked pasta that I publicly mocked.
• The rest of The Electric Mayhem:  Always a fan of rock and roll and anyone who could play "cool" instruments.  But, let's be honest, if puppets could muster the ability to inhale, these guys had it figured out.  I was particularly suspicious about blue-faced sax player.  And, just try and tell me that Animal hasn't been snooping around the medicine cabinet!
• Kermit: You'd have to be a terrorist not to love this sweet-hearted singing froggy.  Case in point, I played a violin solo of "Rainbow Connection" for my fifth grade music recital.  The audience literally gasped when the teacher introduced my piece as if Kermie himself would appear, swaying along in accompaniment atop my bow.
• Rowlf:  Another felt mammal too cute and cuddly not to love.  (And, I've always been a sucker for a piano man!)
• Beeker:  He seems incredibly annoying to me now, as an adult.  But, I thought I had my impression of him nailed back in the day.  (As if it were so complicated!)
• Rizzo:  Yes.  The rat.  I thought his "Rat Scat" in The Muppets Take Manhattan was the bomb.  "The coffee's fine.  Come on in!" one rat sings while skinny-dipping in a pot of coffee.  Cracked me up every time!  (Plus, to add to my jacket-envy condition, he usually wore a slick-looking Letterman's jacket.)
• Robin:  A mini-Kermit. What's not to love?

These Muppets and skits were on the "Dislike" list and I merely tolerated their presence out of my undying love for the show:

• Miss Piggy:  I never understood why Kermit put up with her.  Even as a small child, I understood that this was an extremely unhealthy relationship and I secretly wished that her Pigs in Space costar, Link, would find some way to seduce her away.  I never understood how a frog with a heart so golden could tolerate a such a bossy sow wearing way too much mascara.  And, just so we're clear, Hoggy... nobody believes that you're actually French.
• Sam the Eagle: Sam's largeness, both in stature and eyebrows, frightened my childhood self.
• Swedish Chef:  Memorable, but pointless.  He brought much shame to myself and that whopping 25% of Swedishness that makes up my heritage.  Nothing he said was at all discernible and nothing he cooked was even close to being edible!
• Pigs in Space:  To me, Pigs In Space rhymed with Bathroom Break.  And, it was a very good time for one.
• Lew Zealand:  You may not know him by name, but you'll recognize his face to the right.  He sat in the audience obnoxiously tossing fish around for no apparent reason.  Being raised with manners, I thought he was incredibly ill-behaved to be sitting in such a posh setting as Muppet Theater.  I hated him.  And, now I hate the fact that his face is posted on my blog.  I'd like to take him off of his puppeteer's hand and donate him as a chew toy to the pit bull sanctuary. 
• Statler and Waldorf:  Again, with the manners.  I thought heckling was highly inappropriate behavior.  Especially when aimed at such a sweetheart as Fozzie.
• Behemoth:  Behemoth may have been a frequent character in my childhood nightmares.  But, he did set the perfect visual image to the tuba solo in the opening number.
• Dr. Bunsen Honeydew:  Where are his eyes?  Did he even have eyes.  I could tolerate Dr. Honeydew, though, because with him came Beeker.  But, geesh!  I can't help it!  Science teachers are soooo boring!

But, I guess even the most disliked of felt figures left their imprint on my psyche.  Love her or hate her, I doubt there's anyone of my generation who can honestly say they've never "Hi-yah!"ed a younger sibling.  And, poor Sam couldn't help his eyebrows.  Is that any reason to loathe our nation's most patriotic of birds?  As an adult, I even came to find a comic appreciation for the heckling old timers.  They had to enjoy the show a little bit.  They're the ones who kept buying those box tickets and coming back!  And, Lew... Nah, I still hate Lew.

I could go on and on all night, but I'll wrap up this post with a few of my favorite Muppet moments.

The Opening Number:

They'd change around the theme song a little every year.  There was one version of the opening, I remember clear as day but can not find it anywhere... Where there was a puppet couple ballroom-dancing during the instrumental bridge of the theme song (The melody that eventually became Statler and Waldorf singing lines) and when their bodies came together, the female puppet's chest fit into the male puppet's pot belly like perfect-fitting puzzle pieces.  I always thought that was so clever!  Does anyone else remember this?  Leave a message in the comment field below if so, so I can prove I'm not crazy!

"Rat Scat" from The Muppets Take Manhattan:

The first Muppet Babies appearance (also from The Muppets Take Manhattan):

We cooed over this for months wearing a constant rewind on our VHS cassette until, lo and behold, they made the Muppet Babies into an official Saturday morning cartoon.  Bravo!

Bird Watching

Our backyard was such a flutter this afternoon with all of our favorite colored Michigan birds.  Bright red cardinals, blue jays of all sizes, woodpeckers, robins, chickadees.

They inspired me to go outside while the laundry was running and try my hand at bird photography.  By the way, my little point and shoot camera only zooms to 8X, so I didn't have the highest of expectations when trudging outdoors.

My first shot: I can't tell if it's a quickly moving bird or a leftover dead leaf that couldn't bring itself to take its plunge to the ground yet.  Sigh...

