To Do List

Everyone keeps asking me my plans for after my workplace closes this week.  I'm pretty sure, they mean what are my plans for employment.  I have a to do list.  It just doesn't have much to do with a 401K plan:

1. Get back to blogging more often.
2. Go see at least 1/3 of the the Best Picture Oscar nominees, before the ceremony for once.
3. Clean my desk.
4. Clean my room.
5. Clean my linen closet.
6. Catch up on sleep.
7. Read a pile of books.
8. Attempt to relearn how to use a sewing machine.
9. Attempt to make a quilt. (I was inspired by a Susana Allen Hunter exhibit at the Henry Ford Museum six years ago and never found the time to sit down and get to it.  Love her free-form, pattern-free style!  Haven't forgotten it after all these years.)
10. Attempt to make a Pioneer Woman-inspired owl pillow.
11. Look into opening an Etsy store (if I can manage to pull off goals 8-10. But, no pressure if I can't.)
12. Get back into painting/drawing.
13. Finish that darn Christmas project.
14. Take some new pictures.
15. Visit a museum or two.
16. Get back to the eye doctors and finally get contacts back in my eyeballs.
17. Exercise.  For real this time!
18. Grow out my bangs a half-inch.  (You should see them.  I trimmed them wet this time and they're hideous!)
19. Make a new recipe.
20. Be inspired enough to add to this list.

Don't worry.  Somewhere in the 20's will also be "figure out life" and "get a new job".  I'm still planning on being a contributing member of society.  I just need a fresh head first!

When I Grow Up

I recently found my copy of Dr. Seuss's My Book About Me in the family basement.  My Book About Me was a popular Seuss-illustrated book, that most of us kids in the 1980's owned, in which you filled in the blanks about your life. 

It asked you such questions as how many doors and beds are in your house, how many buttons you own and what sort of noises you are capable of making (complete with checklist containing the options of "rooster", "dog", "cat", etc.  I checked off all of the options and added in "person", "robot", "cow", "duck", "horse" and "weirdo".)

There's a page titled "I Like to Write Stories: Here is one I wrote" accompanied by two lined pages for the child to complete their story.  On the first page I wrote, "MY Book about ME.   My book a bout me.  I ♥ Ricky Schroeder." On the second page I drew a self-portrait in which I'm wearing an orange shirt with the word "Cat" on it, blue jeans and brown shoes.

There are pages to trace your hand and foot on.  A page for favorite foods ("Peanut butter, chicken mcnuggets - only McDonald's, nachos, pizza, popcorn, etc."  All still dietary staples.)  A page devoted to drawing your hair, on which I inexplicably did this to myself:

 (No I didn't have orange hair as a child.  What I apparently did have was a lack of mousy brown crayons.)

There's a page looking into how you handle your anger.  It's titled "Sometimes I Get Mad at Some People" and provides a yes/no checklist.  I checked "yes" to sometimes getting angry and moved on to the section that's a psychoanalyst's dream.  The further options given are "I kicked someone", "I pushed someone", "I hit someone" and "I yanked hair".  I checked "yes" to all of the above, including a "yes" next to the box which states "I'm sorry I did it." (And, yes, my veins do contain Irish blood.)

Then toward the end of the book, is the "When I Grow Up, I Want to Be ________ " section, filled with two pages of helpful suggestions, in case you needed ideas.  I filled in the blank with the word "nothing".

Work was never an appealing concept to me.  I re-completed this book several times over my elementary school years, and eventually came to circle the options "T.V. star", "Frogman", "Writer", "Mother", "Artist", "Dog Trainer", "Millionaire", "Singer", "Cartoonist" and "Yak Trainer".   (I also scribbled out the options "Nun", "Burglar" and "Rabbi" with very deep no. 2 pencil markings.)

Thirty years later, and I still have no answer to that question.  In a week's time I will be joining the ranks of Michigan's unemployed as a result of the company I work for's need to close two of its smaller offices.  I will have seventeen severance-paid weeks to figure out this answer, or to at least find the nerve to reenlist in another soul-snatching job that simply pays the bills (as has been the pattern set in the twenty years since I've graduated high school.)

It's always interesting to look back at the goals you had as a child during these fork-in-the-road moments in life.  The hilarious choice of doing "nothing", certainly still seems appealing, though won't exactly make ends meet.  (Although my ever-ready hopes of the Publisher's Clearinghouse win does seem to fall both under the childhood wish of doing nothing and becoming a millionaire pursuit.  So, let's call that Plan B for now.)

T.V. star and singer should now be the choices scribbled out with deep no. 2 markings.  I have since come to terms with the fact that the good Lord graced me with the singing voice of someone who is simutaneously blowing a train whistle while trying to shoot peas out of their nose.

