What was in the box?

A really purty gee-tar. I really really really like it. I can't play it worth a lick, but we'll see about that one. I'm left-handed, but I want to learn to do SOMETHING right-handed, so I'm doing the old-fashioned righty. I had no idea, though. He randomly heard me say one time that I wanted to learn more about it, and he heard me say that I at the least knew how to read music and played the violin when I was really little. For the record, I have also played the flute, the piano, and the clarinet as well, so we'll see if I can get anything beyond an advanced beginner level on my fifth instrument.

As for what I got him, I had to wait a while before I could post this, of course. I painted'ed him a little pitcha. Here you go.

I was really worried that he wouldn't like it (I have had a few bad experiences giving paintings as gifts, so I really don't do it often) as I was worried that the colors might be a bit girly, but he said he loved it. Since for some odd reason the elephant looks a little like Colonel Mustard, we decided to call it General Mustard. Also because he's yellow, so there you go. As for why an elephant...well, he's ended up sort of collecting them over the years, probably started from having a stuffed elephant as a kid. Not exactly a huge collection, but when he went to Thailand he picked up an elephant figurine, and I seem to notice the repeating of it every now and then in his stuff.

Cue the gangsta rap and let me have at it...

I will post about my progress of my weekend chores in a while. I'm leaving in a minute to pick my boyfriend up at the airport, but man, that about describes my day. What the F, PC Load Letter?!?

What's in the box?

This came to my house the other day while I was at work. I called the Green Giant and asked him if anything should be arriving with my name on it and he said yes, that was his present to me. Good thing I asked, because I SO would have torn that thing open had it been from anyone else. I've been going bonkers wondering what it is, but I'm committed to the surprise, so I'm not even turning it around. I'm not even allowed to look at the return address (which is why it's in my cousin's bedroom, facing away)...and it's completely lost on me what it could be. He had told me that he was having a hard time figuring out what to get me, but my cousin figured out what it was through the return address and said I'm going to love it and that I won't in a million years guess what it is. For the record, I could probably fit in this box. I'll take a picture to prove it once I get the box open.

He gets here in about 70 1/2 hours, so I'm going to be wondering in the meantime. No, it's not heavy enough to contain a transmission. I did tell him NOT to go all out for me because I would feel really bad about my gift to him, which wouldn't compare to anything huge. And then me feeling bad would make me cranky, and he does not want a cranky Mollypants.

I mentioned this in my other post, but I may be a bit out of commission come New Years Day. He and I are going to a wedding in Fredericksburg, Virginia (outside DC) and are driving up via (reliable) rental car and stopping to go skiing in Wintergreen, Virginia. Should be fun, I learned to ski there when I was like 6 years old and haven't been in a number of years. Since he also has a few unused AirTran credits, he's going to come see me again in February, and then in March, we're going to....TEXAS. Yep, I finally get to go. We're going to fly into Houston and then go stay with some friends of his in Austin and check out South by Southwest. SXSW, for those of you who don't know, is a really cool independent film and music festival that Austin puts on that I'm absolutely super-pumped to go see. While badges to go to the festivals are insanely expensive, we did find out that you can go pick and choose which shows to go see for $30 or less each at the door. Much more my speed - I think I'm too old to go see 50 bands a day for a week like in the old days of Music Midtown and Lollapalooza. My old roommate went to Bonarroo or whatever that thing is out in the sticks of Tennessee last year and all I could think was that I was glad I wasn't going. Don't get me wrong, from her pictures she looked like she had a blast, but I'd have been that cranky, sunburned, sweaty and wanting-a-shower girl who would have been Debbie Downer. Thankfully, the green giant shares my affinity for the pay-as-we-go plan and we can see other parts of the city while we're at it.

So, you ask, why all the planning? Well, as I said, he had some free vouchers that he had to book by Christmas Eve, but we're also planning it because...as some of you know...he got recalled to the Marines to get deployed. He finishes up work in March, has all of April off, and then has to report to Camp LeJeune, North Carolina in May. I know, my luck, right? And didn't I swear off men who could possibly get deployed? Yeah, best laid plans...but seriously, he's not exactly the military type, despite being a pretty well-decorated officer. He's probably the most laid-back military guy I've ever met. And there's a few positive points here...