Matters weren't helped by the fact that a noisy blue jay alerted the avian world of my presence with his rude warning cackle.  I quickly learned the bigger the bird, the bigger the brain.  All deliciously chubby birds of color quickly fled, never to return, leaving me with nothing but a tree full of dull, tiny, chattering sparrows.

One brave cardinal decided to dare the berry-lined fence that divides our backyard from our neighbor's.  But, he was stubborn enough to stay twigs-in-face, apparently fully aware of my mission.  It's a camera, not a gun, Mint!  (Oh yeah, "Mint" was my childhood nickname for every cardinal that lived in the woods behind my family home growing up.  I would pretend there was only one and his name was Mint.  I'm guessing "Mint" came about when I was at a loss of words when searching for "Cinnamon".  I'd beg my mom to let me adopt Mint and keep him in a parakeet cage, but she never gave in.  To this day every cardinal is still Mint.  And, today, Mint was gorgeous, although a slight pain in the arse.)

There was also a chickadee who braved a safe distance, staying high enough out of reach and far enough to not quite capture by lens.  This led me on a goofy game of "What Part of  Being Human Makes the Birds Stay Away?"

Since I had been using my soft-footed "Indian Walk", I knew is wasn't my noisiness.  So, I then decided that the problem had to be: 1.) Me being an obvious large blob moving around a large open space and 2.) My eyes. 

To resolve issue #1, I moved my search up against the storage shed.  I leaned against its yellow wall and tried ferociously to blend.  #2's conclusion was drawn because I was bored enough to allow my brain to wander to the remembrance of that butterfly we once learned about in long-past science class, who has the natural defense mechanism of bearing spots on its wings that resemble an owl's eyes.  This makes birds think twice before diving in to eat it.  Since my own eyes are especially googly, I decided that birds must be equally intimidated by mine.

As a solution, I created this method of preventing my eyes from seeming like a threat: Don't look up for too long.  Looking up makes you eyes too big.  Hood your eyes between glances.  You might look half-sedated, but only the birds are watching and they don't know of these things.  Then cautiously glance again in the other direction.  Eyelids up.  Eyelids down.  Eyelids up.  All around.  (There was a little photo journalism initiated here to document the theory, but I decided it best not to share...)

Did I think this strategy would really work?  Eh, I was willing to pretend.  The day you give up playing make-believe is the day your eternal state of boredom begins.  Boredom, I resist.  So, I will play the eye game. 

And, soon came closer another chickadee.  Not afraid because of my eyelid shields.  Right?  Well, he soon flew away too and I felt defeated.  There was this baby blue jay with a tiny little tuft that I was really  hoping to get a shot of but, like I was still coming to terms with, the smart birds kept away.

I tried the front yard.  Eye game in play, trying my best to look bored and nonthreatening... No dice.

Changing subjects, I briefly tried to lure a frisky black squirrel from the neighbor's yard.  If you just asked, "Black Squirrel???", you must not be from these parts.  Whenever someone visits from out of state or even from outside our ten-mile radius, they're always taken aback by our squirrels.  Yes, we have your everyday grey squirrels too.  But, the sight of one painted black causes some to ask, "What is that?  A skunk?"  Yes, around here we're into removing skunks' white stripes, giving them lipo, and teaching them to climb trees.  And, with that I hand them their free pass to the 21st century.  Metro-Detroit: Our wildlife as diverse as our schools.

Well, my squirrel buddy seemed to continue to favor the neighbors yard, so I decided my best bet was the whistling tree of sparrows.  It was becoming pretty populated by now.

I then decided I wanted to catch a bird in flight, so more games of attraction ensued. 

A round of "Eye Game" followed by a round of "See the grass. Be the grass." All the while whistling a melody that may have sounded more like the theme from Close Encounters of the Third Kind than any known bird call, but lo and behold...

There it is.  Right of center.  "Bird in Flight".

Shortly after, a round of fireworks/semi-automatic bullet-shooting went off in one of the neighbors yards, causing even the dumb sparrows (and me) to flee in every direction!

On my way to take cover, I found one last non-moving target of proof of active bird life.

Call me weird, call me Crazy Bird Lady (even though I've been openly campaigning for the "Crazy Cat Lady" title for the past several years...) but one thing you'll never be able to call me is bored.

P.S.  And, I guess it's safe to say that I'm a terrible bird photographer.

The H Word

Happy Holidays!  That's right... I said it.  The H word!

In doing so, some people just moved my name from the "Good Christian" column to the "Bad Christian" one.  Fortunately for me, whoever it is that edits this change isn't the same editor as The Book of Life, so I don't really give a hoot.

When did "holiday" become a swear word?  It's not a lie... There are several holidays out there.  I hope you enjoy them all!  Thanksgiving is one and it's coming up this next week and I'm a big fan of synonyms.  So, you might hear me tossing off any combination of "Happy Thanksgiving!", "Have a nice Turkey Day!", "Enjoy your holiday!", "Gobble gobble to you!" in the coming few days.  No one will clutch their pearls and gasp when this happens in November.

