Cripes, Suzette!

I Love Vintage Glassware. Who's With Me Here?

This is an update to the post about searching for a martini glass that suits my personality better than a plain long stemmed V.

Alert the media - a decision has been made and a purchase completed. I'm going to show it to you, but I want you to take a deep breath - maybe get up and walk away for a bit - before you pass judgment. Because it's ... sort of non-traditional.Also, there was only one available so I didn't have the opportunity to buy multiple multiples, which I totally would have even though I only needed one.

Let me describe it to you first:

• it's glass, not crystal
• it's molded, not blown or cut
• the design is fussy, not simple
• it's colorful, not clear
• it's not even a cocktail glass
• or a wine glass
• or a sherry glass

I couldn't help it - it was just like when MIchael Corleone was hit with the thunderbolt when he saw Appolonia. He just knew it was right. And that's how it was with me and the glass. And it does have the most important characteristics that I was after:

• it's short
• it holds a small volume
• it's vintage

Can you picture it?

Ready?

Ok. Here it is:

Ta-da!

Isn't it swell?

It's an Indiana Glass Kings Clear Crown Blue Flash Sherbet Dish, a rare color, so I'm told. Looks like a good match for a bottle of Bombay Sapphire, doesn't it? The size is 3 1/8" tall x 3 5/8" wide. The eBay auction didn't list the volume, but I'm guessing from the dimensions and the bowl-to-base ratio that it's 5-ish ounces.

It was love at first sight.

Too Bad I Can't See Your Comments So I'll Never Know Your Advice

Let's say that you were me. That would mean that you:

• are more about the accouterments than about the thing itself.
• confess to being a big fan of all things retro
• are a leetle bit of a snobby elitist whenever you could afford it
• derive satisfaction from things that nobody else knows or cares about.

Then let's say that you were all worked up over the stupid and awkward giant V-shaped 11 oz. martini glasses that pollute the landscape everywhere you go. You couldn't control that, but you sure could do something the barware that you bring into your own home.

This has been my progression, friends:

• enormous handpainted V-shaped martini glasses with 5" stems.

Lovely to look at, delightfully whimsical but the curse of the big-boobed woman is that you have to sit straight up like you were wearing a back brace, otherwise the base bumps into your boobage and you can't get your lips to the rim of the glass without dumping it all over yourself.

• cheap set of 4 10 oz. plain V glasses with 4" stem

nice basic set on sale at Bed Bath and Beyond.  for a ridiculous $11.99. Came with a Boston-style shaker that you could never get the hang of. Fail! Also, not good because of the slow realization that your drink was warm by the time you got to the bottom of it.

• cheaper set of 8 oz plain V glasses with 3" stems

Mr.Sami, always on the hunt for a bargain no matter what it is, spotted this set on top of the freezer section in the supermarket. 4 glasses and small metal shaker for - get this: $4.00. The glasses are smaller, shorter made of thinner glass - all satisfactory. The shaker top goes over the bottom instead of tucking into the bottom and I have never yet made a drink in it that didn't blow up on me. I need to be served by either of two somewhat recalcitrant family members who seem to be able to manage it.

So now I'm thinking that the next logical steps is some saucer-shaped, small bowl cocktail glasses. You take your average B&W movie from the 40's and you don't see any V-shaped monstrosities there. No you see 4 0z glasses in a bell or saucer shape. In fact, in my obsessive internet reading of all things Mad Men, I came across an interview with one of the set designers who said that the three-martini business lunch was absolutely accurate, but the martinis were much, much smaller then. Three sips and you were ready for a refill. Compare that to today's standard 11 oz of gin or vodka per pop. No one could do business after three of those.

So that takes us directly to eBay. Now, assuming that you are still me, which of the following selections shall we bid on?:

• Tulip-shaped saucers

Nice! Shortish stems, simple design. thin and elegant bowls. Famous vintage glassware pattern called "Candlewick". 5" tall; 4" across flared bowl. Starting bid $14.99 for 4.

• Fostoria Champagne coupes

Another well-known name in vintage glassware. Fancy, bordering on ornate. Well, all the way to ornate I guess. Product of Ohio. 5 1/2" tall; 3 1/4" across bowl.  Starting bid $9.99 for 4.