1. He trains for 5 months in North Carolina, which is closer than he is now. We can easily see each other on weekends, we just won't have that lovely ability to both work from my house when he comes to see me.
2. He's going to live at the beach this summer! Yay!
3. Since he's a logistics officer (that's okay to publish here from what I understand, but tell me if it's not!), he's likely to get a desk job in Iraq...at the very least, the military values him for his mind, first and foremost, and they want him doing the smartkid stuff. Then again, his mom said that the last time he said that, he was in the battle of Fallujah. But if you saw him, you wouldn't want to screw with him either, so he's good in that too. The man is the tallest guy I've ever dated...and y'all know I like 'em TALL.
4. He can only get recalled involuntarily this once. After that, he's done. Don't get me wrong, if he wants to stay in, I'll support him (hey, his friends in the Marines are currently moving to Hawaii, can't say I'd turn that one down), but he seems to be glad to be done after this.
5. His actual deployment tour is only 7 months. Anyone who's been through the Army tours know that those things last upwards of EIGHTEEN MONTHS. Ugh. Seven is a breeze, comparatively speaking.
6. Speaking of...yeah, I've been through it before - which is a good thing. And just to clear it up... all the bad things I could point out the first time around are completely different in his (our) situation. Trust me, it took me two years to say it, but I shouldn't have been in the other one to begin with. Hindsight and maturity tells me that blaming what went wrong in a crappy-to-begin-with relationship on the Pentagon is about as ludicrous as saying that my hangover headache is caused by cell phone waves...there might be a slight connection, but there's much more of a chance that the most obvious problems caused it. I'm glad I DID go through it before, because I probably would be freaking out the same way I did the first time if I hadn't gone through it. He doesn't need that kind of freakout, and to be honest, I'm completely okay with the whole thing. I don't WANT him to go (hint, hint, Obama), but he's certainly not the kind of guy to run out on his obligations like that. I think it's a pretty admirable thing to do, especially since he didn't HAVE to choose that line of work - he went to one of the best schools in the nation for both his undergraduate and masters degrees and definitely could have found another way to pay for it in this day and age, but he chose it because of what it instilled in him as well as what it gave this country. Just thought I'd clear that up since - I'll be honest - I'd be a little wary of it too if I were my friends, given the insanity of two years ago. For the record, Kate gives her approval, and that girl has NEVER given her approval to a guy I've dated. Until now. ;)

Anyway, I'm still wondering...what's in the box? It's killing me.

All in a weekend's time.

So here's my to-do list this weekend. It's en-or-mous. I seem to remember this working (relatively) well over memorial day weekend, so here you go. Yell at me if I don't get it all done.

1. Ship painting out to buyer.
2. Deposit check from said buyer
3. Ship business textbook out that I sold on Amazon.
4. Decide what the heck to prime on the linen canvas I just bought and just do it.
5. Draw saved sketch on said painting.
6. Finish the painting on my easel right now.
7. Get painting on loan over to Court & Marf's house.
8. Straighten bookshelves in studio (baby steps, y'all. Baby steps.)
9. Dole out Christmas goodies and begin to take them to the people that will receive them.
10. Water the Christmas tree so it doesn't dry out before Dan gets here.
11. Varnish the big painting.
12. Buy some sort of bedspread - cheap.
13. Wrap up last Christmas present.
14. Write my sister/ex-stepmother a thank-you note/Christmas card.
15. Write down the return addresses from the Christmas cards I got.
16. Write my grandmother a thank-you note for the past year.
17. Send my stepdad a check for shipping something for me last week.
18. Find some cheap pants to wear to the corporate job (nothing fits, darn it)
19. Clean up the laundry insanity outside my room.
20. Get ski clothes out of storage shed and figure out what I need to buy for skiing over New Years.
21. Figure out what needs to be shipped from Ebay.
22. Resist the urge to open the gift for me in Kate's room. (More on that later)
23. Vacuum the whole house.
24. Research what the heck to do on New Years Eve if we don't have a party.
25. Plan what to serve if we DO have a party and invite people.
26. Change sheets on my bed.
27. Get the trash organized on the back porch.
28. Prime plywood panels on back porch.
29. Respond to my editor with exactly what's holding me up and what I need in specific, tangible terms.
30. Book dentist appointment.
31. Inventory canvas ready to go and plan what to do with them.
32. Inventory half-finished paintings and either chart a course of action, scrap them or paint over them.
33. Decide whether or not I will be able to attend and/or be a bridesmaid in my friend Kelly's wedding.
34. Farecast ticket to my friend Mary's wedding.
35. Start sorting through 2008 receipts and find out who to talk with for free tax advice.
36. Sort through sketches, pitch the trash and keep the good/decent stuff.
37. Print out and fill out NC business paperwork.
38. Put the Christmas stuff we didn't use in the storage shed.
39. Make a plan of how to pay to fix my transmission. Doorbuster savings on original art, y'all!
40. Clean trash out of every room in the house.

I better stop there. I'm already exhausted.

My feet are killing me after working only half my jobs...and I wore flats today.

Melissa, I tip my hat to you, I don't know how you do it.

I've been temping full-time at a firm in Charlotte to make ends meet - 'scuse me, bring the ends a bit closer together - and I'm physically exhausted. And I've still got stuff for my real job(s) to do. I need to make a dent in my taxes for 2008, I need to ship a painting, I need to get back to my long-neglected editor (who THANK GOD I haven't taken an advance from on writing stuff, else I'd be up Shite Creek without a proverbial paddle), I need to fill out the paperwork for establishing a business in North Carolina, prime canvas, sort through a mound of sketches, ship something I sold on Amazon, finish client gifts that are obviously NOT getting to them before Christmas and as always, I need to clean the ever-living crap out of my studio. Notice I haven't even begun to mention actual artwork that needs to just get DONE. I also have an absurd number of tasks that I just have to do for living as well - paying bills, cleaning the house, getting ready for my boyfriend to come visit, scheduling a doctor's appointment...the list is endless.