But, come December, get ahold of that necklace because you might hear me saying that word in the most offensive of months!  At Christmas-time.  And, shame on me for not assuming your religious beliefs or nationality.  Shame on me for living in such a diverse metropolis.  Shame on me for having friends of different faiths.  Shame on me for having manners and being inclusive.

I would never take the Christ out of my Christmas.  My faith is the most important thing I have and hold.  I do celebrate Jesus' birth on this holy day.  But, if someone else doesn't celebrate the same holiday as me, why would I force them be merry on mine?  And, why want to deprive them from being happy on theirs?

If you're sure of someone's religious or social practices it's lovely to greet them with more specificness.  Then is the time to lavish on the Merry Christmases, Happy Hanukkahs, Jolly Kwanzaas or whatnots.  But, to the friendly stranger on the street, to be utterly p.c. on December 25th do we use a general hyphenated "Merry Christmas-Chinese Food and Movie Day-One Day Before Kwanzaa-One Week Before New Years to you!"?  Or do we save our breaths and just consolidate it to "Holiday"?  Many people who do celebrate Christmas, don't celebrate Christ.  Are they excluded from the Christian greeting and delegated to only using "Xmas"?  Some Muslims celebrate our holiday, some don't.  How do I make that call?  And, what about the local Jehovah's Witnesses who don't celebrate anything?  This all seems like too much homework for a two second passing with a stranger!

I do think it's a little silly to overly generalize holiday-specific items.   Referring to a Christmas tree as a "Holiday Tree" to me is as silly as saying "Holiday Dreidel".  If someone wants overdo it with the political correctness, isn't that just more funny than it is offensive?  They just don't understand!  Besides, Jesus doesn't live in my tree, He lives in my heart.

So, instead of being offended this season, just be delighted that a stranger is friendly enough to stop and greet you.  Because you won't have a Merry Christmas if you spend the whole day grumbling.  If you can't bring yourself to say "holiday" you can always give an everyday "hello" or simply plain go back to ignoring strangers altogether.  Besides, everybody knows what the real "H" word is anyway... It's heinie.

Matthew 7:1 "Judge not, that ye be not judged."

Christmas Shopping: Get set!

Sooo... With round one of shopping complete, it turns out I've already managed to buy one gift for one niece that she already owns, and another gift for another niece that she received last yuletide.  My nephews that I've already bought for keep giving me more ideas, but the nephews I haven't shopped for yet are still leaving me stumped.  Two steps forward, three steps back.

When I asked my parents what they'd like for Christmas, my dad responded with, "All I want is for your mom (the hip surgery patient) to be able to walk well again on Christmas." and I believe I may have promised to get him that.  (Oops.  Flashbacks to little Cindy in that very Brady Christmas episode immediately followed.)  The prospect of lightening my shopping budget got the best of me.  A working hip would come free to me, but with heavy pressure on Mom's physical therapist.  (Step it up, bud!)

The nine-year-old keeps begging me for clues about what he's getting.  He says, "If you won't tell me, will you at least tell my sister?  She won't tell me.  I promise!  She's really good at keeping secrets!"  Sounds like a conspiracy in the works to me.  He's putting way too much pressure on me to come up with something spectacular, so I set the bar especially low by telling him I got him tons of socks and underwear, while sounding really excited about it.  Apparently, he doesn't remember complaining last year that he was sure I had just bought him a stack of social studies books.  Giving such a suggestion to your prankster aunt will get you nowhere good, fast.  (See video below)

Well, I foresee trips to the return counter in my immediate future, erase marks on my checklist, all the while with my next paycheck seeming eons away.  I think what I really may be in dire need of is an early screening of A Charlie Brown Christmas so Linus can remind me once again what Christmas is really all about.

And, maybe Thanksgiving deserves a good hard look for at least one week.  'Tis the season!

Things I Remember, But Don't Need to Know

Have you ever wondered how big of a percentage of your memory contains completely useless information?  I know so much stuff that's a complete waste of brain matter that I thought maybe if I purged some of it here, I could free up some prime real estate.

Things I remember for no good reason:

• Kim Kardashian was married for 72 days before filing for divorce.  Whoopity-doo!  All forms of media are pushing this fact on me and now it's stuck in the place where all the other celebrities short-lived unions are stored.  J-Lo and Cris Judd.  Kid Rock and Pam Anderson.  Lisa Marie Presley and Nic Cage.  Renee Zelleweger and Kenny Chesney (still trying to wrap my head around that one!)  Britney Spears and that guy from her high school.  Drew Barrymore and that bar owner.  Drew Barrymore and Tom Green.  Julia Roberts and Lyle Lovett.  Actually, I'd like to keep the Roberts-Lovett marriage in there if I can.  It was one of the most unexpected, quirkiest, barefooted (and soon forgotten) short-lived unions between two celebrities that I actually like.  But, the rest of you all, be gone!
• All of the words to Jabberwocky.  I memorized this with great fervor in the seventh grade and have never forgotten it.
• All the words to "Pink Elephants On Parade" from Disney's Dumbo.  You know, the song the hallucinated elephants sang to Dumbo right before he woke up, hung over, in a tree full of jive-talking crows?
• My high school gym locker combination.  Don't believe me?  4-24-2.  Right, left twice and right again.
• The fact that all of my elementary school teachers wore polyester elastic-wasted pants (that made their butts look big) and shoes with wooden soles that clip-clopped down the halls, so you could hear them coming from a mile away.
• That my childhood neighbor from across the street once had a dead squirrel stuck in his tree.  Its head was inside a hollow about 15 feet up and it died somehow with its butt and tail hanging out.  We couldn't look away and peeked in on it for several days in a row.  One afternoon we were surprised to find it suddenly tailless!  The mystery still remains unsolved.
• That same neighbor's daughter was showing me a family photo album in which her dad had cut their dog's head out of the picture frame when taking it.  She chuckled and said, "Oh, Dad cut off the dog's head."  And, for the longest time I thought that her dad had cut off their dog's head!
• Every Adam Sandler, Chris Farley, David Spade, Mike Meyers, Phil Hartman, Julia Sweeney, Melanie Hutsell and Jay Mohr SNL sketch ever made.  Most of them, verbatim.  This goes for all the corny Sandler song lyrics and the farewell they all sang, in character, to Phil Hartman on his last night on the show.  (Favorite line: Michael McKean, "I don't have a character yet, but I was on Laverne and Shirley... ♫")
• My class room number for my first day of fourth grade.  The elementary school I'd attended grades K-3 had closed down and I was very nervous to be starting at a new school.  Class room 6 is burned in my memory because I did not want to get lost that first day.
• That my gym teacher was missing half a finger.
• E=MC squared.  Don't know what to do with this information, but I remember it!
• HONIFClBr.  My tenth grade chemistry teacher promised us we'd always remember the diatomic elements if we turned them into a nonsense word that was pronounced "Honey-Feklurbur".  Did it work?  Seeing that it's twenty-two years after the fact, I guess so!  What is a diatomic element?  Ummm...  It looks like your work here is only half done, Mr. Shalla.
• Janet Jackson has her cha-cha pierced.  I didn't want to know that either, but she had to go and mention it in an article I read in the 90's.  After her Super Bowl appearance, I guess we all know she's pierced elsewhere as well.
• Lots of mean things that were once said to me, but don't bear repeating.
• That the corners of the hallways that were painted orangey-red in high school had the girls' bathrooms.  If you headed to the wrong corners of the school, you would find a boys' bathrooms instead and you would be late for class.
• Daniel Day-Lewis won an Oscar for a movie called My Left Foot.  I had heard of the movie about a man with cerebral palsy that learned to paint with his left foot.  But, every time a presenter that night would name the movie title, I still thought it sounded like a phrase you use when you're trying not to swear.
• A friend in second grade made me sing her phone number over and over again, so I wouldn't forget it.  I still remember it along with the melody that she created for it.  I have no use for this information anymore seeing that I have no idea who would pick up if I dialed the number thirty years after the fact.
• The chorus to the first song I ever wrote, when I was about 8 or 9ish.  "Jack and Jill went up the hill, Humpty Dumpty fell off of the wall, Old King Cole was a merry old soul, but my love ain't no fairy tale at all."  I didn't know much about love at the time.  Just that singing about it could land you on the radio.

Well, I don't know if I've manage to purge anything tonight, but I've certainly made myself good and tired.  Now, my main concern in going to bed and dreaming about headless dogs and tailless squirrels.  Night all!

My Favorite Places: Detroit Zoo

If you haven't been to The Detroit Zoo since your second grade field trip because, back then, it was referred to as "The Smelly Zoo", you're doing yourself a great injustice.

Things have changed in the last couple decades, big time!

The chimpanzees and gorillas now have a huge free-roaming exhibit of their very own. No more cages with bars and one tire on a rope to share.  You can circle the entire exhibit offering several vantage points of your choosing.  In increment weather all simians can be found inside the ape house, which is much larger building than the one from our youth.

The polar bears are no longer housed in those small pitted habitats where you may remember having tossed marshmellows to them thirty years ago.  They have their very own "Arctic Ring of Life" these days.  A wonderful exhibit featuring arctic foxes, seals and polar bears.  The highlight of the Ring exhibit certainly being the Polar Bear tunnel.  I'll warn you, you have to have awfully good timing to catch a polar bear swimming.  There's no set time or weather conditions that prompts them into the water. We've seen them in the Summer, Winter, afternoon, feeding times, non-feeding times. It's all just a matter of luck!  But, if you are able to catch one, I promise it will be one of the most majestic scenes you and your child will ever see!  The tunnel is worth a visit any day, though, because the seals are always swimming full time.  (But, no more feeding marshmellows to the animals.  The zoo has all beasts on strict diets these days!)