I'm not sure what the duties of a Frogman or Yak Trainer involve, and am no longer curious, so it's probably safe to scratch those options off of the list as well.  I never had children of my own, which places Mother out of the running.  Allergies that have developed over the years eliminates Dog Trainer. (Although, I'm pretty sure I never wanted to train the dogs, so much as just play with them and scratch behind their ears.)

Which leaves us with Artist, Writer and Cartoonist.  All still hobbies of mine.  Although, I haven't practiced drawing in close to a decade and I remain completely clueless on how to make a living at any of these things.  I'm also one of those fools that likes to keep hobbies as hobbies, as not to tarnish my love for them with deadlines and such.  So, I guess what this all means is that you'll probably hear of me back in another office setting some time within the coming months.

A seventeen-week deadline to figuring life out?  Yuck.  I think I'll try to have a little fun first and leave Dr. Suess with a big ol' "Thanks for nothing!"  Unless, of course, I come across an ad for a hot-tempered, robot-noise-making, peanut butter-eating frogman.  Then I'll know for sure that destiny is calling!

Book Review: Prairie Tale, by Melissa Gilbert

I came across Prairie Tale while I was in the middle of reading The Wilder Life, by Wendy McClure. McClure's book left me so indifferent that I was uninspired to write a review on it, but in its pages it had mention that Half-Pint herself had published a memoir.

I was always a fan of the Little House television series. My family also owned the country blue box-set of paperbacks, although I never cracked one open other than to look at the illustrations. My reading likes, at that age, fell more into Beverly Cleary, Judy Blume, Shel Silverstein territory. If I had access to prairie life via an hour in front of the tube, God bless you Michael Landon, that's how I was going to take it!

Laura was always my favorite character in the series (becoming slightly over-shadowed once her handsome adopted brother was introduced into the show.) I also being the outdoorsy middle-child tomboy in the family, it was easy to relate. So I dove right into this easy read, even as it spun so insanely far from innocent prairie territory.

Prairie Tale certainly covers Melissa Gilbert's chaste and idyllic years growing up on the Little House set. Her home life was a stark contrast to that of the Ingalls, but she still grew up very privileged and loved. The discomfort in your stomach will come at the point were Melissa starts to party a bit, have teenage sex and dabble with cocaine. You'll do the math in your head and realize that this turn of events comes about while Melissa is still playing Laura, albeit grown Laura who becomes married to Almanzo and a mother... But, nonetheless, Laura Ingalls doing cocaine?!

Then the book got really good.

 

I always knew Melissa Gilbert had dated Rob Lowe at some point in the eighties. I just didn't realize how many years that relationship strung on for and how entrenched in the Brat Pack clique Laura Ingalls, eh... Melissa Gilbert actually was. She partied with the Estevez-Sheens (dad, Martin, included), dated Tom Cruise, Scott Baio, Billy Idol (this is not a joke!) and while Rob Lowe was cheating on her with a number of young blonde starlets, she cheated on him with his own buddy John Cusack!

At this point, you start to finally lose the Prairie image, forget about "Laura" and start to get wrapped up in Melissa Gilbert's story. Which is a good and triumphant one. She winds through heartbreak, addiction, motherhood, sobriety, breaks in sobriety, that whole SAG presidency and all of the drama that came with it. She does dish, but somehow in a way that doesn't seem dishy. Just like someone telling her story and deciding to be completely honest about it.

And, she's kinda funny. Who knew!

In the final Acknowledgments section she leaves a list of possible book titles that her friends (including the likes of Tom Hanks) had suggested to her, including:

• Half Pint Goes to Hollywood
• Lights, Cameras, Blackouts
• From Half Pint to Sag-ging Adult
• Nellie's Not a B****, Mary Is

and my personal favorite

• I Never Tripped on That Hill (But My Little Sister Did, Bwaaaaahhh)

It's a good tale.

The Christmas Gift

My siblings and I stopped swapping Christmas gifts a few years ago so we could focus on spoiling each other's children instead.  Since we've made that decision (and since I have no children of my own, ie. much more free time then the rest), my tradition has been to make something for my two sisters and brother.  This usually ends up being some sort of compilation of the pictures and/or home videos I'd taken of their kids throughout the past year.  (I'm not a knitter or at all into potpourri.)  However, this year's crop of photography came up short on some kids with an excess of others, and barely any home videos to boot.

Then, while skimming through some of my mom's old photo albums featuring us as kids, I came upon the "brilliant" idea of scanning our old family photos, restoring them as best I could and burning each sibling a DVD so we could all have access to the family albums.

I'm still convinced this was a brilliant idea, but seeing that it's now January 14th and I'm not done yet... it may have been an overly ambitious one.