I went into business for myself full-time rather quickly. I had been working myself to the bone in the corporate world and was painting in my spare time. Towards the end, I simply had no spare time in which to actually paint because of said working to said bone...for my own sanity, it's way better that things worked out the way they did. As we all know, a 9 to 5 gig, in many of our careers, simply isn't just a 9 to 5 thing. It's blackberries going off at 3 am needing urgent action, working lunch with an emphasis on the first word of that phrase, 200 emails a day that "just need five minutes of your time" (you do the math), and daily panic attacks given the thought of staying in the job for five more years. Oh, wait, that last one might just be me. Conversely, as Drena will attest, running your own business doesn't exactly give you any less work hassle. In fact, you go from one boss to an infinite number of them - every single one of your customers.

I've always compared running your own business to the mindset of college. No, I don't mean where you get to show up for class in your sweats reeking of Jack Daniels and last night's smoke-filled bar. I'm talking about that feeling that I associate with college where no matter how far ahead you are in your work, you always have this sinking feeling when you take some time for non-work activities that you could and should be doing something else to get ahead. Even if it's just studying or reviewing the strategy for the coming months, there's never a shortage of work to be done.

I'm lucky enough that I'm temping at a place that supposedly strikes a balance for their employees in the work-life struggle, but I have to be honest - half of the reason I left at 5 today is because I will NOT break my back for them when I'm being paid hourly. They told me to keep it at an 8-hour day, and I'm holding them to that. There's a chance they might want me to stay on longer - which I'm not opposed to, the money is good to have and I have a transmission to fix, dagnammit. I know that if I need the gig any longer, I have to show them the value of me being there, which I believe I'm doing. I haven't turned down one iota of work, and when I'm there, I work eight hours. I'm sorting through the mountain of destruction that has been caused by countless useless temps before me, and believe me when I say that they absolutely need someone doing what I'm doing. Without getting too revealing, I don't believe they can be legally compliant without my project getting done soon. They seem to realize that, however - that I'm actually coming cheap, relatively speaking. Most of what I'm just picking up and running with is stuff that a majority of large corporations hire high-priced consultants to do. That being said, I've adjusted to it with only a week or two of intense bitching about being back in the corporate world.

Obviously, however, I can't let what I REALLY want to do fall to the wayside. I'm committed to still plugging in a full-time effort to my own business, because if I don't, I'll just fall back into the "well, the money's good..." trap. Just today, I got into work at 8 am the day after Christmas, and I spent 45 minutes my lunch hour on the phone with a gallery, only to be finally told that they've got no funding and no room for me "in the foreseeable future". In my industry, this means one of two things: either they hate your stuff or they're about five seconds away from closing up shop in our lovely economy. Either way, it's no skin off my back - rejection is definitely part of the game - but as a result...I had coffee for lunch. Now I remember why I weighed 93 lbs when I left the corporate world - I literally had no time to eat. I just got home and raced in to let the dogs out (Kate's in Maryland for Christmas, so I've got double dog duty all week), kicked off my shoes and stared at my pile of work for the art job...

...and instead I'm on here typing to y'all. Seriously, Melissa, I don't know how you run your corporate career plus your business on the side, at least not without the help of serious narcotics. Drena, I know you're only a week or two into motherhood, but I don't know how you run your business with a baby either - I feel like I could feasibly do a corporate gig while being a mom, if needed (disclaimer: yes, I know it's hard and impossible to run both perfectly regardless) however running your own business - where there's really no maternity leave without just forgoing the income - just seems so overwhelming that I know I'll probably have to have an enormous amount saved to get through those years without inflicting serious harm on myself or others. If I ever contemplate doing all of this - the self-employed plus a full-time thing - with actual children in tow, someone call Child Services as soon as I'm pregnant. There simply are not enough hours in the day, period.

That being said, I gotta go get some work done. I haven't even walked into the office, so to speak, at my "real job" today. So much for the "weekend".

All I want for Christmas - updated

Yeah, I know. What a good-looking present. That thing's worth its weight in gold, however.

I hope everyone had a very Merry Christmas, it's certainly a nice one here as it's about 75 degrees and almost blindingly sunny in Charlotte. On Monday, I was almost positive we'd have a White Christmas - the sky was a lovely dove grey and it was SUPER cold. My knee even hurt, which is usually more accurate than the weatherman. But here I am in an almost tropical Christmas. I'd lay out if my pale skin didn't blind the neighbors.

What have I done for Christmas? Well, I spent it with Colonel Mustard, Kate's dog Bambi, a nice big supply of Thera-Flu and a broken transmission. I was already halfway iffy on going home since I have to work tomorrow at my new temp job (more on that later), and this week, I started noticing my transmission wasn't behaving like it normally does. Lo and behold, when it rains, it pours. Transmission's shot. Going to cost almost $3,000 to fix, which, of course, I don't have laying around. I'm working for the next two months in this job, but between that and rent, I'm still going to be pretty strapped. So much for using my Christmas money for things I actually want, or hell, need. Oh well.