The lions have the newest of the improved exhibits.  There's no longer a pit dividing you and these predators.  You can actually stand this close to the Kings of the Savannah:

In the past, a visit to the lions would usually only offer one of the following options: 1.) Watching the lions sleep.  Zzzzzzz... or 2.) Watching a lion pace back and forth, looking bored and wearing a tread in his cement trail. 

Not anymore!  The new opportunity of grass and space has made the lions awfully frisky!

And heated rocks near the glass lure them closer than ever during nap times.

There's a brand new carousel located between the fountain and the main restaurant.

Dinosauria rolls into town most summers, bringing you nose to nose with your favorite extinct creatures.

And there's still a few of the classic exhibits left that will conjure up nostalgia from your younger days.  Giraffes in Egypt anyone?

Peacocks still run wild.

And, who remembers this guy?

I should also stress once again that the zoo is no longer smelly!  It hasn't been for decades!  It's clean and beautifully landscaped now, so stop killing its rep.

It's open year-round and always worth a visit any season.  In the summer the sprinklers and misting stations are running to keep you comfortable:

And, the winters here are great fun too! 

In fact, the Winter time is the best time to see some of the animals who thrive in the colder weather.  If you're a red panda fan, like myself, the winter is usually the one time you will see them romping around on the ground.  In the warmer months they hide up in the tree tops or are off exhibit all together.

Any of the other Asian animals are also very active during this time, such as the snow monkeys and Siberian tigers.  There are plenty of indoor exhibits as well, offering plenty to see including this additional unique feature to your wintertime visits, the giraffe house:

Close enough to marvel over her eyelashes!  The rhinos and lemurs also have indoor exhibits you can visit this time of year.  And, don't forget the reptile, amphibian and butterfly houses. The beautiful Ford Education Center is always worth a peek.  Step inside to warm up and use the newer restroom facilities.  (The Ford Center also has one of the few working drinking fountains during the winter time.) The building also houses a 4-D movie theater, the Wild Adventure ride and art and photography exhibits year round.

If you live within a reasonable drive to Royal Oak, I would also suggest you consider purchasing a zoo membership.  It's not only a great way to support the zoo program, it's also a great investment for family fun!  Annual prices start at $38 for an individual membership.  If you visit three times or more a year, any membership package pays for itself!

So what's left to stop you from visiting now?  Come on by!  You'll probably see me there, because you know I'm a member.  And, don't forget to take a picture by the polar bear fountain before you leave. It's a time honored tradition!

"We don't smell a thing!"

Christmas Shopping: On your mark!

I have been in a continual nervous sweat ever since Halloween because it was then that I'd realized that I hadn't started my Christmas shopping yet! 

Call me paranoid, over-prepared, or just plain crazy, but I usually have the bulk of it done by now.  I'm just a poor secretary, you see, so buying a couple things here, a couple things there, starting in October is the best way for me to avoid using that credit card that I'm so close to having paid off after nearly twenty years of trying.

Last night I jumped in feet first after receiving a 20% off coupon for Kohl's in the mail.  Kohl's is a great store and very conveniently located to where I live.  But, Kohl's is also the king of brainwashing.  If you've ever paid full price for something at Kohl's,  you're a sucker (sorry, was trying to be delicate there!)  Every single item in the store is overpriced by a whopping percentage.  That way they can have amazing sales every single week offering you 40-50% off.  You're not going to pay the $40 on the tag for a pair of pajamas.  But, you might pay $20 when you see the huge "50% off!" sign on the rack above it.  (P.S. those jammies are probably actually worth $10.) 

Most of the clothes and housewares at Kohl's are their own signature brands, so they can play the whole mark-up game (I love many of the Kohl's signature brands, however, so if you can find a good sale + coupon combo or wait it out until the clearance rack, you can still get a decent price.) Brand names is where you can really score big at this store.  If you venture into the toy aisle, you'll see that the toys, books and games are all brand name, so the discounts there are sincere (Albeit smaller.  More like 10-20%.)  The selection is smaller than your average department or store toy, only a couple meager aisles, but they have a diverse selection, so if you see what you need you can usually do pretty well.  I got a toy with a retail price of $39.99 yesterday that was on sale for $23.99.  My coupon brought the price down to $19.19.  It's hard to find a more than 50% discount at an actual toy store, so "Go me!"  (Another cheap place you may have never thought of for toys is Big Lots.  So long as you're not looking for key lighting and snooty ambiance in your shopping experience, Big Lots is worth a gander.)

Where Kohl's shopping rules is where the coupons are involved.  Now, the only way to get on the coupon wagon is to sign up for a Kohl's charge, so only those with self-control read ahead.  The coupons they'll mail you can only be used on Kohl's charge card purchases (ie. You can not use the coupon and then pay with cash or debit.)  The idea on their end being that you'll impulsively shove more into your over-sized cart and then pay the bill off in increments, earning them interest on your purchase as well.  Coupons can range between 15-30% off and involve a lottery like thrill of peeling off a secret sticker to reveal what your random discount will be this time around.  (Upset I didn't get 30% off this season, but relieved it was more than 15%.  They've got me suckered too, I guess...)

