Artful Scheme of Happiness

Totally Addicted To ...

malt powder. Don't ask me why. I don't much care for ice cream, but put a little malt powder on it and I'll eat a whole tub of Breyer's! I tried sprinkling some on yogurt (to avoid all the fat and calories), but that tasted so craptastic that I won't be doing it again. Isn't it nice to know that you still learn things, even at my advanced age?

I am leaving for the old homestead in a few hours, armed with a fistful of dimes and all of my most stunning outfits. The only thing I can't figure out is how many books to bring. I guess I just have to pack my bag and then see how much room is left. But then, it's unlikely that you care ... so I won't go on.

I went to the most ridiculous party last night ... a Friends/Will & Grace Premiere party. The crowd? A bunch of girls who seemed fresh out of college. Well, their furniture seemed fresh out of college (you KNOW what I mean); they seemed old beyond their years. Don't women moisturize any more?

Confidential to aged party-throwing girls: Please don't offer me any of your rice krispy squares. Frankly, they look dry and CRISPY (and I can see that they're just WAITING to shred the roof of my mouth ... like the mighty Applejack). Unless you double the butter in the recipe, I won't eat them.

posted by art @ 7:34 AM

Just so you know ... a helpful hint from Courtin's Nouveau Traité de la Civilité, 1675

Women, in mixed company, should not pull their skirts up to their thighs in order to warm their legs by the fire.

posted by art @ 12:35 PM

Mauled by a Chipmunk; The True Story of My Dipstick Hiking Companion

My hike yesterday was amazing. It was a seven-mile hike (round trip) to Cascade Pass, up 35 switchbacks and across a field of boulders that just SCREAMS landslide, to a place at the top of a mountain that looks out into a breathtakingly beautiful valley. Best of all, the hike afforded us a phenomenal view of an avalanche (taking place, thank God, on a different mountain). And the chance to contract rabies.

You know how they say not to feed the wildlife? Well, this is easy to do when it's some ugly goat staring placidly at you. But when it's a darling little chipmunk staring up at you with big, innocent eyes, how can you refuse? Mmm hmmm, word to the wise: do not put an unsalted peanut on your palm so that Chip or Dale can take it out of your hand. Because Chip might just clamp onto your thumb with his needle-sharp teeth, and hang on for dear life when you shake him around like a wet rag to get him to let go. And you know what they say about wild animals ... once they develop a taste for blood ....

The funniest thing was that on the way back down the mountain, all the chipmunks could sense that we were fools, so they would RUSH US to see if we'd drop any food. I swear to G*d, one chipmunk came racing out of a tree straight at the wounded girl. She screamed and almost jumped into my manly arms for safety. (Fat chance of that. I firmly believe in women's lib and would have dropped her like a ton of bricks. She was right about my arms being manly though.)

So, clearly I will not be leading any expeditions to Cascade Pass in the near future. Chipmuncula and his blood-thirsty friends are lying in wait for unwary passersby. Luckily for us (and humanity in general), the life span of the common chipmunk is rumored to be only five years.

posted by art @ 12:14 PM

The Magic of Retirement

I'm off to go on a hike in the Cascades (hoping that I'll meet Eric, the inevitable love of my life, along the way). I just hope that the paths aren't STEEP this time, or Eric will find me scooting along on my butt, crying like a little girl.

posted by art @ 8:34 AM

Questions for the unwashed cretins of the advertising world

When did the phrase "au jus" become a singular noun? As in, "try our Quizno's toasted sub with a side of au jus?"

Why can't you look up "du jour" in the dictionary? "Soup de jure" means "soup as a matter of law." It does NOT mean "soup of the day."

posted by art @ 8:46 PM

Proust Revisited

My candidate for the best line in literature ever: "I would lay my cheeks gently against the comfortable cheeks of my pillow, as plump and fresh as the cheeks of childhood." And with that I get back to my book ....

posted by art @ 5:38 PM

A la Recherche du Temps Perdu

The sky is disturbingly blue today. For some reason it makes me long for Bascom Hill in Madison. There is no autumn as beautiful as Madison's.

Do you remember my spider friend, the one who I thought had given her life in the extension of one perfect line of silk? Well, I left that silk line there as a sort of tribute to her resolve and hard work. And now it turns out that she hasn't passed on to the great blue beyond at all! Nope, she's still hard at work in my room. There's now another single line, this time stretching from the corner of a small window to the corner of a picture of my grandmother. Perhaps this spider friend of mine has me confused with Miss Havisham, thinking that if I allowed one silk line to remain, she'd have free rein to decorate my room like a Christmas tree. Or perhaps she's playing some mad game of connect the dots (I can't see any dots). Mm hmm, great; now I long for a can of Raid.

posted by art @ 1:03 PM

Hmmm

I just played MASH to determine the course of my life. Here are the honest-to-God results:

You will live in House.
You will drive a grey mercedes.
You will marry Eric and have 4 kids.
You will be a lawyer in Moscow.

I was hoping for a mansion and NO kids (or one kid), and of course a darling little Austin Mini ... but whatever. Now I just need to meet a man named Eric!