• Anchor Hocking "Boopie" Sherbet glasses

Superbonus points for shortness!  The 2 glass sets above were fine crystal, this one is thick glass. Common and cheap. You can usually find sets of 8 or 12 for 3 bucks on eBay. I love this stuff and I can totally see myself sipping daintily from these. Disclosure: My family had six 5 oz footed juice glasses like these that we used once a year to drink wine at Christmas dinner. Let's all cry now. 4" tall; 5 oz. High starting bid of $6.99 for 6.

• Etched crystal bells, 3 1/2" tall

Elegant, fancy and fine. Unnamed pattern,  they have the highly desirable shortness. Starting bid $16.00

•  new Riedel Tyrol martini glasses

Drool! Short, tissue thin crystal and so clean and simple it just about breaks your heart. 3" tall; holds 6 oz, 2 for $29.00

• new Olive-stemmed martini glasses

Yes, they're V-shaped, BUT they're short and they have translucent glass olives in the stems. 6 oz. $25.00 for 4

So, now that we're saying that you're me, which of these should we get?

Bonus history lesson: Another reason to repudiate Jimmy Carter:

Some specifically ascribe the demise of the three-martini lunch to Jimmy Carter, who condemned the practice during the 1976 presidential campaign. Carter portrayed it as part of the unfairness in the nation's tax laws, claiming that the working class was subsidizing the "$50 martini lunch." ...  His opponent, incumbent President Gerald R Ford, responded with: "The three-martini lunch is the epitome of American efficiency. Where else can you get an earful, a bellyful and a snootful at the same time?"

Breathing Fresh Air - I Recommend It

Your faithful reporter is tired, very tired. AND my hand is all screwed up from clutching the mouse for 14 hours a day. This work business is really very burdensome. Some days, I don't even get outside at all. Last night, at about 7pm , I made it a point to go outside on the deck to enjoy what was left of the evening.

actual backyard of Suzette

Remind me to go outside as much as possible until the weather turns. I'm not one much for direct sunlight in the middle of the day but I do like a good twilight. The impending change of seasons makes enjoying the sunsets at this time of year all the more precious and I made appointments for myself to see as many as possible. If that doesn't work, I'm going to activate a pop-up reminder in my Outlook calendar. What is technology for, if not to serve us?

Imminent Threat To My Negativity

AT 6:55 pm I pulled over to the shoulder to thumb up a Blackberry response to get myself on the record for just one more urgent email. At 7:02 pm, I looked up to see a jackbooted state trooper exit the patrol car parked  behind me and walk in my direction.

I was in high dudgeon and all full of myself, plugged up with the headset and whatnot, so as he came closer I rolled down my window, waved the BBerry at him and started shouting "OH GAWD. DON"T TELL ME THAT YOU'RE GOING TO GIVE ME A TICKET FOR TRYING TO HANG ONTO MY JOB." Which made him laugh and walk away.

So I might have to rescind my previously firm stance of  NJ State Troopers= my sworn enemy/heartless oppressor. He let me go  even though I did kind of drop it into gear and tear away as fast as mechanically possible, all the while mumbling and gesticulating. Like a crazy person. Which might explain why he backed off.

No definite conclusions about this  right now - I have to process this overnight. Anyway, I'm as free as a bird now. Score 1 for the crazy people.

Everyone Will Ask You What You're Wearing

Act surprised: I spend a lot of time crawling through the listings at eBay.

I rarely buy, I just look. The reason I do it is to recapture my past or to capture a past I think I should have had. Today I took the plunge and bought a vintage headscarf adorned with white horse heads and inscribed "Spanische Holfreirschule Wein" (the Spanish Riding School in Vienna). Behold:

I had to buy this because:

• I am very partial to this shade of green paired with dark blue
• I look very good in green
• women's vintage accessories put me into a trance
• this one was only $9.99 with free shipping
• I can't afford a Hermès scarf
• Once long ago, I bought a similar scarf in Vienna for someone and I didn't buy one for myself and this is what I mean by recapturing the past and $9.99 is cheaper than hypnotic regression.

It might not be your cup of tea, but picture me in a winter white coat with this tucked into the collar. Now do you see?