Set a budget, put that money aside and pay that bill the moment it arrives in the mail.  Or, you can be like a savvy relative of mine who, immediately after using a coupon, will toss her shopping bags into the car turn right back around, march to the service desk, and pay the bill that same day.  No one's getting any interest charges out of this family!

So, with coupon in hand (or purse) I took Kohl's by storm last night.  Holiday music being piped in from above as my soundtrack, I scored gifts for four and somehow rewarded myself with four gifts for myself as well.  This is a Christmas shopping problem with me.  I always feel such pride in checking names off of my list, that I feel I've earned some sort of trophy prize.  Sure, I did need a couple pairs of pants and sweaters for work.  But, if I peeked into my over-stuffed closet with honest eyes, I'd probably realize that "need" may just be another four-letter word in my vocabulary.  (What I really "needed" was some newer pants and sweaters.)

So, today was Target's turn.  No holiday music at Target, just the out-of-tune symphony of toddlers wailing away in their shopping carts. No coupons at Target either, but their sales are pretty reasonable and their clearance even better! 

I got stumped in the toy aisle after seeing this cushy cuddly Joker doll. (?!)  There were two of them lying in a display box together, like a dual-sized coffin, staring up at the ceiling with that evil-making grin frozen in place.  Blech!  Nightmares anyone?

After I recovered from the Joker-as-a-cuddly-bedmate-for-children shock, I was able to check four more people off of my list and I even put my "reward" pair of black boots back on the shelf, if you can believe it!  (I can't.  Although I already own three pairs of tall black boots, and two pairs or short ones.  These ones were medium-height and clearanced out to only $17.98.  Okay, Kim, you did the right thing, don't dwell...)  I did somehow end up with a new hat though.  But, it was only because it was clearanced out to a mere $2.48.  I didn't need a new hat either, but that's just Taco Bell change, and it's ever so slightly cuter than the dozen I already own, so no lectures!

Reaching the almost half-way point in my shopping before Thanksgiving is thrilling!  And, so long as I can keep my own "needs" and trophies out of the picture, the rest of this shopping season should be a breeze. 

Inner Child 101

I'm beginning to realize why I get along with kids so well.  I loved being a kid and, well, I pretty much still have all the same interests and habits.

Here's a peek at my Inner Child Checklist:

• Children's Vitamins:  I still take one chewable Circus Animal Vitamin each and every morning.  Yeah, I tried the whole woman's multivitamin thingy, but I kept forgetting to take them.  You just swallow those.  There's nothing memorable about that!  I grew up on Flintstones vitamins.  They were the only drug addiction I've been afflicted with in my lifetime.  80's television marketing had me convinced that, if I took my vitamins, I'd become big, strong, fast and pretty much ripped.  I took this concept quite literally and one night I downed about ten Barney Rubbles and then punched my bedroom wall repeatedly, in anticipation for the Popeye strength that was sure to start kicking in soon.  Well, the anchor-tattooed biceps never did emerge, but I came to realize one sure thing.  That kiddie vitamins taste really good!  There's no way I'll forget to take that fruity mini-snack I get to enjoy first thing in the morning. Yum!  (And, this applies to all meds.  Why take nasty grown-up cold syrup when the kiddie grape option tastes so much better?  Read the back of the bottle, there's adult dosages on there as well.  It was meant to be!)
• Why untie shoes?:  I can't be the only one who still ties shoes loose enough so that they can be easily slipped on and off without the need to sit down.  I can probably count on one hand the number of tie-able shoes I own that can't use the slip-on trick.  But, I try not to buy shoes with laces anyway, if I can help it.
• Daydream, frequently:  Much too frequently.  My current fave is still the "Planning for the Publisher's Clearinghouse Win" one.  But, hero fantasies can also be exhilarating.  I remember after 9-11, having the recurring (day)dream of being on a hijacked plane while everyone around me is panicking.  I manage to calm everyone down, lead them in a prayer session and get down to brass tacks.  I trip one terrorist as he walks down the aisle way and slit another one's trachea with a Bic pen.  (All while yelling bad ass dialogue that I haven't quite scripted yet.)  My fellow passengers gag and bind the hijackers with pairs of pantyhose donated from an older woman's carry-on.  Then we storm the cockpit!  After we commandeer the plane, I announce over the P.A., "Are there any passengers on board who know how to fly a plane?  Anybody?"  Nope?  Well, I guess is up to me to figure out how to land this bird.  We restore connectivity with air traffic control and they walk me through a clumsy landing.  All the good guys survive and a round of ground-kissing commences.  U.S.A.!  U.S.A.! 
• Remember to still ask "why?" sometimes:  I don't like doing dumb things.  Especially for no good reason.
• The shopping cart waltz:

Jump to 2:15.  Yes, Anderson, I still do it too.

• Take the log instead of the trail: It's not always the shorter route, but it's usually funner!

• Smush the bread: I've always smushed my bread before I could take a bite out of any sandwich or bunned item.  It not only condenses things, but it also somehow give bread a better taste.  I can't be alone in this either, because now I'm able to purchase pre-smushed bread!