However, don't cry for me, Argentina. I have not had a depressing Christmas in the least. I got up at 11 am, cleaned the house, finished wrapping my gift for the Green Giant (he gets here on the 28th), organized my bathroom and worked on some artwork, which has taken somewhat of a backseat these past few weeks because of the temp job that exhausts me. I was going to go to Meghan's last night and possibly this afternoon, but I haven't been feeling well and am trying to stave off what I hope is not the flu. I feel a bit better than I did yesterday, but I needed the rest.

yellow sky and blue on Christmas

I'm feeling kinda bummed lately about Christmas for a bunch of reasons, most of which center around the fact that it just hasn't really been the same for me since 2003. Well, 2002, I guess, since 2003 was the one that really sucked. I'm not really doing anything - and I repeat anything - for Christmas, partly because of money reasons but mostly because I'm trying not to be Debbie Downer, especially this year.

So I'm going to borrow some of Meghan's initiative and try and do some sort of crafty thing. I don't really know what, and I don't think I can top her Magnolia wreath, but I want to do something.

Anyone have any ideas? Send them to me.

The picture is just off my easel...no title yet, and it's nothing in particular. Just wanted to do a yellow sky and put the light far off.

Priorities: a short story.

Taken from Gmail chat today at 3:26

me:
My love for a clean computer and my love for grilled cheese sammiches are two loves that simply can not reconcile each other.

Giant:
I love grilled cheese more. Food first.

me:
Um, that's why I love you. We have the same priorities.

I can't believe I've never posted this...

I discussed this piece recently with a few others on both sides of the war. Today I realized that I've never shared it here, so here you go, one of the best things I've read in years. It's completely taken from an NPR broadcast, and has been published on several other sites. I read it a few years ago and was struck by how succinctly and quickly he made such a remarkable point that few consider.

If anyone from NPR is reading this and would like me to remove it, please contact me at harringtonmolly (at) -gmail dot com and I will promptly remove or give additional credit as necessary.


The following commentary originally aired on the October 19, 2006, edition of National Public Radio's "All Things Considered."

Moving from the War to Law School at Yale
By Ken Harbaugh '08

There was a popular rock song last summer with the lyrics, "Why do they always send the poor to war?" Of course, the accusation being that it’s always poor Americans who get trapped into military service.

At Yale, I hear the same sort of idea all the time. Recently a classmate said something like this: Isn’t the U.S. Army just a mercenary army? I mean, they use financial incentives to recruit, right? Should people who join for money expect us to care when they’re sent to war?

Whenever the subject of demographic imbalance arises – that’s a clever way of saying the poor do our fighting – my professors and classmates usually dwell on the unfortunate circumstances that compel certain segments of our society to enlist.

It is true that many of the people with whom I served joined for economic reasons. Some wanted money for college. Others wanted to see the world, or just leave a bad neighborhood. More importantly, though, they all wanted to do something noble in the process.

Most Yalies I talk to cannot comprehend why reenlistment rates today are so high, even in wartime. It’s because many who joined for money end up staying out of a sense of duty - to their comrades and to their country. On an Ivy League campus, so insulated from the real meaning of sacrifice, that can be a baffling concept.

Not so long ago, elite schools sent a sizeable chunk of their graduating classes into the military. These days, hardly anyone goes. Some of my classmates honestly feel the American military does more harm in the world than good. But people here are smart so that attitude is rare. Others will not or cannot serve because of policies like don’t ask, don’t tell. I sympathize but disagree with those who think the best way to fix the military is to stiff-arm it.

Most of my friends at Yale, however, won’t contemplate military service because they feel they are too valuable. To those who don’t know any better, serving in uniform seems like Neanderthalic drudgery. My friends are often shocked that many military folks, like myself, actually had other options in life. Still, why risk one’s body when the brain it holds up is worth so much?

The best answer I have depends on ideas that don’t get much traction around here, like duty and patriotism. At Yale it is easy to pretend there isn’t a war going on because so few of us have been.

America’s military has always answered to a civilian leadership. That leadership is supplied by great institutions like Yale. Yet the elites who shape our national policy are growing dangerously out of touch with the men and women sent to fight in their place.

It is an unfortunate truth that some social economic groups bear far heavier burdens than others in defending this country but for all the nuanced explanations out there, the real reason we always send the poor is because the privileged refuse to go.

Ken Harbaugh spent nine years in the Navy before he started Yale Law School last year.

A wedding extravaganza in our Nation's Capital...

I just got back from Washington D.C. tonight - I'm exhausted, but I had an incredible time. I went to the wedding of one of the college roommates of the Green Giant.

So here's a run-down...

I got into Reagan National Airport early Thursday morning. By "early", of course, I mean "earlier than I've been up in two years." I was super-happy to get there, though - he met me right outside security and I got to see his crazy haven't-shaved-since-the-last-time-we-saw-each-other beard. I've never been one for facial hair, but wow.

We spent most of Thursday indoors, I finished my book while G worked, we ran an errand, and then we got some delicious Mexican food up the street with his roommate. Friday was the day of the rehearsal, so we took it a bit easy then as well and got ourselves ready for the rehearsal. As is customary, I had forgotten a few things at home - a curling iron, hairspray, pantyhose. At this point, however, G had to get a haircut.