Now if I could be sure that what I was getting was real perfume and not some phony pisswater substitute, I'd be bidding on some Infini perfume. That perfume was my first purchase with my first paycheck from my first real job. I used it sparingly and owned that infinity-shaped crystal bottle for many years until it met a sad end at the hands of some toddler mixmasters who found their way into my bedroom.

They were girl toddlers, now that I think of it, so I guess it was most likely a privative gender imperative impulse for them to reach out for all those lovely little  bottles. One of them is in the room next door to me right now (all grown up). Perhaps I should go mess up some of her stuff. Circle of life!

1975 print ad for Infini perfume

Look at that ad. Do you doubt that this perfume could confer a devastating sophistication on your 21-year-old, just moved to  NYC, country bumpkin head?

"That Is A Dilutional Construct"

The title of this post has nothing to do with the content except for the root word dilute.  Somebody said that to me in an argument once and I never gotten over it to this day.

I'm sitting here sipping on a tall cool Alba Chocolate Dairy Shake. Which if you know me at all you know means that I am on a diet. This is what I want to tell you:

Never in a million years would I ever use more water than called for when making Jello, reconstituing soup -either dry or canned - or making broth.  I wouldn't even add water to a marinara sauce jar or ketchup bottle to get the last bits out. Dilutional! But when it comes to powdered drink mixes, I never stop at the recommended amount.

For instance, the directions on this drink mix say to start with 1/2 cup cold water. I used about 12 oz. Then I added ice cubes. It's the same story with Crystal Light and KoolAid. I do respect the Country Time Lemonade mix:water ratio, though. With ice tea mix, I could go either way according to who will be drinking it - if it's for someone else, I make it properly. If it's for me, I dilute.

I feel better now that I've gotten this off of my chest.

Oh Honey, I've Been Waiting My Whole Life

A short article on Neat-o-rama today listed some misspelled search terms including one for "swan flu". One assumes that is a typo and the searcher was really looking for swine flu references.

But what if it wasn't a mistake? Is there such a  thing as the swan flu? Because if there is, I want to be contaminated.  All of my life, I've been waiting for Act II of the Ugly Duckling Show and if it turns out that all I needed to do was to get infected, then sign me up.

I'm ready to be transformed. although with my luck, I'd probably end up something like this.

Ok, for realz. Rudy. He was hawt.

 

Sidenote: I recall a magazine feature a year or so after Rudy died. It was a detailed photo layout of his apartment at the Dakota, in advance of the Christie's auction that would see everything off. Red everywhere. Walls, ceilings, velvet drapes, plush sofas. Dark red. I can only find online pictures of his Paris apartment. Quell domage.

You Know You're Agoraphobic If ...

People who know me have implied - and this wasn't all that long ago - that I might be borderline agoraphobic. I reject that. Maybe I just don't want to go out.

• If you're in a place that has no K Mart and an inconveniently located Target, and Wal-Mart is your only choice for white cereal bowl shopping, then maybe that's depression.
• What if you'd rather stretch out on an air mattress to watch Judge Judy  instead of going out to the supermarket to take advantage of the 5 for $10 Marie Callender frozen meal special, is that agoraphobia or is that merely having options?
• What would you rather do - sneak a midday catnap or try to hunt down a Dollar Tree to see if they have the same plastic mixing bowls on the west coast as they have on the east coast?

I posit that none of these situations are indicators of agoraphobia but rather they are choices and not difficult ones, either. Who's with me on this?

Blue Jello Green Grapes

I.  Am.  Very.  Busy.  but never so busy that I don't have time to make jello for my son. This is the only thing left in his refrigerator after I threw out the old onion and the empty pizza boxes.

Major News Story of the Day

World Famous Humor Blogger and Bosom Icon Suzette™ paid a surprise visit to the Woman Within website today.

Unnamed sources close to Suzette say that preparations have been have been kept tightly under wraps for a number of days but it was not until the semi-annual bra sale had been officially announced that the story was able to be confirmed.

Records of purchase indicate that Suzette selected two bras of the same size but different styles. Further investigation reveals that one garment was soft pink and the other was french lilac. If true, this is a major departure for Suzette who is well-known for her conservative leanings in lingerie color selection, most often choosing the white or beige option.

