It's been a strange few days. I spent most of Saturday just lounging around the house cooking this and that and doing a little housework. Once I'd created my very own version of an Italian meatloaf and whipped up some risotto, I decided to settle in and finally watch the Netflix movie that had been laying around my house for several days, Sylvia. I had been putting it off, because a person has to be in just the right mood to enjoy what promises to be at least a slight downer. I was also a little anxious because much lesser things (like being out of freezer pops) often have the power to drop kick my mood into blackness. The movie itself was ok...not great...but on the ok-plus side, and it was good enough to make me do something I thought I'd never do...re-read The Bell Jar.

I was a late comer to the book, being somewhere around the age of 21 before picking it up for the first time. The timing couldn't have been worse. I was probably my most self-absorbed, self-pitying, all-about-my-self self at that point in my former life. I plunged into it so empathetically at the time that I could feel the character of Esther deftly creeping into my pores like second-hand smoke. I began to worry incessantly about everything...normal things like my future, my daughter, my farce of a marriage...and not so normal things like the possibility of having an inoperable brain tumor or wondering who would love me if I suddenly got both legs severed during a head-on collision. Hence, the idea of reading The Bell Jar again was a difficult decision regardless of the fact that I'd just bought a backup copy of it. But read it, I did, and although it held my interest, the depressive effects of it seemed to have faded like so many hot water washings. I was able to look upon Esther not as a sister trudging through societal misery but as a daughter grasping for hope.

As I finished it last night, I coincidentally flipped on the TV to find the documentary The Bridge. Although I've not stopped thinking about the movie since I finished it, I have yet to find the words to describe it. Simply put, it is the story of the Golden Gate Bridge, this nation's most popular suicide destination.

• Since it was erected in 1937 the Golden Gate Bridge has assisted in the deaths of over 1,000 people.
• The first, 47-year-old Harold Wobber, plunged to his death a scant three months after its opening.
• It is estimated that there is a jumper roughly every two weeks.
• Chances for surviving the four-second fall from the bridge are slim. Most of the deaths are caused by multiple blunt force injuries from hitting the water at roughly 75 mph.
• Bones snap like twigs and ribs and back bones compressed with such force that they grind internal organs into guacamole.

The difficult thing to take about this movie is that the director caught 19 of the 24 jumps of 2004 on film. And between snippets of the victims pacing back and forth along the bridge's walkway, their families and friends speak of the interminable depression suffered by their loved ones. It is one of the most difficult films I've ever watched, and I warn you that it is not one to be entered into lightly. It will affect you, and like me you may wonder if watching it was really in your best interest. But it might make you wonder if a kind word here and there is really that expensive a gift to give someone poised on the edge of the end.

Namaste

First off...CONGRATULATIONS to Bizzy on her blog print debut! Check out the details here. Thank God people around here are finally recognizing that a) there is this thing called the internet where people do stuff, and b) Bizzy rocks it.

Just returned from another delicious and fun filled dinner with my friends Sue Ellen and Jeremy. It's always so fun visiting with them. It's one of the few places where I can be guaranteed at the very least five belly laughs PLUS a phenomenal meal. Good stuff. Miracle of miracles, I actually took a peanut butter pie over there this time (thanks for the recipe, B!). It did a little triple somersault out of the freezer at its presentation. The dismount was perfect, so it didn't get kicked off the squad...although it did fail the Jerm Cream Cheese/Avocado Taste-o-lator.

As sometimes happens, we digressed into something totally off-base...myspace. First, let me say that I'm a little confused by myspace. Is it a blog or a new age chain letter? It's exhausting linking to this person and then that person and then someone you totally forgot you graduated with. Before you know it, you've spent hours looking through links and learning absolutely nothing except that someone you knew in 1993 has a kid now and is living in another state.