I should explain here. As this was going to be a full military wedding and G was part of the sword arch, he was going to be in full dress uniform. G has been on reserve for the Marines for some time now, and...well, he looks good scruffy too, so he's let it grow out. I was a little nervous about him getting it cut, because I'll be honest - I MET him because I looked across the skeezy bar and said "I LIKE THAT REALLY TALL BLONDE SHAGGY ONE". But he looked REALLY good with the haircut, and though the shave took a full TWO days to get it all, he finally got it all cut by Friday. G put on his...dapperest...three-piece suit, and I was rather impressed. He looked mighty handsome.

Friday night was the Rehearsal and Rehearsal Dinner, which was a lot of fun. The rehearsal showed me the church, which I feel bad even calling "a church". This - CATHEDRAL - St Matthews - was bigger than any church I've probably ever been to in the United States. That picture of JFK Jr saluting his father's coffin? Taken on its steps. Because it's the same place where JFK's funeral mass was held. Jeez, this ain't Lynchburg, Virginia, y'all. The rehearsal dinner was held at the Army Navy Club, near the church. We had a great meal and we all enjoyed ourselves, followed by a rousing few drinks at the pub around the corner.

So of course we woke up a tad late on Saturday. G had to be at the wedding for pictures at 12:30, and I was due to meet him at the church at 2:30. I had him get showered first, and while he did that, I got my own outfit prepared. I was proud of myself - I was all ready to go. He got showered, I jumped in behind him and he began to take out his uniform.

And then the feces hit the proverbial oscillating rotor.

I watched G put his uniform pants on - and they did NOT want to button. After giggling at him a bit (we've all had those days where we can't fit in our pants), I helped him and asked if he had another pair. "Of course!" he exclaimed, "these are probably the ones the cleaners shrank!" Second pair came out of the closet. Even smaller. Yes, he had gained a few pounds. Back to the first pair. They button, but barely. His standard-issue shirt will not fit either. This means that he has to wear a t-shirt and just the jacket. The jacket goes on.

Suddenly I'm reminded of this.

Really, I'm about dying at this point. I'm laughing hysterically. It's 12:15. He's a groomsman. And in the sword arch. You JUST don't see FAT MARINES - especially OFFICERS - walking around WASHINGTON DC. Even though I want to laugh my face off, I know that my sole duty at this point is to get this chubby Captain in his uniform and to a certain Church on time. So I rack my brain and remember that wool stretches when it's wet.

"G, do you have a spray bottle?"

"no, just Febreeze."

"That'll work. Okay, hold each side of your jacket, and when I spray, I want you to pull as hard as you can on both sides. The wool will only stretch when it's wet."

"Oh jeez. Okay. I already can't breathe from my pants anyway."

I try to muffle the rest of my laughter, but it's not happening. It's seriously hysterically funny. You know when you get a bad button-down and it won't go across the bust without pulling the buttons and puckering? Yeah, that's what his uniform jacket was doing. AT EVERY BUTTON. I was hoping that military construction would be the only thing to keep his buttons from popping off. Thank God they did. We finally got him in his uniform and off to the church, where I realized that the stiff-legged march of soldiers probably comes from pants like his - he literally couldn't move in them.

The ceremony was beautiful, and I found my hot marine a few hours later when I met up with him at the reception. He was in pain and avoiding anything with salt as he couldn't eat anything that would retain water. I still wanted to laugh. The reception, held at the Washington DC Shriners' headquarters, was SO much fun. I've never seen anything quite so funny as a 6'5" man in a Marine uniform, dancing up a storm. Picture a Weimeraner trying to stay upright on a slick floor - it's just all arms and legs.

After the reception, we headed home pretty early (I was exhausted, we were both starving) and we decided to hit the diner on the way. It must have been quite a sight - he in full uniform, me in a black cocktail dress, red pumps and a full-length dress coat - because the drunks in his part of town (Adams Morgan) had another comment for us every five seconds or so. The host at the diner shook his hand and thanked him rather profusely, a guy who looked about 18 said "Semper Fi, sir" (G thought it was probably a young enlisted guy who recognized his rank by his uniform) and - my favorite - a bum screamed "YEAH THAT'S WHAT I'm TALKIN BOUT" as we walked by. Only in DC.

Finally, after an exhausting day, we struggled G up the stairs into his room. He couldn't get out of his uniform. Seriously, it was THAT tight. It took five or six inhales and exhales just for me to get the NECK undone. The buttons hurt my hands so bad I can still feel it. Had I not been there, I'm not kidding - he would have had to cut thousands of dollars worth of military uniform off himself. So I really felt sorry for him and helped him. As I'm helping him get the WORST button off (right on his stomach, where the belt was), he realizes I feel sorry for him and probably won't say no if he asks. So he asks very quietly...

"can we please watch the Eagles tomorrow?"

Pictures tomorrow.

