Happy New Year's Eve!

When did New Year's Eve become any other night? 


For me, I guess it was the first year I had a kid. Sleep was more coveted than a glass of champagne and a kiss.


Sleep is no longer an issue but still I have no real plans for this evening. Which got me thinking about some of my more memorable New Year's Eves. Like the time Ronnie Jean and I were at a fabulous house in Corpus Christi (neither of us can remember the year but it was sometime in the mid-80s so you know we were styling). And right at the stroke of midnight, the living room floor caved in. We were unscathed and left before the police arrived.


So. What's your stand-out December 31st?


Cheers! And a happy 2011!
Corky

Reality TV

I got so tired of reality television that I had to change channels. 


No more 'Bachelor' or the other one. No more 'Real Housewives' of anywhere. No more Evening News.


Now I rarely leave the Food Network. Every time it's on, there are people cooking. Complete meals. In thirty minutes. It's about the craziest thing I've ever seen. Real entertainment.


Bon Appetite,
Corky

The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie

I bought myself The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie for Christmas. 


Has anyone read it?


I chose it mostly for the cover and a recommendation by one of the associates at Hastings. It's got some impressive reviews like the one I pasted below and has won four of mystery's top prizes including the Agatha (Malice Domestic) and the Debut Dagger Award (Crime Writers' Association). And it's the first in a series of three.


Amazon Best of the Month, April 2009: It's the beginning of a lazy summer in 1950 at the sleepy English village of Bishop's Lacey. Up at the great house of Buckshaw, aspiring chemist Flavia de Luce passes the time tinkering in the laboratory she's inherited from her deceased mother and an eccentric great uncle. When Flavia discovers a murdered stranger in the cucumber patch outside her bedroom window early one morning, she decides to leave aside her flasks and Bunsen burners to solve the crime herself, much to the chagrin of the local authorities. But who can blame her? What else does an eleven-year-old science prodigy have to do when left to her own devices? With her widowed father and two older sisters far too preoccupied with their own pursuits and passions—stamp collecting, adventure novels, and boys respectively—Flavia takes off on her trusty bicycle Gladys to catch a murderer. In Alan Bradley's critically acclaimed debut mystery, The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie, adult readers will be totally charmed by this fearless, funny, and unflappable kid sleuth. But don't be fooled: this carefully plotted detective novel (the first in a new series) features plenty of unexpected twists and turns and loads of tasty period detail. As the pages fly by, you'll be rooting for this curious combination of Harriet the Spy and Sherlock Holmes. Go ahead, take a bite. --Lauren Nemroff


I'm thinking it sounds like a fun read.


If you'd like to join me in reading it, the Amazon link above will save you $5.00 over what I paid at Hastings. Or you can borrow it from me in about a week. 


Sweetness,
Corky

Cure for CRS

Is this brilliant or what?


Look at the tag line ~ The perfect solution for your shoddy short-term memory. All you have to do is transfer the temporary tattoo onto your palm then fill it in with your to-do list. Brilliant. I can't believe no one has thought of this before.


I found this indispensable product while Christmas shopping for my son at Hastings. It's right between the fake moustaches and the novelty bandages (which were all vandalized).


Hoping Santa reads this post,
Corky


For more information on CRS, click here.

CRS

I've known for a while now that something is wrong with me. 


Not so wrong, mind you, that I've made a doctor's appointment. Mostly because I keep forgetting to call. 


I considered internet-assisted self diagnosis to unravel my symptoms but based on past experience I figured I'd only compound my issues. Thankfully my brother was able to help. He says I have CRS (Can't Remember Shit) and that I need to start writing things down.


Where did I put my pen?
Corky

He Works Hard for the Money

Usually I don't give panhandlers money. Today, I made an exception while in San Antonio. 


You may be thinking the Christmas spirit overcame me but you'd be wrong.


A guy, who looked a lot like the brother in 'The Hangover', was walking toward me carrying a cardboard sign that said "Out of Work Chip 'n' Dale Dancer" and he was shakin' his bad thang. 


I had to financially reward this man for making me laugh so hard that I choked on my Dr Pepper. His intentional humor (the dancing) and the unintentional (spelling Chip 'n' Dale like the chipmunks instead of the strippers).


No pole necessary,
Corky

Iron Karma

Remember when I was chuckling about Lori's iron conundrum? How she'd plug in her iron to heat up, go do something else then cuss when she came back after the self-timer on the iron had already turned it off?


I thought that was so funny.


Well. An occasion finally arrived that I had to iron something. The dryer thing didn't work. Neither did the humidity of the shower. Nor putting the clothing between my mattress and springs. So I plugged the iron in. Then I tripped over the cord. The damn thing crashed to the ground. I did try to iron with the hot part dangling from the handle. It worked but not very well.