Namaste

I had to submit a quick note to tell you that while volunteering for the River's Edge Film Festival over the weekend, my friend Brad was stunned to come face-to-face with Dorothy Lyman. Some of you clever readers may know her as Naomi from the 80s sitcom, Mama's Family. Ms. Lyman directed an entry in this year's festival called Northern Kingdom. The film is based on a play by Andes, Delhi resident Nancy Sayles Garrett and follows three interconnected families in an agricultural town and their interaction with an injured Iraq-conflict veteran who upon his return befriends a troubled boy who is building a bomb. The play was developed into a screenplay after Lyman saw a staged reading in New York City.

After Brad related the sighting, I kept wondering things like...

"Did she stay at the new Residence Inn or at The Big E (and if so, did she meet Essie)?"

"Did she eat at Di Fratelli's or Doe's or did she just hang out at O'Charley's like Robert Downey, Jr. did during his stay?"

"Did she visit any of the Lowertown galleries or did she just go to JC Penney like Demi Moore?"

I wondered if she went in the Groundfloor (my favorite downtown store) and what she thought about that white dusted angel/statue-guy posed on Broadway on Saturday night. What did she think about the people line dancing in the street to the musical stylings of sweaty country karaoke man? I wondered if she had any clue just how many episodes of Mama's Family everyone around here has seen.

I wish I could have asked her what it was like to work with Vicki Lawrence and Fran Drescher and if the staff at the MAC was friendly to her or knew who she was or gave her a free REFF coffee mug.

Why didn't I volunteer again this year??!!

Namaste

I just had to post the fact that I received an email from my friends Jeremy and Sue Ellen today that while travelling they just happened to run into this baseball legend somewhereabouts Nashville, Tennessee. Personally, I wouldn't have known him from my high school gym teacher, but Jerm is quite the baseball officianado. Or maybe it's just because they know everyone everywhere. No kidding. I don't know how they do it. If you have ever been out with them, you know exactly what I mean. It's like going out with Bizzy and Tom. If you go out to dinner with them, or Sam's Club or the Minit Mart...someone will shout out. It's pure craziness.
Namaste

Pretty Scary Stuff

War Czar' Concerned over Stress of War on Troops

Namaste

Update: Jerry's sink is currently going for $16,100.00. His water spigot is only going for $92.05. Bargain.

What is it about a stamp machine at the USPS that keeps it out of order 90% of the time? Our Coke machine at work is NEVER out of order, although it is out of Diet Coke a lot. Today, I left for work early with no cash when I realized that I needed to mail an envelope (a.k.a. bill). Even though I only needed a dollar to buy the stamp, I drove to the bank machine and had to withdraw $20 since that is the smallest denomination available for withdrawal anymore (?!). As I was driving back toward the post office it dawned on me that I would have to get change for a $20, because the stamp machine only takes $5 and $1. And, BTW, who would want $19 in freaking Sacajawea doubloons if it did take $20? The weight of your purse would equal that of the stamp machine. So I turned around and headed toward Hardee's to buy the breakfast to break the $20 to buy the stamp to mail the bill that I didn't want to pay in the first place. So, after waiting in line for 15 minutes to get the breakfast, I race back toward the USPS, and what to my wondering eyes should appear? A sign reading COINS ONLY.

Namaste

Celebrity Death Matches I'd like to see...

Pat Sajak
vs.
Alex Trebek













(what's up w/this naked Alex picture?)













Tom Sizemore
vs.
Danny Bonaduce
























Emeril Lagasse
vs.
Paula Dean



























Stephen King
vs.
J.K. Rowling


























Bob Hoskins
vs.
Danny Devito

Vern Troyer
vs.
Matt Roloff






















Mayor Paxton
vs.
Judge Newberry






















Circuit City
vs.
Bestbuy












And last but not least...














and














vs.













Namaste!

This is disgusting. As I type there are 37 bids. Highest bidder is $5,000.

Following is a section of the description:

"All items were working when removed and are now sold “as is” with no express or implied warranty of operability or fitness for use or purpose.
To authenticate the fixtures and cabinets, successful bidders will receive a copy of the deeds of sale to Jerry Garcia and from the Garcia Estate along with a signed declaration by the former owner of the house verifying the items were removed from the house. By the sale of these items, no disrespect is intended towards the memory of Jerry [note the use of the familiar "Jerry" here, is if they had some personal association]. This auction and the Sophia Foundation are not affiliated with nor endorsed by either the Jerry Garcia Estate or the Grateful Dead."