A rebuttal to John Cleese

I recently found this online, a letter to the American people by famed British comedien John Cleese.  I know that he's completely saying this as a playful jab, which is why I'm still a raving fan of his.  For the record, if you're offended by anyone poking fun at the British, the Americans, Lee Greenwood or Queen Elizabeth II or anything else, then don't read this.  But if you read Cleese's letter, you may read on.

Because I have space on the internet too (thank you Blogger), and I thought I'd issue a bit of a rebuttal...

Hey Cleesey-Poo:

We were never quite as formal as you were, so I'll spare you the whole "Dear Citizens of..." business.  Since you're apparently speaking for all of Britain (England? UK? Seriously, decide on a name at some point), I'll respond to you by yourself.  Of course I speak for everyone.  Sike.  I can say whatever I want, and no one can really stop me except in certain circumstances, but no one hired me.  When we won the, ahem, Revolutionary War, we kinda put that one on the top of the list.

While we appreciate the invitation, we're going to have to go ahead and say no to old Lizzie Deuce's offer to assume monarchical duties for us.  I know, you miss your jolly old Empire, but really, I think you managed to squander that huge collection of colonies pretty quickly in the latter half of the nineteenth century and during the 20th century.  Tell you what - if you give us the rest of the British Virgin Islands, we'll go ahead and make them a state (to keep the even 50), you can have New Jersey.  It's not our favorite and we'd love for you to teach it some class, like on that reality show where they take trashy girls and get Mr Belvedere to teach them how to walk with books on their heads.  We'll admit, you're pretty good at making things look a little classier.  

But I digress.  I wanted to get to your issues.

1. I didn't know there were multiple pronunciations for "revocation".  The extra-I-in-Aluminium thing I knew about, but I think this might be an etymological evolution kind of thing.  Y'all gave up thee, thou, and thy eventually, and you're almost there with this one.  Say it with me.  A-loo-men-um.  

2. I like those u's out of color/flavor/neighbor the way we have them.  I'll give you "doughnut" instead of "donut", but I must admit I've always wondered where the "nut" is in a doughnut.

3. FINE.  I don't care WHAT you do with Pittsburgh, actually, it's not my favorite town either.  Take it with Jersey.  Man, y'all get picky for people who routinely say "ALLO" when the proper "hello" doesn't take any less energy to say.  And besides, doesn't "Pittsburgh" LOOK like how we say it?  Seems to fit the pronunciation guide from your item #1 with a silent 'h', not with an extra 'a' and a silent 'g' like you're suggesting.

4. Agreed on the eliminating half the "like"s from our speech.  Please pass this on to your young subjects, who seem to be just as atrocious at the Queen's English as ours do.

5.  There's no "US English" despite Microsoft's saying so?  Oh, well I'm an Apple girl myself, and we do the same thing.  So it must be good. And besides - since we take credit for Microsoft, we'll just call our English "the one and only English".  Better yet, let's call it American and eliminate the "English" altogether as its description anyway.

6.  Why do you INSIST on changing the words to "My Country 'tis of Thee"?  And why "God Save the Queen"?  Isn't she capable of saving herself?  At the very least, she's got a lot of guards in those knock-off Marine uniforms and the big grizzly hats outside her house.  Maybe they should actually guard the darn Queen instead of standing outside taking pictures with tourists if you feel that she's in danger.

7.  Sorry, but the the hotdog and hamburger manufacturers, the parade float manufacturers and the used-car and electronics salespersons lobbies will all revolt if we take away the Fourth of July.  There's absolutely no other way to have a mid-summer sale on that stuff without the Fourth of July.  Lee Greenwood's record label has pledged unlimited militia funding if we threaten to stop the royalties for playing "God Bless the USA" at minor-league baseball games and Busch League racetracks.  You do NOT want to get into a fight with fans of guns and "God Bless the USA".  Trust me on this.  Just trust me.

8.  If we gave up guns, lawyers and therapists, how in the world would we have gotten you out of World War II?  We keep the guns around because the awful mean British King said we couldn't have them in the late 18th century.  When we got our own country, we wanted to play with them a little.  So we did, and we helped you out of a few wars because we got really good at them.  And how bout this - I will give up HALF of our lawyers and therapists if you just do me a favor and double your dentists.  Sound like a fair deal?

9.  About the vegetable peeler - please don't carry anything related to food.  You're not good at food.  Do as we've done and outsource it to countries who do it better.  The Italians are really good at food, as are the French.  Just leave it to them.  

10.  Please don't trust the Germans to think for you.  I know, you like their pretty cars, but really...there's no English cars out there.  You know what happened last time you gave those Germans too much.  We had to go over there and bail you out.  Think of them like that cool older teenager down the street - very pretty, very flashy, but if you don't watch yourself...you can easily get in a whole heap of trouble.

11.  "Look kids, Big Ben, Parliament!"  No, we don't like traffic circles, even with the cutesy name "roundabout".  However, if you agree to name them "roundhouses" and place statues of Chuck Norris in every center, we may be able to talk.  But on the metric vs standard system thing - I don't think YOU have even figured out which one to use.  So I propose a third, better system.  All weight/mass units will be multiples or portions of the exact weight of a can of Jif Peanut Butter.  We all know that by heart, and you need to start getting to know the wonder of peanut butter.  It's nummy and far better than marmalade or vegemite, that awful crap you allowed your penal colony down south to create.  All length units will be multiples or portions of the exact size of the aforementioned Buckingham Palace guards' hats.  We like our stuff BIG, in case you didn't notice, and those hats are, well, SMASHING.