Suzette is expected to get up to 70% off her order.

Day of Rest

Even the wicked get weary and so I'm taking a day off from scrutinizing World Famous Fashion Icon and Busy Mom Michelle Obama™. Don't be disappointed. I plan on making it up to you by sharing some things about myself that you might not be aware of.

Because you don't know me at all. You might think you know me, especially if you're a long time reader who can recite my favorite stories along with me whenever I repeat them. But you don't know everything there is to know. I'll start you off slowly because I don't want you all to faint when the truth comes out.

1. On Bagel Day at work, I use a plastic spoon to scoop up the falloffs (sesame seeds, poppy seeds, onion bits, salt, etc) from the bottom of the bagel bag and stick it to the cream cheese on my plain bagel to create a very deluxe morning snack. In this way, I am a food trend setter - a leader by example.

2. I have 4 plastic containers from Hot & Sour soup in my refrigerator right now and they each house half of a yellow onion. I am responsible for placing only one of them there , but I cannot shake the feeling that I am expected to be responsible for getting rid of them all.

3. After declaring that I reached my lifetime max for eating shrimp, I have taken it up again. There are stipulations, though. I will only eat them in my own home and only if they have been marinated in bottled Italian dressing, placed on skewers and barbecued.

4. Two thirds of my clothing should be thrown out because I don't wear the stuff anymore. Half of what remains should be thrown out because it's stained, washed out or  has a hole in it.

5. I'm clean but I'm not a clean freak. Just a regular freak.

6. I don't mind scrubbing a dog's butt whenever the need arises. I don't go looking for trouble, though. I only do it if it becomes obvious that no one else will. Which is always.

7. As a teenager, I had my tealeaves read for $2 and the woman told me that 7 is my lucky number. It hasn't been particularly lucky or unlucky so far, but I still give it every chance to prove itself to me. 

Suzette's Body Parts

A partial list:

Hair: longish, varying shades of blonde, hot but not in a good way. My bangs are starting to interfere with blinking.

Neck: stiff, occasionally emits noises of the snap crackle pop category.

Left shoulder: sore. Possible aftermath of trying onto fit myself on the loveseat for a nap by my jamming shoulder up against the armrest.

Abdomen: mosquito bite in the belly button area.

Knees: seen better days.

Arches: very sore from stepping on shovel to dig up pesky wild strawberry vine invaders in my side flower bed.

Toenails: naked like God meant them to be. Not that I'm down with this particular heavenly message - I just  forgot where I put the Misty Mauve Express Finish 60 Second Nail Color.

Click Image To Enlarge

   

Lamb for Easter

It remains to be seen if there will be a butter lamb here tomorrow or not. I can guarantee , however, that there definately will be a Lamb Cake.

Somehow, I find myself in alien territory for the big holidays. My go-to vision for any of the biggie dinners starts with a base of kielbasi, potato salad, cole slaw and baked beans. For Thanksgiving, add one turkey. For Easter, add one ham. For Xmas, make twice as much kielbasi. But a holiday meal where it's only The Hub and the daughter does not include any of this. Where did they come from? I know that Sami is stuck on the foods of his childhood and in general is a late adopter of anything that was not available in Egypt before 1969, so that's perfectly understandable. But her - she's got my kieibasi-craving blood coursing through her veins. It's a heartbreak.

So over time, our traditional Easter meal has evolved into a pan of stuffed shells, a salad and some garlic bread. For dessert, some  Easter bread and a 3-D lamb cake. My daughter makes a red velvet cake to make it appears really slaughtered when you cut into it. The effect is somewhat tempered by the fact that we own a cartoonish semi-vintage lamb cake pan instead of the more desirable realistic very vintage lamb cake pan.

 

undesirable, but ours                                          desirable, but elusive

The cake we make looks more like a little poodle sitting on the table than a lamb. Perhaps there will be pictures of the actual cake later.

Bitch Mode

Bravo TV had a sneak peak of The Real Housewives of New Jersey last night. View full episode here.