No disrespect? It's on eBay.

Shout out to Michael for drawing my attention to this classic display of American capitalism. Which is the greater evil: selling the kitchen sink of Jerry Garcia at auction on eBay or buying the kitchen sink of Jerry Garcia at auction on eBay?

Namaste

Last night I was treated to dinner at the home of friends Jeremy and Sue Ellen. The meal was delicious: veal piccata, grilled vegetables and gnocchi. Sue Ellen tried to teach me the art of making gnocchi, but I'm not sure it really took since I'd finished at least 1/2 bottle of red wine by that time. The more wine, the more conversation, and a question was posed that caused quite a bit of discussion: if a person is sexy, does that generally equate to that person's being a good lover? There was no general concensus. What do you guys think?

After dinner we went out on the deck with the last of our wine and watched the meteor showers. It was a perfect night. The sky was crystal clear. The temperature was just right. We saw several falling stars, but I never wished on one. I am not sure if that means I'm cynical or hopeless.

Namaste

The Tao of Steve

The weekend began innocently enough. Adam, Brad's fraternity brother (left), came in for a long weekend. He was on hiatus from his residency in pediatric oncology in Houston. Brad thought it would be fun to show Adam around downtown Paducah, so several of us met after work on Thursday at Doe's. We spent time sampling the mixological specialties of Paul and Travis and discussing the alcohol content of the various Budweiser products on tap. From there it was on to Ristorante Di Fratelli for dinner. Since I'd already eaten once, I ordered the tuna tare tare (sp?) which was absolutely delicious. It was also at this point that we were schooled on the smoothness of Level vodka by Justin. To drive home his point, he ordered a vodka tonic for Adam who had been playing devil's advocate to Justin's professions of perfection in Level. After dinner the real craziness ensued when we asked the inevitable question: What tour of downtown Paducah would be complete without a visit to the legendary Silver Bullet?

You can't really see into the bar from the street, so we had no idea what we were getting into until it was too late. Karaoke night at The Bullet. A distorted "Hit Me with Your Best Shot" blared as we entered to blank, drunken stares. We strolled as nonchalantly as possible to the very back of the bar and sidled up at the end right beside (marvel of marvels) an ATM machine. The bartender was very welcoming and attentive, but the same could not be said for the clientele. Their suspicious looks were unsettling and progressed to a state of alarm when I decided that I simply could not let the opportunity to document our presence go by. The idea was to get a shot of several of us sitting at the bar with the karaoke madness in the background. But when the flash went off, things took a turn for the worse. Immediately, this man...

...turned toward me with a sinister stare and began pointing and shaking his head mouthing the word "no." I ducked behind Michael and carefully placed my camera back in my purse. "Holy smokes, that guy is MAD!" He then proceeded to carefully ease off his bar stool and move toward us.

"Don't you take my picture no more. You hear me?"

Adam spoke up, "She wasn't taking a picture of you. She was taking a picture of her friends sitting here at the bar."

The man didn't turn but continued to glare intently at me. "You hear me? Don't you take my picture no more."

Seeing that I was clearly terrified, Adam then tried to divert the conversation and reiterated, "She wasn't trying to take your picture. She was taking a picture of her friends here." As if in slow motion, the man turned toward Adam. "What's your name?"

Adam replied, "Steve. What's your name?"

The man stood speechless for a couple of seconds. "That's MY name!" And then it was on. A potential barroom brawl averted and a new lifelong (or maybe hour-long) friendship was born. Steve never did stop telling me not to take his picture and oddly enough began calling me Gwen.

The bar got happier and people began Texas two-stepping up the aisle behind us. The lady in the foreground above asked Brad to dance, but when Brad pointed to Adam and said that he would be a better candidate, she huffed and went to the end of the bar to sit and stare at us. When she got over it in about 15 minutes, she came up to Adam and asked him why he was wearing a shirt. (!)