12.  Petrol would seem to be short for "petroleum", which reminds me of Vaseline.  This rhymes with gasoline.  Now see here, I think you're just getting difficult.  Gasoline it is.  Really, $8 a gallon?  Dude, you should TOTALLY bitch to old Lizzie (or whoever that guy you're dealing with instead of her is) about that.  You're paying $8 a gallon and she gets that super-sparkly hat down at the tower?  NO FAIR.  Our prez only gets like $250k a year, max.  And his house is WAY smaller and there's no horsey show in front every day like your guys.  Maybe you can cut back on royal houses and put the money towards gasoline savings.  Wow, I just solved your gas problem.

13.  Dude, have you TRIED McDonald's fries?  They're like heaven.  And like I said before, pleeeeease don't start with the food.  You're not good at it.  

14.  Sure, if your subjects are trained to tip American waiters and waitresses.  

15.  You can call it whatever you want - beer, lager, piss, what have you.  But please serve it cold, if I'm coming in after a hot day, I want a cold one, not a tepid one.  

16.  The English Good Guy market has been exclusively cornered by Hugh Grant, and we're working on anti-competitive laws to combat his hold on it, but for now, it's just him.  Oh, and Andie MacDowell played an American in Four Weddings, hence the lack of an English Accent.  I'll gladly stop letting American actors project bad British accents as long as you take Madonna and Gwyneth for good.  We'll keep the Beckhams instead - they're fun.  

17.  What, for the love of God, are you talking about?  We play football AND soccer.  We were just generous enough to split the sports up and play both.  Now we're not all that great at soccer, we know, but please, until you start at least getting NEAR us on the Olympic medal count, let's leave the sports to us.  Your hooligans are funny though.  Keep them.

18.  Baseball...well, we DO play in Canada if one of their teams makes it to the World Series, but yeah, I know, Canada's almost the US anyway.  However, we do import the best talent in the game from many other countries and we're currently signing all Dominican boys to a guaranteed league minimum at birth.  We'll stick with the World theme, it makes us feel inclusive.  And lastly, we had to pick baseball - because cricket is just RIDICULOUS.  I'm currently trying to decide if anyone whose uniforms involve white V-neck sweaters should be referred to as a sport, so I'll spare the argument and offer a compromise - if you get cricket, then we DEFINITELY get baseball.  

19.  After many years of thorough investigation, we've concluded that JFK shot himself.  

20.  Oh gosh, more talk on taxes.  Didn't we win in the first movie, the Revolutionary War, AND in the sequel that came out in 1812?  I bet you're still pissed about that Boston Tea Party mess, aren't you?  Ha, that was so fun.  Well, honestly, it was a drunken frat prank, no harm meant. You don't have to get all huffy about it.  We're more of coffee drinkers now anyway, so you can't really tax our tea.  But Really, you've got to do something about Queenie getting her paws all over the revenue.  I know, she likes to spoil her grandchildren - if I had that Wills, I'd spoil him rotten (among other things) as well.  Tell ya what - let her make those big pretty hats that them guards wear and she can sell them on etsy.  All the grandmothers are doing etsy these days, Buffy, it's ALL the new rage - be a modern woman and earn your keep!

In summary, John, I thank you for your suggestions and just wanted to follow up with a response.  Hope you're doing well over there in London town, and PLEASE send me one of those big pretty hats.

WBS/LYLAS/BFF,

Molly.

Your book nerd checking in.

I was at Target last night with my cousin and suddenly decided that I absolutely could not live for ONE MORE DAY without reading the Twilight book. I am a firm believer in reading the book before I see the movie. This comes in handy since I've seen about three movies in three years - I have plenty of time. But it looks like a pretty quick read, so I decided to pick it up. Kate and I got to talking about what this Twilight "phenomenon" is, however, and I started thinking. It's not really the "next Harry Potter" - it seems to have a slightly older audience and this thing begins when they're teenagers. It's also not really the next Ann Rice - it's way more "normal" than that and it seems to be way lighter in tone than Interview with the Vampire. It also doesn't seem to be the next Sweet Valley High, but OHMYGOSH Elizabeth and Jessica Wakefield SERIOUSLY need to make a comeback into my life. That bitch Lila Fowler just NEEDS someone to teach her a LESSON. And a couple of super-sleuthing blonde twins would be the PERFECT ones to do it.

Yes, in case you can't tell, I was a capital-R Reader growing up. Those "Reading Incentive" sheets where you had to read for 15 minutes a day to get an invite to the pizza party at the end of the month? Yeah, my mom stopped making me keep track and just signed it without times on it. We weren't allowed to watch TV on school nights - seriously, I was EIGHTEEN before I saw my first permitted episode of Beverly Hills, 90210 - and so I read like crazy. I would venture to guess that I learned more about the birds and the bees through VC Andrews, The Baby-Sitters Club and Judy Blume than from my actual parents. Thank God. Eww.