Lucky for you that you know me because I believe that I can enhance your reality tv watching experience by comparing this show with what life is like for real NJ housewives. The preview was only 30 minutes long but there's way to much to sort through for a recap.I strongly suggest that you go to the Bravo TV website and look at the full episode until recaps start appearing on the internet, but until then, I will say this:

Reality TV -

• What they got wrong:  signage of the turnpike is shown during the scene bumpers instead of the Parkway. I am outraged. Lots of states have turnpikes but the Garden State Parkway is strictly Jersey. That reveals a strong NYC influence -straight out of the Lincoln Tunnel - over the production. THESE ARE THE SAME PEOPLE WHO COME HERE TO PICK OUR PUMPKINS. That's all I'm saying.
  
• What they got right: everything else. These are the people I have to compete with for parking spaces. If you want to survive in a state with people like these, you must learn to avoid eye contact and pretend that either they aren't there or you aren't there.

Reality -

Near the end of her workday, real NJ housewife Suzette called her husband to meet her for dinner. While headed to Applebee's for  2 for $20 dinner package, she suddenly remembered that a cab driver told her about a local diner where the food is good, plentiful and cheap. Suzette's husband Sami enjoyed a gyro platter but Suzette could have done better than the meatloaf dinner. In true Jersey style, they took up 2 of the 8 most convenient parking spaces.

Later that evening, a Corelle plate that was mistakenly placed on a warmish stove burner shattered into bits so the whole family pulled together to engage in shard patrol. Worn out from walking back and forth in the kitchen, Suzette went upstairs, put on yesterday's nightgown and settled in to watch some TV.

Project Weight Loss: It's On

subtitled:

YOU DON'T REALLY WANT TO SWEAT THROUGH ANOTHER SUMMER,

DO YOU?

My two most successful weight-loss experiences were with Weight Watchers and Somersizing. I can't bear any more tracking activities than I have in  my life right now, so Weight Watchers is out and Somersizing it is.  For those of you who might not know, Somersizing is a low-carb thing, more South Beachy than Atkinsy.

And so I present to you - but mostly to me - a list of things that you can put tuna salad on instead of bread:

• a thick tomato slice
• a lettuce leaf
• a cucumber round
• a celery stalk

That's it. I'm out of ideas on Day 1.

UPDATE #1 -  One more idea: both cheese and olives are allowed in the Somersize food plan. Now how ever can I work bleu cheese-stuffed olives into my day?

UPDATE #2 - Just came into possession of some wedgie-free underpants. I'm going to be some force to contend with this summer, what with the absence of wedgie and the tuna breath and all.

This is what it's like to be me.

And I'm not complaining.

I'm bragging.

Gaze Along With Me As I Ponder My Navel

It's been one year and one week between updates on my ABOUT page. We're all probably better off because of that.

No Palm Trees For You, Suzette

I have a ticket for a 1:00pm  flight to California today. Imagine my surprise when I came home from a hastily rescheduled Martini Club meeting last night to find a message that my meeting was changed and that I would not be going after all. It's ok because there are many benefits to staying in New Jersey in February:

• you don't have to paint your toenails if your feet are in snow boots
• no need for blusher due to naturally rosy cheeks induced by hometown temperature of 14º
• highly entertaining  "vision challenge" of driving down the Parkway while sun glares off of white snow
• wearing a faux fur hat eliminates need to style or otherwise attend to hairdo
• reduced likelihood of having to show my underwire bra to TSA agents when attempting to board my own car
• Bill Gates released his malaria mosquitoes in CA, not NJ

I'm sure there are many more upsides to the cancellation of this trip. I'll have the next 10 days to experience them.

At First, I Thought They Were Talking About Chuck Schumer

I like to keep the TV on in the background during my early morning scan of the internet but ever since I broke away from the morning shows on cable TV, I've been hard pressed to find a substitute. Sometimes I go to reruns of sitcoms that I never watched in the first place (Becker, Wings) or would watch if I had some other reasonable option. The History Channel is hit or miss - too much Nazi; not enough Robber Barons.I'd watch local news, but around here "Local" means New York or Philadelphia.

But I lucked out this week. I had Channel 11 morning news on when that Staten Island groundhog bit Mayor Bloomberg. to which I say good. he deserved it. He was reaching into the groundhog house and trying to yank out an animal who was happily hibernating. "They were definitely wrestling there for awhile," Schwartz [the groundhog handler] said. "They definitely looked like they were involved in a tussle."