Here's some things I've learned about photo restoration.  (P.S. I'm not working with any fancy-schmancy Photoshop or professional computer program.  Just the basic editing tools that came with my standard Windows Vista package.)

1.)  Black and white matte photos from the 1940's-60's are a dream to work with!  They scan great and crisp up real nicely with a little contrast and sharpening help.

2.)  1960's-70's color matte prints spruce up great too!  Alot of these seemed to scan with a purplish tint though, so tint and color adjustment can be necessary.  Faded prints can be brought back to vibrancy with contrast and saturation adjustments, but sometimes this can lead to a Warhol-esque effect.  (I kinda like that though...)

3.)  Once the film world turned to glossy prints, aged photos got a lot trickier to deal with.  I'm finding glossy prints from the late 70's and entire 80's to be a bit harder to fix the color on.

This is with full green tint!  You should have seen the "before"!

 4.)  Some faded prints are impossible to work with.  No amount of contrast, sharpening or color work seems to fix the pea soup wash that doesn't want to leave.  With these, I'm just turning down the saturation (to lessen the pea soup effect) and sticking with the faded look.

5.)  80's film sharpens nice, but once you've sharpened facial features with happy results, you'll see a thousand scratches that have accumulated over the years and every trace of Scotch tape that your mom used in making the album.  This is when I discovered Windows Live Photo Gallery has a "retouch" editing tool (and there hasn't been an honest zitless, crow's feetless picture of me published to Facebook since this discovery was made.)

Scotch tape and dark curtains that show every scratch. My mortal enemies!

Wood grain furniture with plaid cushions.  A retouching tool's nightmare!

1985, the year of the unicorn.  AND, dark denim that shows every scratch!

This one restored nicely, but was simply too cute not to share.

And, that's where my progress has left off.  In the middle of the 80's with a scratch-removal induced migraine.  Three-and-a-half albums down, half of one to go!

Well, I guess I could use this three-day weekend to get back to work on the project instead of just blogging about it.  Then maybe my siblings will get to see the finished product by the time the Easter Bunny comes around.

If you have a scanner (mine's just an el cheapo from Target) and any basic photo editing tools, retouching your old photos is not out of reach.  If you're not sure what your basic computer system has to offer, open one of your recent digital pictures and click "edit" to see what options it gives you.  "Sharpening" turned out to be my biggest savior, but I know some older versions of Windows only have the basic Contrast/Saturation/Tint, etc. package.  Wonders can still be done with these basic tools!  All you need is a little free time to experiment and a bucket-load of patience.

Once your old photos are downloaded to your computer you can share them with the world!  Or, just your family, or hog them to yourself... it's up to you.  The kids love it when I burn an album to DVD so they can watch themselves on tv.  Having your pictures digitized opens the door to emailing them, uploading them to your favorite sites, or simply restoring them so you can print off new copies for framing or scrapbooking.

Alot has changed in the picture-taking world since we were young.  But, to me, photos of any kind are still the greatest family heirlooms.

Mob Wives

Ba-da-bing! Mob Wives has finally returned to VH1 for its second season. Too classy for this stuff? Fugetaboudit!

Okay, I've run out of New Yawk slang, it's safe to keep reading now.

There's a certain fascination my generation has with mob tales. Maybe it's not just my generation, but modern America altogether. We've all seen The Godfather, Goodfellas, Casino... Some Like it Hot, even. Mafia entertainment has even been watered down enough to create it's own comedy genre (The Whole Nine Yards, Analyze This, Mickey Blue Eyes, for goodness sakes, starring Hugh Grant. Talk about watering down the genre!) 

 

 

Well, VH1 has taken Mafia tales to a whole 'nother level... Reality.

The movie world would have us believe the whole crime world is a real hush-hush matter. You'd never guess it watching these ladies in action. We've got:

• Renee - daughter of Bonnano family honcho. Father, incarcerated.   Ex-husband, on-and-off incarcerated.   Ex-husband, Junior, actually appears on the show. With an actual slice wound scarring his face from eyebrow to cheekbone. Talk about "real"!
• Karen - daughter of the infamous Sammy "The Bull" of the Gambino crime family.   Father, incarcerated. Many ex-loves, incarcerated from time to time.
• Drita - (Pronounced "Dree-ter" when using a proper Staten Island accent.)   Husband, bank robber, incarcerated.
• Carla - Husband, incarcerated during first season, but released by the season's end.   It's also alluded that Carla also grew up in "the life".
• Ramona - New addition to season two.  "Lefty Guns" granddaughter and the worst name-dropper of the lot. (She'll be sure you know she's related to that Lefty Guns, of Donnie Brasco notoriety.)

