ok, it's getting a little silly

It's been nearly 4 months since I've posted anything...it may be time to shut er down.

Anyone know how to turn your blog into a book. I'm not talking a novel. I'm talking like just your blog, but hardcopy?

Thanks peeps.

i can post

But it's just like a tiny blogger...not so smart

Also...problems in teckkie land...

Can I just say that my R2D2 Verizon Smart phone STILL does not sync properly with the facetubes. To add insult to injury, all of my FB friends are in my phone book as contacts. Did I mention I am friends with a DOG. I mean he's a cute dog and all, but really, come on folks.

The owners manual says I can wipe the device, but will this eat all my pictures? Because that is NOT acceptable.

Grrr...

The drama of the sod

My back yard is rather small. But, for a Hill yard, it's large and I have GRASS. Well, I have the potential for grass. For a few years Mr. Bunny and I have attempted to seed. Seed goes down in late spring and we water, water, water. We have some good looking grass (a little on the delicate side) until about July. Then it is just too hot to sustain the little seedling sprouts.

I decided that this year, I'd take the easy way out...sod. I have to say, 3 days in it looks GREAT. The entire back yard has been transformed. It looks awesome. How long it will last is a guess, but I'm going to give it the old college try.

It is really fun to just go out and sit on the grass. It's also really fun to allow small children to crawl around on CLEAN grass. Not like that iffy grass at Lincoln Park...

Next project, the garden!

trying to be a better teckkie

So I bought this smart phone, which is way too smart for me btw. I've synched my facetubes and my interbook and my gmailchattalk... so now I'm going to try blogging. But at this point its just like normal blogging, but on a very tiny screen.
Suggestions?

Want to buy a REALLY cool lamp???

Mid Century Lamps

I went to Gaga.

I was going to write up my own review, but the Post did a pretty good job.

A pyrotechnic bikini? Lady Gaga gives D.C.'s 'little monsters' what they want.
By Sarah Kaufman
Washington Post Staff Writer
Friday, February 25, 2011; 3:48 PM

"I feel like I know you all so well," Lady Gaga purred as she sat in a black bullet bra at her piano - its lid rimmed in flames - at the Verizon Center on Thursday night. She might as well have been playing in a dive bar, hustling tips by soothing the battered egos of a bunch of drunks.

But in view of her career and the unslakable curiosity it has generated - this was the second pass of her "Monster Ball" tour, which came through in September - Gaga's sentiment is absolutely true.

Lady Gaga knows us all TOO well. She knows about our lust for an outrageous blonde, for someone to fill out Madonna's lingerie and push her lyrics into a no-man's land of sexual provocations. She knows we're always up for costumes. And she knows we'll overlook middle-of-the-road music if the hook is catchy and the theme's a little subversive.

Most of all, Lady Gaga knows we're all broken inside, and that we crave hearing how we're just as big a star as the divine hot dog onstage with the sparks shooting out of her bikini - the one bellowing into her headset that we must never give up on our dreams.

Her pyrotechnic two-piece - yes, fireworks detonated from her crotch, too - was one of the more spectacular of Gaga's dozen or so costume changes throughout her two-hour set. Others included a translucent rubber dress topped off with a nun's wimple (and tape over her breasts, an oddly Victorian touch for a woman who regularly shouted expletives and mimed the kama sutra with her dancers). But the one disguise the 24-year-old never shed was Mother.

Gaga's your hell-raiser-with-a-heart-of-gold mom. For you, she would stomp on bullies with her go-go boots (because, as she confides while stretched out on the stage like a wet cat, she was once bullied, too). She's Oprah without pants, bucking up her fans - her "little monsters," as she calls us, affectionately - between every song. She knows we don't only go to a Gaga show for the music but also - maybe mostly - for the messianic, revival-tent message.

And what of the rest of the show? It was a rollercoaster through a Gaga theme park, including her ubiquitous hits "Telephone" and "Poker Face" along with songs from her new "Born This Way" album, including the title tune and a ruminative piano interlude, "Speechless." The songs are strung along a hokey and unnecessary narrative about her car breaking down on the way to the Monster Ball.