That is what happens when you have amateurs trying to encroach on some body else's tradition. When you think of groundhog day, do you think of Staten Island chuck or Punxsutawney Phil? Right.

Read This Post To Find Out How Freddie Mercury and I Are Very Much Alike

Me: Yesterday, I packed away 12 Corelle coffee cups and saucers, 7 milk glass tumblers, an Art Deco sugar bowl and creamer and a cup and saucer purchased from a NJ diner. I sent the box down to the basement to sit alongside my sets of Stangl, the Modern Orchid movie dishes, assorted jade glass pieces. flea market finds and hammered aluminum serve ware. Then I threw away 4 coffee mugs. I'm not ready to make any admissions quite yet, but I am starting to grapple with the question of just how many sets of dishes a person needs over a lifetime.

* Freddie: He was a collector of sets of dinnerware and used different sets for different occasions and different groups of dinner guests.

Me: One of my favorite movies is the 1959 version of  "Imitation of Life". In fact, it was the first movie I owned on DVD.

* Freddie: He loved that movie too and would rewind his VCR over and over to replay the final scene where Sarah Jane throws herself on her dead mother's  coffin, screaming in grief and regret.

*source: Freddie Mercury by Peter Freestone

The People on the Edge of the Night

I was one of those people who could bore you to death with my various downloaded cellphone rings about 8 or 9 years ago. How many times did I follow people around, waving that little Motorola in the air , so that they could get the full benefit of  hearing the theme music from Hawaii 5-0 in its monophonic entirety? Ah, good times.

Then I went into a period of austerity where I had only a ring-ring alert and then went even further into my ringtone snobbery by not even bothering to change the Hello Moto alert that came pre-programmed  with the phone I was using at the time.

But then I became a slave to the almighty Crackberry with its giant-sized memory chip and its intuitive programming and now I have my own files downloaded and used as ringtones, personalized for all of my regular callers and I don't even care who thinks what about it all. I'm like one of those Red Hat ladies! I don't care!

I only mention this now because I am about to orbit a little closer to the blistering core of the corporate sun and I need a few new ringtones for when the overlords summon me. I've got this all ready to go:

Entirely appropriate because my conversations with this group so far have been me more or less replying to some laser-sharp questions with my own rendition of um bu bu bum da de.

Everything I Know About Little House On the Prairie I Learned From Michael Landon

There are deficiencies and lackings about me that you may never find out about in the course of our relationship. Sometimes it weighs on me until I can't get away from my own thoughts.

I am compelled to tell you that I have never read a single word written by Laura Ingalls Wilder. 

What a loser, right? I know.

I have read Anne of Green Gables, but it wasn't my idea. After reading The Grapes of Wrath for the first time, I was so depressed that I shuffled like a zombie up to the elementary school bus stop with my kids and another mother understood and prescribed an immediate application of a sunshine book to wipe away the gloom. It worked and then I went back to my own literary and pop culture selections.

For instance, right now, I'm reading Dino - High Living In the Dirty Business of Dreams. Who could not be interested in a thing like this? Any review that indicates that you will be reading things like "wallowed in the excesses of Hollywood and the Rat Pack" and "booze-and-pill-addled haze" makes it practically irresistible to me. And we didn't even get to the mafia connections yet. Or the totally ordinary Italian-American  patriarch.

Points of interest:

1. dial phone
2. overstuffed cushion
3. six pack abs
4. insulated tumbler with grasscloth-patterned insert

Points of interest:

1. underwear
2. wallpaper
3. dirty air vent
4. crooked pinky

In Which I Wake Up Hungry

a. Bagels:

• it's better to have no bagel at all than to suffer through a cinnamon-raisin bagel.
• everything bagels: too much or not enough?
• salt bagels - threat to the pretzel or friend to man?
• Barry Manilow once had a beagle named Bagel.

b. Cream Cheese:

• neither cream nor cheese
• still better than head cheese

c. Orange Juice:

• pulp or pulp-free?
• All juice and juice box products have only nut-free ingredients
• are they kidding me or what?