Last season's drama was that Karen was writing a tell-all book on growing up a mafia princess and how terrible that lifestyle is.   I don't know if the book deal fell through, or if she's just doing a terrible job of marketing it, because season one ended with her in a knock-down drag-out kitty cat fight with some stew of the other girls (it's hard to remember who's fighting who in these matches. It always starts with two, but ends up with everyone in a pile of broken heels, fingernails and ripped out hair extensions.)  And, this season opened with a brawl so epic, it had to be broken up into two episodes!

For reformed princesses, there's a heck of alot of "Do you know who I am?!", "I'll kill youze!" and "You know my blood! You KNOW my BLOOD!" being tossed around.   (That last one's a threat of making sure the fightees remember her blood line, not blood type.)   They all brag about having put each other "in the hospital" in the gossipy recap sessions, but the only Wife we've actually ever seen in the hospital was Renee after a botched body lift.   Maybe "hospital" is just street slang for the salon where they get their torn weaves sewn back into their tracks at.

Crazy?   Yes.   Dangerous?   Probably.   Entertaining?   Hellah-yeah!

What the incarcerated family members think of this display, we can only imagine.   I can't guess that Drita's husband is proud of her constant bragging and laughter over the fact that she's married to a bank robber.   "ALLEGED bank robber!" I can practically hear him screaming at the prison rec room tv set.   "ALLEGED... you idiot, I'm up for parole in six months!"   All of the mob daughters have been shown dropping their daddy's names all over town in order to scare their way into better tables at restaurants, proper respect on sidewalks and Renee even used this tactic to get her dance on with a squeamish bar-mate last season.   Respect, they say.   Mmm-hmm, it's scare tactic.

Whatever.   The veil has been lifted.   Be you, Mob Wives!

(And, if any of youze has somehow found your way to my blog-site... remember, I'm a fan of the show!   I, just said, "Be you!", didn't I?   Much fear... er, I mean "respect"!)

Mob Wives airs on VH1, Sunday nights.

Resolution

Now that I've made my new year's resolution, I'm finding it harder and harder to blog and update Facebook.  I resolve the same thing almost every year; to be nicer, less judgmental, to block out gossip and to try to say something positive when a conversation turns negative.

This year's difference is that I made this resolution in December, back when I was still lying sick in bed feeling as if death became me, and I found myself in a week-long bartering session with God.  "Why am I not getting better?",  "No one else's illness is lasting this long?",  "Are you trying to teach me something?",  "What did I do?",  "I will be faithful like Job, but do you realize I feel like I'm dying?", "Alright, if you heal me I promise I'll really try to be a nicer person."  And, then I started to heal.

Yeah, so this trade was intended to impact only my personal sphere of human beings... But then, by default, I found that each time a celebrity would go and do something dumb/weird/gross/off-the-wall, at the point that my snark usually kicks in, I'd run to update my FB status and find myself not being able to hit the "Enter" key.  I've literally gotten as far as typing out a hilarious comment (that was sure to get at least ten likes and five LOLs) and then found myself at the mercy of an immediate spiritual twinge that took control of my arm and made be hit the backspace key.  Delete.  Delete.  Delete.

Oh boy.  Celebrities are people too?  I'm screwed.  I even willingly let my People subscription run out!  I even skipped The Soup AND E's Fashion Police this week!  I even felt sorry, when flipping past one of those Kardashian shows, for Kim and her romantic codependency condition!

I guess my resolution has just taken on new life this year, when elevated from just a good thought to an actual promise.

There are a few other things I've learned in the last year that I like to try to carry in to the new one:

• Stress is unavoidable, only the way you choose to handle it is in your control.
• It's okay to watch only comedies if that's all you're in the mood for.  There's no need to force yourself to sit through any form of entertainment that scares you, depresses you, grosses you out, makes you feel weird inside, makes you cry when you're not in the mood for tears, or anything else that seems like a waste of your time or that just isn't your cup of tea.  No matter how many awards it may win one day or how many friendly recommendations you've been given.  This goes for music, books and tv too.  Sorry, American Horror Story!  No offense, Girl with the Dragon Tattoo!
• Fresh air is like nature's vitamin supplement.  Be sure to inhale a recommended amount daily.
• Too many months of glasses wear has officially killed my vanity.  I don't even do my hair every day!  (Yes, I comb my hair everyday.  I just throw it in a ponytail much more often.)  Makeup, also, has become strictly optional.  Not sure if this is a good or bad thing yet.
• I have finally reached the point where I can honestly say, "Okay, I really do own enough clothes."
• I tried some new foods and didn't like them.  The curiosity is over and I never have to eat them again.  At least I tried!
• Go to the doctors while you still have insurance.

I thought the biggest challenge of 2012 was going to be wading through that puddle of job stress.  I'm now beginning to think it might actually be finding ways to make you guys LOL, without compromising my resolution.

Cheers to my trying!  Hang in there with me!