But I digress. Best I can compare the Twilight book with?

Christopher Pike. Oh yes, we remember him. The one who basically paved the way for I Know What You Did Last Summer and the Scream trilogy. You started to read the book, and you were usually halfway convinced that it was a ghost or some monster that was chasing after the heroine, who was that awkward-and-just-wants-to-fit-in-and-usually-named-Jamie-or-something-slightly-cool-but-unassuming. Then at the end it was that drifter who came by her house around page 12, and the popular-and-cute-but-doesn't-like-it-when-his-fellow-jocks-are-so-jocky-because-he's-secretly-really-smart-and-doesn't-need-the-extra-math-help-that-Jamie-tutors-him-for ends up saving the day. They end up presumably dating and the mean girl gets in trouble for breaking curfew.

Okay not really a direct comparison to Twilight, but the character development still seems to be the same. Stay tuned. If I can get through the first quarter of the book, I'll update you soon.

PS - I got this idea from a friend of mine. Not necessarily for this book per se, but would anyone be interested in doing some sort of Book Club blog? What we can do is all be contributors for it, and there's some sort of questions that go along with the book. At the end, we all post our reactions to it. I generally detest going to the book clubs where it ends up being 10 people sitting in a circle, all of whom don't want to be there, and half didn't read the book. This way you only have to post if you read it and want to talk about it, and we can abbreviate the posts so that people who didn't read it can spare themselves the spoilers. Any takers?

Ebay Madness!

Alas, money. My favorite subject. Or not.

I put an ad on Craigslist today saying I'd sell people's stuff on ebay in exchange for a cut of the profits. Only a few have responded, but I can post stuff pretty quickly now that I've gotten used to it, and by now I know the ins and outs of selling things. It's a pretty steep learning curve, but Kate and I managed to pick up a couple hundred bucks for our own stuff and I figure there's others out there who might need the same thing done for them around the holidays. Plus I can still work from home, there's no real entry to the market cost, and I can turn down whatever I know I can't sell or that I know I can't sell for a good price. If you know anyone in the area who wants their stuff sold, please pass my info along - I charge less than most of those "I'll sell your stuff on ebay" places on the internet or those ebay stores, and I pay in CASH!

Trying

to be happier, see?

I saw this on my RSS reader and really liked it.



Marc and Angel Hack Life
Practical Tips for Productive Living


December 1st, 2008 @ 8:29 am by: Marc
What We All Want To Be When
We Grow Up

Find what makes you happy

When I was in elementary school my parents told me it didn’t matter what I did when I grew up, so long as it made me happy. “Happiness is the whole point of life”, my father said. “Your mother loves to help people, so she became a nurse. I love reading, writing and poetry, so I became an English teacher. We both find happiness in the work we do each day.”

A few years later when I was in junior high, my grumpy 6th grade homeroom teacher put me in detention for “being difficult”. She went around the classroom and asked each student what they wanted to be when they grew up. When she got to me, I told her I wanted to be happy. She told me I was missing the whole point of the question. I told her she was missing the whole point of life.

What do we all want to be when we grow up? Happy… that is all. Find what makes you happy and do it until you die.

Randoms

Because I'm not even BUSY, but I don't really have time to carve out these days to do this.

1. Thanksgiving = whole lot of fun. I think I already blogged about that, right? Right.
Anyway, the pic is of us in St Augustine on the way back. SUCH a cute little city, we had drinks, a long dinner, and counted all the Jean Shorts we saw in the North Florida crowd.

2. I'm ebaying off a whole bunch of stuff. Why? Because I have no money.

3. Hey, by the way, paintings make great Christmas gifts!

4. I went to the dentist on Tuesday. EIGHT cavities. My dentist complimented me on my insane obsession with dental care, but he said unfortunately, I just have bad genetics. Plus, like the Harrington side of the family, I apparently grind my teeth in my sleep to the point where it's wearing down my teeth. All added together, I have to pay $500 to get my teeth filled - and that's WITH dental insurance! Two are immediate and HAVE to get done now or else I'll risk a root canal, the others I can wait on...however, I'm pimping out that ACT mouthwash that repairs soft spots and surface cavities. I seriously started crying in the dentist's office because I realized I couldn't afford it, the poor little dental hygeinist was about to cry herself. Anyone know a dentist who wants some artwork?

5. Yeah, it's a bit cranky for me this week. But I'm nevertheless thrilled about the FIVE total babies I know of that are literally due at any second. Apparently there was a massive party where my friends all got really drunk with their husbands exactly nine months ago!

6. Going to a wedding in Washington DC next weekend with the Green Giant. I'm having the most massive fat week on earth and I have nothing to wear. Yes, I'm slightly cranky. I'm sorry. I'm working on it.

Hope. Change. And she'll pee on your bed.

Explaining:
1. My cousin Kate has a dog named Bambi.
2. Bambi is a chihuahua.
3. Bambi is insane.
4. Seriously. She's crazy.
5. She probably thinks she HAS been elected president.