• Pick off the green things: Why ruin a good meal?
• Sometimes animals just are more important: It's easier some days to love the one who always wags its tail and is happy to see you, then to get along with the humans who bicker back.  I'm convinced that's why sometimes a pet's loss is harder to cope with than a human's in many ways.  Human relationships always contain a certain extent of complications.  There's always that harsh word that was once spoken eons ago, forgiven, but never be forgotten.  But, our relationships with animals are often the one true sense of unconditional love we've experienced.  And, that's why sometimes a purr or nuzzle can feel sweeter to the heart than a spoken word.  Kids get this.  I hope I'll always continue to as well.
• Sports are more fun with no rules:  I was always good at sports as a kid, but never enjoyed playing on teams.  I experience more joy when there's a lack of time limits, innings, or scores to keep.  And, sometimes made-up games are the best.  When my brother's family lived with us, we'd never laugh harder than when playing a improv game of Hit My Nephew With a Nerfball.  My brother and I would simply throw Nerf footballs around, trying to bean my nephew (who was around three at the time) while he ran circles around the backyard, cracking up.  My seven-year nephew once made an entire afternoon out of Block the Toy Box.  He stood in the backyard toy box playing goalie while we tried to toss every sort of ball we could find into it.  A ball in the box, we score.  A ball blocked, he did.  He's now a great defensive lineman on his peewee football team!
• Sing, Sing a Song: Don't worry if it's not good enough for anyone else to hear.  It's hard to stifle a song in the heart when it's raging to get out, so why try?  Singing is a sign of a joyful heart.  Kids make up songs about nothing.  I still do too.  Run out of lyrics?  Just sing about whatever it is you're doing, even if it's just laundry.  It's one of the quickest ways to trick yourself into a good mood.
• Sometimes a zerbert is better than a kiss: I heard once that a woman requires somewhere around a dozen touches a day to feel content.  That doesn't mean we need men playing grabsie at us all day.  Many times a five-year-old's zerbert will do just the trick!
• Avoid the grown-up table:  A visit to the kiddie table this holiday season will not only find you much less small talk, but way better silly talk.
• Laugh when something goes wrong instead of screaming about it:  Most things we scream about, really are funny when you stop and think about them.  Lighten up!
• Pigtails:  Any time, any place.
• Go. Out. Side.:  Now!
• And, never pass up a silly photo op:

My Favorite Places: Detroit Institute of Arts Part II

A picture speaks a thousand words.  You know it's true.  Remember this on your next trip to the Detroit Institute of Arts  (or any other art museum you may wind up in) and you can play along with my favorite art-watcher's game: What's Happening Here?

The rules are obvious, so I'll just start out by completely overwhelming you:

I introduce you to "The Court of Death", by Rembrandt Peale.  A huge HUGE painting (left-side pictured above, right-side pictured below.  Click pictures to enlarge, if that helps.)  If a picture speaks a thousand words, than this painting is an epic saga.  At least a 3-hour movie or four-part miniseries.  You see the executioner, right?  You see dead bodies.  Some people are screaming.  Some people are mourning.  Some people look utterly content and its hard to understand why.  Is the man above (to the left of the green dress) self-inflicting?  Or, hanging on to dear life while trying to remove the death weapon from his ribcage?  Why the cherub?  Or is that a baby?  Who's really human and who is not?

Well, this painting is a Level III in my game.  The novice version is much more fun.  So, on a lighter note, here's what I found was "happening here" on my last visit:

The New Scholar, Franics Edmunds

This kid's got my heart.  I feel ya buddy!  The first day of his school career and he's got the right idea.  His dog isn't sure about the teacher and I trust him even less!  The mother, like most grown-ups, has much too much faith in authority figures.  But, the youth and animals, who've yet to lose their innocence, have that undeniable radar of something being amiss.  That teacher, I'll tell ya.  He's got the face and presence of one who keeps the kids after class a little too often and doles out the spankings a little too freely.  I see a window in the corner, kid.  Plan your escape now!

Mrs. Bradford Ripley Alden and her Children, Robert Walter Weir

I love this tricky snapshot of motherhood.  Your eye is first drawn to the children sweetly kissing.  Faking an image of serenity.  Then you look around the room.  Toys a mess. Mother looking weary.  A sword and a chair tangled up in the curtain.  And, anyone who's ever owned a dog recognizes Lassie's posture here.  She's not down for a nap either.  That's the stance of a dog who's been running amok with the children until mother convinced them to settle down for a nap.  (And, they're only down for a nap because they've decided they've run out of steam!)  The dog is not lying there because mother commanded, "Sit! Stay!"  He's taking his cues from the children.  That tail is still swishing back and forth and his legs are ready to pounce back up the second one of those kids gets their second wind.  And, mother...  Poor frazzled mother.  If that's a Bible she's trying to read to them, it looks like she's turned to the mid-New Testament.  What she needs to do is flip back to the "Thou Shalt Not"s!