When we couldn't decide on a song to sing for karaoke, we decided to give Steve and the rest of our new friends a break and move on to Jeremiah's. It was at that point I decided that the Steve Incident had worn me out and I needed to head back to the house.

Before I left, Adam threw down the gauntlet. "I vow to visit any bar seedier than The Silver Bullet at any point during my stay. If you can think of one, I will go." Seedier than the Bullet? I am still studying on that one.

Namaste

Anna vs. Barry

After work today I spent some time with my friends Ed, Adam and Doogs. (I can't really count the other guy Mike since this was our first actual hang out session.) Every time I see them, I always think about how much I miss them. It's hard to come across people who are who they say they are. They are them. It's so refreshing to be able to listen and laugh and interact and not have to worry about whether or not they "get" you. If they don't, they let you know. They ask questions. They trust. They believe that you are also who you say you are. (Wouldn't it be wonderful it the whole world was that way?) We spent time talking about everything from interpersonal dynamics to politics. While covering this plethora of subjects, I posed the following to the lone Catholic in the group: "When I was growing up, I always thought that Catholics, by and large, were Democrats. Is that true?" This sparked some in-depth discussion, and I came away still not knowing for sure. Mr. Catholic asserted that there was a shift in the Catholic political affiliations during the Reagan administration and that the Catholic vote has been much more diverse since that time. I had assumed that the split was due to Roe vs. Wade. I wondered what the Pope would say. The only general agreement throughout the entire conversation was that gee dubya is a total dumb a$$.

Another thing that raised the decibel level slightly tonight was the Barry Bondsimonium. Mr. Negative said he was sick to death of the Slam Watch and that he would have thrown pitches in the dirt in front of home plate before allowing yet another HR for BB. I thought the whole thing was pretty amazing and claimed that I would have lobbed a meatball right down the middle just to see him hit the big one. Mr. Cynical said that he just wished Anna Nicole was still around.

Namaste

Short post.

Just finished As Simple as Snow by Gregory Galloway. Interesting stuff. Difficult to get into initially, but the writing seemed to get richer as the plot thickened. Lots of puzzles and obscure references. Don't read it if you like your books tied up in a neat little bow at the end. It ends on a minor note leaving you wanting more but with enough for a little introspection.


It reminded me of how much I need to buy some Nick Drake.

Namaste

Congratulations to Allison and Ian on the birth of their new baby boy, Isaac. I love this picture of Justin holding him.

From what I can gather, all is well with Allison. It's crazy how you can just sorta schedule a baby these days. The whole time she was pregnant, Allison knew her due date. "Area" doctors have come a long way. In the days of Fred and Barney when my kids were born, health care professionals had to consult the I Ching and Magic 8 Ball before venturing a guess as to the birth date of a child. In addition, there were labor rooms and then there were delivery rooms. There was absolutely NO mixing of the two. And no one, NO ONE was allowed in delivery aside from the doctor, five nurses, seven surgical techs, three residency students and the father. What if someone other than a health care professional breathed on the baby? There are health standards to think about, you know.

All that said, I have to send out a big hug to Allison. She has been a real trooper through this whole thing and even worked up until practically the last possible moment. (The girl is tough, I'm telling you.) Congratulations. He's adorable.

I know you're wondering, so I will go ahead and tell you: I am reading As Simple As Snow by Gregory Galloway right now. So far, it's pretty interesting. I will keep you posted.

There's some kind of wild rumor that a trip to Current River is in the making a couple of weeks from now. I have never been, but they tell me it is the ultimate redneck adventure. Current River Officianados even say there are things called "cooler tubes" that you can rent just for your beer! Could an outdoor adventure be more convenient?

Namaste

Pining for a Tropical Infusion

Whew! Just finished a whirlwind tour of the east end of KY Oaks Mall and properties within close proximity. I have never been so exhausted in my life. I had forgotten how many things one has to tote when a baby is involved. Purses, diaper bags, strollers. It's a workout just getting in and out of the car. We shopped at JC Penney for a little while then The Children's Place, and then on to Elder Beerman in desperate search of Michael Kors Hawaii. I just bought this alluring "new" cologne this spring, and already it's off the shelves...permanently from what I can gather. I am incredibly loyal to my colognes, so to bring a new one in to sit beside Lauren is rare. Now, when I realize how in love I am with Michael Kors, it's too late. Story of my life.