One of the great vintage treasures that I brought back from the old house in PA is the red plastic carton holder. It was fine for about 8 weeks and then someone in the American Orange Juice cartel got the sinister notion to reduce the size of the package, rendering my carton holder obsolete. And I'm supposed to act like nothing's wrong with that?

POLL ish

To my deep regret, I have not yet been polled. Time is running out, pollsters - do I have to email you my phone number AGAIN? If I don't hear from these jokers soon, I'm going to be out of practice when the time does come. Just to keep in shape, I'm going to attach myself to a poll right now.

 

Now I don't advocate sleeping in those clothes so that you have one continuous 36-hour stretch in the same clothes. No, sleeping in your clothes is a fast and easy way to get sick. There has to be a definite break between today and yesterday when it comes to re-wear.

 I'm fairly comfortable with doing the deed while walking the dog in the morning despite the risk of being spotted by someone who saw me yesterday. In this case, I use the same technique that guilty parties use to fool the polygraph -you have to believe the lie in order to avoid detection. And so if I should see a neighbor backing her car out of the driveway, I casually wave and walk on just as if I am wearing my OTHER black t-shirt.

As far as working-from-home wear goes, why wouldn't you wear yesterday's clothes? The danger here is that more often than not, you look up and its 5pm and you still haven't showered. Possibly 6:30pm. And thus that line draws nearer.

Twit

This is the most fascinating thing I ever saw on Twitter:

"This woman comes to my table; "May I?" - she takes
my USB stick and tries to light her cigarette with it."

I found it while randomly searching a name. The author lives in Munich and appears to have given Twitter a month to catch her fancy, which it did not so she gave it up and I totally understand that.

I was a late adopter of Twitter and I never really got into it - considered it a burden, in fact. Some people have a talent for using it to post interesting tidbits, but it ends there after each one, doesn't it? How about the folks who use it to announce their latest blog post? (file under * yawn *). It's not that I don't admire those who can make good use of the conventional format, it's just that I am not that into it.

All is not lost, though. Currently, my main circle of Twitter followers is filled almost exclusively with people pretending to be characters from Mad Men and I am highly entertained by that. I also have another page where I make entries in the voice of my dog. I know!  Who would have thought that dog food and dog poop would be so amusing? But it is - it's actually quite a compelling narrative.

Neither one of these was my idea - wittier folks than I conceived the notions - but I am along wholeheartedly for both rides. If you see lapses in blog posting here, it's because I have become alarmed at Betty Draper's state of mind or I'm trying to convey what it's like to push a pinecone around with your nose in 140 characters.

In Which I Am the Unsuspecting Human

I have poison ivy again. This is the third time this summer, although I'm not sure if you can really count the second episode.

I deserved the first case because I knew that pulling weeds barehanded in the overgrown shrubbery patch near the creek was a risky business. Even though I would swear to you that I carefully observed every green stem before I touched it, my blistered up arms were the testimony that something went wrong with my safety plan.

Also, waterless handcleaner failed to protect me. Follow along as I explain my home-grown junk science/folklore protection strategy: I remember hearing somewhere that if you make contact with poison ivy, you should immediately pour rubbing alcohol onto the area and that would prevent an outbreak. Combine that hazy, unverified memory with the advent of waterless handcleaners, which are 62% alcohol and you can start to  lose your fear of the vine. In theory, liberal application of Purell from the handy container  that I keep near the picnic table for post-puppy petting hygiene should have saved me then, wouldn't you think? That was my conclusion and I still think the logic is sound. I'm going to write to Heloise and share that with her.

I believe that the second outbreak was stress-induced. Can that really happen? I used to break out into hives when work deadlines loomed so is it not possible that deadline pressure could prompt a re-emergence of "the ivory", as Sami calls it. That episode was milder and confined to my forearms.

This third time is the worst of all. On one of those sticky humid New Jersey days last week,   I took  a shower in the early afternoon and then just stayed in a nightgown (see: Working From  Home - What The Lady Execs Are Wearing). The coolness of the evening air on the deck later on was too good to give up, so it was  me and the dog and the mosquitoes watching the planes fly low and the bats come out. When I discovered a cluster of itchy red bumps on my abdomen, I naturally assumed that a mosquito got up into my nightgown and had a little picnic.