The Merrymakers, Carolus-Duran

I was scared to look at this too hard at first because I found it simply delightful and I was worried if I concentrated too much I'd see the "true meaning" of the work.  I'd seen enough European art that day to know birds don't always fair well in it.  They're usually a sign of death, or if you look closely, alot of them are just literally dead.  I saw the the overly anxious child (thoughts of Lenny from Of Mice and Men) and then the butter knife on the table and winced.  But, once I cracked one eye back open and noticed the butter knife is placed a safe position, pointing away.  And, the bird is just a pet (and a hilarious one, from the looks of things.)  The nanny knows what she's doing and is probably the best one in town.  And, everyone is just having a marvelous time while the men are at work. (Oh.  And the woman, touching her chest in exaggerated laughter, is trying to get the artist's attention.  Believe me!)

The Cottagers, Joshua Reynolds

There's a little companion guide that goes with this one near the bench that faces it.  It explains that these women are mother (in red, with hair in rags), daughter (feeding chickens) and neighbor (head full of hay.)  It explains that they are of wealth and it doesn't make traditional sense for them to be wearing these clothes or doing these chores. Then it goes on to ask you challenging questions about what's going on.  Yeah, yeah, I'm already playing that game...  The neighbor doesn't even belong there.  She's not only the town busy-body, but also the town Knicker-Dropper (if you catch my drift...)  She heard the handsome male portrait artist was going to be next door and decide to run over and have her dress fall half off.  She knows what they say about men who spend all day painting ladies while their husbands are away... Well, nobody really says anything about him yet, but she's ready and willing to start that rumor.  Mother is the neighbor's gossip buddy.  She would have probably showed up that day anyhow.  The empty spinning wheel suggests that the pamphlet is probably correct in assuming these aren't these ladies' regular chores.  Mother obviously doesn't even know how to work a spinning wheel, but she has figured out how to feign exhaustion while sitting next to one.  Neighbor wouldn't be hauling straw in that dress because all those loose little straw bits are now falling down into her cleavage.  Daughter is probably sincere in her chicken feeding though.  Someone else gets paid to officially do it, but she gets bored and lonely during the women's gossip sessions and has made friends with the chickens on her own time.  The biggest clue that this scene is staged is, like always, look to the dog.  If the women were really just toiling away about their everyday chores, the dog wouldn't be just sitting there with playful joy on his face.  It'd be routine, he'd be bored with it.  He'd be either rounding up the chickens, running around, off in the sheep pasture, or sleeping under a shade tree.  Every signal on his face signifies that there is laughter going on.  "Let's play like we're working, when my husband sees this he won't mind you coming over here everyday.  He'll think we actually doing something while he's away at work!"  Hee hee hee hee hee.  Oh yeah, and they're also speaking in fake Cockney accents while the actual maid with the actual Cockney accent is in the barn, within earshot, scraping up cow poop.  (Ten bucks says the artist worked this scam all over town.  He'll paint the rich women as if they're working, get them in good with their husbands, and in return they invite over their naughty neighbors whose dresses are promised to fall off by the end of the session.)

Burgomeister With Key, Ivan Albright

Burgermeister Meisterburger.  That toy-hating bully from Santa Claus is Coming to Town is my only experience with burgomeisters.  I thought this guy was a jail keeper, because of the key, but now I've learned that the title Burgomeister means "Master of the Town" or "Master of the Fortress".  Or, something like, what we call these days, a mayor.  Key to the city, then?  I didn't extend his story any further because I became too distracted by the fact that he needs some serious eye drops in his left eye. 

And, lastly, I bring you a little portrait named Mrs. William Allen, by John Hesselius:

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 

I can't look at this one without that visceral reaction.  How much this painting is worth would probably astound me then repulse me, so please nobody do the research... I don't want to know!  This one is so awkward to me, because the only part of the painting that looks three-dimensional at all is the head.  Therefore, is has that awkward Face-in-a-Hole feel to it, that's utterly distracting and hilarious at the same time.   You know what a Face-in-a-Hole is, right?   One of these:

When I saw this in person for the first time, I was hoping my amusement didn't make me a bad person. So, I called my mom from around the corner to take a peek and therefore gauge the inappropriateness of my own response.  She said, "What?" and then I motioned to her "what", she followed up with a noise something like a suprised, "Ack!" and then a smirky smile.  Phew.  It's not just me!  We'd tried to stifle our laughter from the security guard roaming nearby as it took me a little while to tear myself away.

Conclusion: Either a.) "Mrs." Allen was one of history's very first drag queens, b.) Mrs. Allen was indeed a woman, and I'm a very despicable person for implying otherwise, c.) John Hesselius was just a horrible portrait artist and the DIA acquired this work only because Mr. Allen came home, saw what he had wasted his money on, apologized to his wife, and then threw it the window or d.) This actually is a  Face-in-a-Hole and, since cameras weren't invented yet, John Hesselius was forced to do his own self portrait of his own face in said hole over many long nights and by way of mirror and candlelight.

Hmmm... a multiple choice story.  This one is complicated.  I think we've found the, unplayed until now, Level IV of my game!

Good luck with it.  You are now ready to go pro!