This weekend actually began on Thursday when I found out that my friend Brad had passed his CISA exam. (Hooray for Brad!!) Straight away that night we met at Max's with Justin and The Gang to celebrate. It was somewhat of a low key gathering replete with imports, brie and giggling in the garden. The fact that Justin is a VIP by the bartender's own admission meant that the rest of us were ad hoc VIPs that night, as well. It was a fun night while it lasted, but I had to run my tab early and get to bed. As you all know, good times past 9 p.m. can send my sensitive sleep patterns into disarray for weeks.

On Friday night I was treated to dinner by my friends Sue Ellen and Jeremy. Jeremy grilled the most delicious 2 1/2 inch thick pork chops. I marveled for some time afterward at how he'd gotten them adequately cooked without drying them out...always my downfall. It was nice to get to visit with them. Although I'd seen them a few times over the past several weeks, the opportunity to sit and talk just hadn't been there. You know how that goes.

Now it's almost 6 p.m. on Saturday, and I'm whining about where to go and what to do...always the same, tired routine. If only I had my Michael Kors Hawaii cologne. Then at least I'd feel tropically enhanced while doing the same old same old...nothing.

Namaste

Forgive me, dear readers, for I have sinned. I have not posted in weeks...primarily due to the fact that I've become obsessed with goodreads.com and, hence, can't stop reading even long enough to type these few short words.

I just this evening finished the Jennifer Belle book "Little Stalker." I got there, innocently enough, by way of "Going Down." I liked her style of writing, so when I noticed that "Little Stalker" was a thinly veiled story of the author's obssession with Woody Allen, I knew I had to run out and get it THIS MINUTE. I even went so far as to call Borders (with my timely 20% off e-coupon) and reserve the one copy in the store. Trouble is, I was just coming off the Friends of the Library Manna From Heaven Super Sale with a lingering case of yard-sale-itis and experienced severe sticker shock at the $21 total (this included my 20% off e-coupon!) price for Jennifer Belle's newest novel. Just this past weekend I'd hauled away upwards of 14 books for a total sale price of around $7. [SEVEN DOLLARS!] And two days later I'm shelling out $21 (inc. the coupon!) for a book whose cover was amateurish and a little spooky (but, I guess that was the point). I was much too embarrassed to ask for the book by name from the husky Borders bookman. I mean, think about it. I'd RESERVED it. Such a dope.

So the book itself was pretty good, and I couldn't help but feel a kinship with the main character. I myself have defended Woody Allen on many an occasion, regardless of his quasi-incestuous marriage and marginally good recent movies (except for Match Point, of course). "You just can't argue genius," I'd say. My personal life is a shambles most of the time, too. Who am I to judge?

Other than that, I read "The Secret Life of Bees" over the weekend. I'm pretty sure that I'm the last woman in the contiguous 50 to read that one. I couldn't really relate to any of the characters although they all seemed charming and wonderful from far away.

You see what happens to me? I get stuck in a groove and can't seem to scratch my way out. Don't get me wrong, there are worse things to be compulsive about than reading. It's just that while I'm in this psychological holding pattern, I kinda let a lot of other things like maybe laundry or vacuuming fall by the wayside.

A strange thing happened to me today while at a work function. A lady came up to me and said she'd seen me on Bizzyville. We had a really nice conversation about the Greatness of Bizzy, about her hilarious writing style and super cool personal style. It was an odd feeling though to be recognized and I wondered if that was how Kathy Griffin's personal assistant Jessica felt when people recognized her from the show. Of course, there's a big difference in being recognized in New York City and being recognized in Paducah, but maybe not that big a difference if you consider the statistics per capita. It's possible...don't you think? ...Possibly?

Namaste