But as the bumps spread and configured themselves into the distinctive stripes and flat leathery patches that are so familiar to me, I can only come to one conclusion: it's "the ivory" and it came come riding in on a soft and smelly canine vector of transmission.

Ask The Doctor: "The more common scenario is the transmission of urushiol from a pet to a human. Because dogs and cats easily pick up the resin on their fur and do not get a rash, unsuspecting humans may get a significant rash from contact with their pets."

Ask The Dog:  Did you do that?

Saturday Night Confession

 Are you aware that I own an Alf cake pan?
And a #46 hair tip for icing that looks like fur?

This is the truth.

MORE!

I also have a cake pan in the shape of a Teen Age Mutant Ninja Turtle head.

And a GI Joe pan. 

And a Lamb Chop.

It Is Exquisite

Although I'm still have not become even the least bit comfortable with the enormous TV we bought recently, I am wildly ecstatic about the IO digital cable service for two reasons: Turner Movie Classics and the DVR. Last week, I recorded the Woody Allen film Interiors. I am hypnotized by this and watch it every day because it is genius.

Forbidden

Here I compile a list of items that Sami is forbidden to buy. I keep telling him but in the face of masterful consumer marketing, or simply upon arrival in the dollar store, he forgets and keeps buying the same stuff over and over again, which either doesn't get used or "disappears". Reasons for the ban vary but mostly fall into these major categories:

1. we don't need it
2. we already have it and don't use it
3. it smells worse that the odor you are trying to cover up
4. it's unsafe
5. I don't like it

This is just off the top of my head -expect revisions and additions.

• blue toilet bowl stuff
• Carpet Fresh
• solid room deodorizer
• odor-neutralizing spray
• tea strainers
• limited purpose kitchen gadgets, i.e., pastry crimping wheels
• plastic food storage containers from the dollar store
• food products from the dollar store (possible exception made for Cow Tales, depending on my mood. What can I say? I'm only human.)
• pine oil cleaner from the dollar store
• window cleaner from the dollar store

Those are forbidden at all times. I also had to put a temporary hold on the following items because we have more than can be realistically used in the foreseeable future:

• butter
• pasta
• fabric softener sheets
• light bulbs
• scallions
• cottage cheese
• liquid dish detergent
• granola bars
• tortilla chips

In the final category is stuff pilfered from fast-food restaurants. I have no hope that he will ever stop bringing it home, but these things - like that aquatic lettuce that chokes out everything else in a pond - are what  chokes my daily life:

• Splenda
• paper napkins

Not If I See You First

Why can't they just leave it alone? Where could a remake go, but to provide answers that no one on the face of the earth could possibly want. Ian McKlellan, maybe. Jim Cavielzel, pul-eeze.

The Prisoner was brilliant in its mystery and puzzle. To me, the biggest mystery and the thing I found most fascinating and disturbing about the whole series was why would a hot number* like Patrick McGoohan wear a jacket that had white piping on the lapels?

I don't pretend to have a cultist devotion to the original series, but it did make it's mark on me for one reason -

As a young  nurse, I worked in a fancy big city hospital. At the time, these two things were a given:

• nurses wore all white uniforms
• if you were anybody at all, you had a private duty nurse

So the private duties were all over the place back in the day, but they were a recurring cast of characters. It was unusual to see a new face. I remember a sprightly older red-head named Tilley who was covered in cat hair, and a sourpuss named Dagmar who once tried a turpentine enema on one poor constipated soul. There were also two - I can see their faces but can't recall their names - overwieght to the point of having a silhouette that was almost square.

One young wit saw these two walking down the long corridor together and compared them to the Rover balloons  in The Village, out to track down and subdue a wandering patient. I was young and I laughed. I'm not proud of it.

 I think about the nurses every once in a while, now that I'm kind of Rover-like** myself. Please Lord, spare me from ever having to do direct patient-care again. I certainly don't need any Prisoner remakes to remind me. TV remakes, yet.

Anyway, it looks like a stinker. And we don't need no stinking remake.You might be seeing; me, but I won't be seeing you.

.........................................

*number! get it? har!

** note to self -  put away white drawstring slacks