Surprisingly, for a young woman with such a fit, willing and eager body - she was more outside than inside most of those outfits - she doesn't dance much. Her backup dancers are an energetic bunch, doing their best work in the "Born This Way" finale in pale yellow plastic dresses, even the men, dancing barefoot like a troupe of modern dancers, slipping in a swift parody of the strictness of ballet, then reverting to pounding, muscular rhythms that are at once heavy yet exhilarating.

What does it mean that we need Gaga? Is it delightful or sad that this extravagant pop star seems to feel our pain? She knows us too well, knows we love the fantasy. That's why she's up there in her vinyl bra, smeared in fake blood, bellowing over the cheers: "I hate the truth! I prefer a giant dose of [barnyard epithet] any day over the truth!" She exhorts her followers to put their paws up, which equates being a "monster" with miming a kitten, but everyone complies and the arena looks like it is filled with extras from "Cats" and Gaga, peering out from under her false eyelashes, sees the adoration and undoubtedly feels the love and ... lights up. Show's over.

In their worshipful stilettos and spandex, Gaga's little children trip precariously into the rain, singing that indelible, upbeat, sally-forth refrain from "Born This Way:" "I'm on the right track, baby..." Gaga knew we'd do that, too.

Traffic laws are our friend.

I love driving. Really. It's probably because I don't do it very much. My commute is very short and I live in the city so I walk everywhere. Ok, well everywhere but work.

Anyway.

I love traffic laws. Really. I wish everyone would obey them. They are there for your safety people. If everyone follows the traffic laws then no one gets run over. Also, they make for an orderly and safe commute.

I'm serious.

For example... Constitution has 4 lanes. By the Capitol during rush hour it changes to 3:1 lanes either way depending on rush hour. During the evening rush there are 3 lanes headed East and one lane headed West. There is also a NO LEFT TURN sign on the corner of 1st NE and Constitution. I cannot tell you how many cabbies DAILY just ignore the red neon sign as well as the posted metal sign with specific directions that you cannot turn left between 4:30-6:30 and turn left anyway!!!

You wouldn't think this would create a problem. BUT IT DOES. Because there is only one late coming west, the cabbies have to wait until all the cars have passed to turn left (illegally). Thus completely negating the benefit of the 3rd east-bound lane!!! IT DRIVES ME NUTS.

I'm going to write the city and help them understand the hundreds of millions of dollars which they could make by installing one tiny little traffic camera on the corner of 1st NE and Constitution.

Seriously people, follow the traffic laws. And this includes you cyclists!!! If you don't follow the traffic laws, no complaining about gettin' run over.

Best Ad ever

I watched the Superbowl, but only for the commercials.

Am I the only one who didn't know this??

Chicken Fried Steak is STEAK?????

I totally thought it was chicken. The woman next to me in the food line said it was chicken. Why would they do this to me???

Just so you all know, chicken fried steak is not chicken... I guess if it was chicken they would just call it FRIED CHICKEN.

Whatever.

Let them eat cake

I don't cook. I do a lot of things pretty well, but cooking isn't one of them. I'm a pretty good baker, but cooking is just to much. And who has time to cook. When I get home from work I mostly want to sleep.

But enough is enough. I am going to learn to cook. I ordered a cookbook from William Sonoma and am going to use it. So there.


























I started on Saturday with Lagsana...hard to mess up pasta right, and I'm like one/tenth Italian, so what the hay. And, I'm please to report it wasn't horrible. It was actually pretty tasty (and when I say tasty, I mean it was actually eaten).
(Picture below for proof.)

There may be hope for me yet.

Back to November

November was a good month.

I did lots of yoga, I ate well, I was very zen at work. Somehow that as all gone south. I pretty much am grumpy at work at least a little every day. And I like my job, I really like my job. It is fulfilling and challenging and exciting.

Perhaps my interpersonal skills went somewhere.

Maybe they are still at Powder Mtn. At any rate, they need to come back. I need more yoga or something.

Going somewhere?

I hate unpacking. I try to avoid it at any cost. I was in Utah for three weeks (lovely time had by all) and I've been home since Sunday...

My luggage is still sitting (open) on the chair in my room. I figure I'll just use it as a supplemental drawer, but not put anything back in it...

It will be empty eventually, probably.