I called my mom to complain. I knew she'd be sympathetic because, like Lori, she irons t-shirts. And she's the one who bought me the iron when I went away to college. 


She arrived, new iron in hand, within the hour. 


Guess what? I plugged it in to heat, went to brush my teeth and when I came back it had turned itself off.


Hating Karma,
Corky

Stop and Render Aid

How embarrassing is this?


As I was driving along Holdsworth Extension, I was shocked to see a gray haired man laying face down on the sidewalk. I thought it might be Grizzly Adams so I pulled over immediately and jumped from the car (after I put it in park).


I ran to him, cell phone in hand. Breathlessly, I knelt down beside him, reached to check his pulse and said, "I'm calling 9-1-1!" 


Long story short. He was doing push-ups and I made him lose count.


And how can I help you today?
Corky

Christmas Cards

I have a friend who still sends Christmas Cards to everyone she's ever met. (She holds the same high standard for friending people on Facebook.) Her hundreds of cards are in the mail the day after Thanksgiving. 


It's become a holiday tradition. I open her card, curse her for being so on top of things and tape the red & green paper to my doorway where all cards will be displayed until the tape lets go and they respond so predictably to gravity. But I do appreciate that she provides this service. Her greeting always triggers some primitive region in my brain that it's time to address cards to the first 10 people (or 12, depending on the box of cards) who...


1. send me a card


2. are my mom


May paper cuts be few and greetings sincere,
Corky

Grizzly Adams Revisited

Here's an interesting FYI.


Nine people googled Grizzly Adams yesterday and got my blog. But what's even more curious to me is they weren't the same person. Nine people from three different continents. Bet they weren't expecting this.


I only tell you this so you'll understand why I'll be mentioning GRIZZLY ADAMS in random places in my upcoming posts : )



I <3 Mountain Men,
Corky

Who Won?

And the winner of the drawing is...


Ronnie Jean!


She had the following to say when I texted her with the exciting news, "yepps ... congrats to me!"


I'm not sure if yepps is good or bad but she used an exclamation point instead of a question mark so I'm thinking she's happy.


Thanks to everyone for playing.


: )
Corky

Crank It!

Admit it. There's some songs you have to turn your radio up full blast to listen to. For me, it's 70s/80s rock but the song must have at least one guitar &/or drum solo. For my son, it's that current rap/hip hop/%^&$ stinking music. 


You can make fun of me for sounding like every parent before me but I have some made-up science to back my superior position.


Lyrics. 


Up until now, lyrics have taken a "man, are you hot!" approach. The singer is romancing the listener (usually). I like that. Most songs nowadays yell "man, I'm hot!" Really?


I'm going to blame this shift on the ill-advised movement in the 90s when every kid got a trophy. Even the kids on the losing team. Remember that? Parents were saying "You can be anything!" without the bit about "if you work hard enough!" 


I want better for my kid.


So I will continue to take advantage of what parenting books calls 'teaching moments'. I will turn Dylan's tunes down for one-sided conversations about not giving a rat's ass how good some girl thinks she looks in a mini-skirt and how I really don't care if some man with a high voice thinks he's the greatest sex machine ever. Even as my son calls these teaching moments 'nagging'. It's for the global good.


Failure is its own reward,
Corky

2 More Days

Hey! I almost forgot, I've got a drawing coming up.


Less than 2 days are left to round up your friends to join the followers of this blog so their name will be entered in my drawing for this FaBuLouS WiNe SLiNg!


I haven't figured the odds lately but I know for sure, your chances of winning are better if you enter.


Cheers,
Corky

Starbucks Never Again

The first time I visited a Starbucks I ordered a Dr Pepper.


Turns out, that's the only drink in the world they do not sell (this, of course, is my biased and uneducated observation). I ended up ordering a hot chocolate and got to the intersection before I realized they gave me a coffee, straight up. As I spewed black coffee on my steering wheel, I vowed Starbucks was dead to me. That I would never again bother them with my business.


Well. You know how never goes. 


My little friend who is in the hospital wanted a Double Chocolaty Chip Frappuccino. Can't say no to a request from my little friend. Those caffeinated retailers put the drive thru window so high that there was only a three inch overlap between the top of my Prius window and their highfalutin counter. I ended up with whipped cream down my arm.


Never again (until she wants another : ),
Corky

Another Texting Update

Today I was engaged in a texting conversation with my friend Amy.


I misspelled atrocious atrociously and tried to backspace to correct it. The 'back' is close to the 'send' on my phone so you know I sent it. I followed up with a second note blaming the mistake on my dumb phone.


I'm glad the note went to Amy instead of Lola. The latter would not have had a problem pointing out my typo and calling me the dumb ass. I like Amy : )


TTFN,
Corky