Turn it over:
Not to be party pooper, and it’s great that you realized your dream of making a one of a kind tribute to your Mother in Law (and kudos for actually liking your MIL) and getting into the Guinness Book of World Records to boot, but, um –
Couldn’t you think of anything better to do with 600 loaves of bread!
Read the full story here
Never really listened to Elvis Costello. The only songs of his I ever heard were the ones that became pop-ish hits – “Every Day I Write the Book” and “Alison”. Just “discovered” this truly haunting, amazing piece of work called “I Want You” in an article about cover songs that are better than the original. It mentioned Fiona Apple’s cover of the song so, of course, I had to listen to the original to compare. They’re both – beautiful, but yeah, Fiona is perfect for this. Compare the two and let me know what you think in the comments.
Amy Winehouse killed herself.
Did she commit suicide? Technically, no. But she contributed to her own death. My God – her first big hit “Rehab” – “They tried to make me go to rehab, I said no, no, no!”
It’s shocking, but not unexpected. It’s sad but ridiculous. So much strong talent and so much weakness to the addiction.
I have sympathy for her family and true friends who’ve surely struggled through her addictions and troubles. I have contempt for hangers-on and yes-men who just wanted to keep the money flowing.
I’m speaking as an outsider – I’ve never done drugs, even casually. I’ve just never seen the appeal of them. I’m not a prude. I mean, I get it, kind of. They feel good, and you forget your problems. They just seem to lead to more (even bigger) problems that are just not worth dealing with.
I guess people just see it as a phase or a rite of passage. For some people it ends up being a lifestyle. And for others, famous or not it ends up being the passing of life. Regardless of my (or anyone’s) personal feelings (complicated and conflicted) about drugs, drug usage, drug abusers, druggies, addicts, drug survivors, or ‘simple’ dabblers, we can still mourn the loss of someone so talented who succumbed, repeatedly, to bad choices.
RIP Amy. We can feel sad and angry and shocked at what happened but yes, Amy. We will still love you – today, tomorrow — and always.
Basically salty, sugary, creamy, fried, gooey,
melty, decadent, comforting –
Basically salty, sugary, creamy, fried, gooey, melty, decadent, comforting, yummy.
And … how are we supposed to
get out of the building?
Day 1 of construction. Or should I say demolition and destruction. It starts predictably early. About 7:50 am. Am I being picky by thinking they could have waited 10 more minutes? It’s the humane thing to do. I look out the window – trucks and men, pavers and wood; activity, movement. Annoyance.
Banging. Thunking. Eventually some sort of power tool comes out. About 10 after, somebody rings my bell twice. Since I’m in a relatively pantsless state I ignore it. It’s not for me, specifically, anyway. I know it’s not. After I finish throwing something on some clothes there are no more rings. I go into the other room, through the window I hear my landlord (the son) say “she can’t find the key. She’s going somewhere else to see if she can find it”. So, see – I was right.
I decide to go take a gander at all the activity, snap some pics and oh yeah – see how to get out of here if I don’t feel like being trapped. Go out in the hallway, my landlord (the mother) is out there. I make a beeline back inside. Don’t want idle convo. Plus her voice is like a cheese grater. I’ll peek out later.
As I type there’s some sort of mechanical madness going on – jackhammer, grinder, power juicer, supersonic vibrator – who knows? Well – I hope they like my music – ‘cuz it’ll be blastin’!
There’s also this burning smell. Yeah – I see lots of aspirin in my future.
Was just going through my folder of partially done stuff to find something to write about. Had a bunch of completed items that had been posted but just hadn’t been moved to my “published” folder. Found the following post and couldn’t find it already on the blog. I still have a nagging suspicion that I actually posted it already, but … what the hell? It’s going up again.
What’s been the hardest part of the challenge?
Finding something interesting to write about and having something half-way interesting to say. Being disciplined enough to do it every single day. And it’s not like I don’t have the time – I just don’t do it. I can spend time on TV, on Scrabble, endless attempts at organization, sleep, and just plain laziness. Sometimes I actually do other stuff that needs to be done – like housework.
I’m not avoiding it. It’s not like doing it is painful. A lot of times I really can’t come up with anything that inspires me. Even when I actively sit in front of the computer and try to find something, anything that will create a brain spark I’ll come up with other stuff that can fill the blog – lots of visually interesting stuff for the various galleries. But not necessarily something I want to write about.
A lot of times I’ll go through the little snippets of thought, phrases or ideas I’ve jotted down and add a word or a line here and there, but nothing that would work as a completed piece.
I know some people do a bunch of posts and store them up, but if I’m having trouble coming up with one little post each day, a whole bunch of posts at one time probably aren’t going to start flying from my typing fingers, either.
But – I will continue with this challenge. I still have the snippets to go through and you could look at something 10 times with no result and then – Eureka!!
Voile!! Or even – Heavens to Murgatroyd!!
Yeah – I can’t imagine myself shouting any of that either. But you get the idea. And some days, I get it too.