Congratulations to me on the good news of my fabulous (upcoming) life.

posted by art @ 4:32 PM

Rainy Days and Mondays...

don't really get me down, thank G*d. But reading about life during the Russian Revolution does. Do you suppose that the common people had any idea how screwed up their lives would be? That being said, let me just say how excited I am about the direction in which the bellicose George Bush is taking our country.

Some lonely, obviously bored spider spent much time and effort last night in extending a single silk thread, five feet in length, from the corner of the ceiling to the corner of the cufflink box on my dresser. Melancholy as I am (those poor Obolenskys), I have to think that the exhausted spider, frustrated with the futility of catching flies in my sparkling clean room, then curled up in the corner and wept himself to death.

House of Mirth anyone?

posted by art @ 3:23 PM

Euro COOL

Ahh, the family weekend. Drinking, hiking, eating, drinking, shopping. What more is there to say?

If you ever want to infuriate me, tell me you've bought a Ford Excursion. That's what the cruel, sick people at Hertz gave us when we tried to pick up our rental car. (I was lobbying for the Land Rover, but I was shouted down.) The Excursion is rumored to be the largest SUV on the road. I wouldn't want to see anything bigger. My new dream is to buy an Austin Cooper and mini it all around town.

Somewhere along the line, I became afraid of heights. Imagine me trying to traverse a steep mountain slope (89 degrees, I swear), arms held straight out for balance (Gatorade bottle in one hand, for effect), taking tiny little steps across a scree field that I was sure would give way at any moment. It was more like performance art than a hike.

When hiking, PLEASE do not shout the entire time, "to scare off the cougars." Yodel if you must, but don't yelp and howl like a wounded dog. IT BUGS.

Blue shirts make me look even more beautiful than I thought possible. Something about deep limpid pools of grey-blue heaven.

Blue striped shirts make me look incredibly cold and bitchy. Coincidence? Luckily, red striped shirts make me look warm and inviting. But not too inviting ... I still don't need to be talking to any strangers ... pop POP!

The Four Seasons in Seattle is no Reg Bev Wil.

And that's all she wrote.

posted by art @ 9:25 AM

Recovery

I know, I know, you were worried about the brownies. Well, something must have been wrong with my tastebuds initially because once the brownies cooled down, they were fantastic. Seriously, I have never had a better brownie.

Right now I am in the midst of baking rolls. I'm making dinner for my brother tonight and I'm trying to recreate some of my grandmother's recipes. So, we're having beef stroganoff and hard rolls. Isn't that wildly exciting? The only thing I'm worried about is that my grandmother wrote some of these recipes when she was in the beginning stages of her Alzheimer's ... and I'm concerned that she may have left out ingredients. NOT out of the realm of possibility.

I think when we greet the rest of the fam at the airport tomorrow, we will wear Oshkosh North t-shirts and roll up our jeans, a la 1987. No socks too! (Remember, little Adman, how I would never wear socks in the winter even though we walked a mile to school through driving snow? Well, I walked you to the bus stop and then walked on the rest of the way all alone. You took the bus because of your year-long ear condition. Good times, good times.)

Off to clean the house! Have a good weekend! :)

posted by art @ 1:46 PM

Am I insane?

Why do I sometimes check my own website to see if I've posted anything new and interesting? I know that I haven't ... yet I hold out hope that something will surprise me. Do I have separate personalities? Bonkers, I tell you, bonkers.

My family is descending on me from various parts of the nation (wearing Star-approved jogging suits, no doubt) for a weekend of merriment and alcohol-soaked frivolity. There may be some hiking and kayaking involved, but laughter and drinking will definitely be the focus of the weekend. I'm hoping to have lots of antics to report on next week! Woohoo!

posted by art @ 6:09 PM

Oh no you didn't!

Sorry I didn't post yesterday. Somehow it didn't seem right to occupy myself with the most frivolous of activities on that least frivolous of days.

I made some of the "world's best" chocolate brownies today, and just by looking at them I can tell that they didn't turn out very well. I can't think why, and now I'm mad! So maybe it wasn't the best time in the world for me to watch The View. But I did, because I do, and there you go. Star Jones hosted a segment on Fashions for Fatties (or something like that), and one model had on a "spa look." It was a cotton jogging suit. (Jogging, here, is more descriptive than literal.) Star had the AUDACITY to blurt out, "This outfit is perfect for wearing on an airplane!" OH NO IT ISN'T! I can just see the hordes of tubbies descending on the nation's airports looking for all the world like bloated rejects from the Russian mob.

Does anyone besides me long for the good old days when people DRESSED UP for air travel? Well, don't go by me. I long for the days when people could smoke in movie theaters, and I don't even smoke. But I do try to look my best when I fly.

posted by art @ 12:04 PM

The Great Potato Famine of 2002

Swimming as I am in free time, and bearing a healthy respect for Mother Earth, I thought it might be a good idea this year to grow my own potatoes. You know, what with the promise of war and famine, drought and disease ... who wouldn't want their own potatoes to help them through the winter? So, I hand-selected from among about a million candidates the PERFECTLY sprouted potato. I dug an immense hole, three feet deep and two feet in diameter, because I'd heard that potatoes grow best in large holes (WHY didn't I hear about the mound method BEFORE I undertook this project?). I filled the hole with only the best organic compost, hand-sifted. I planted my darling little potato, watered it lovingly, and guarded it ALL SUMMER from the marauding possums and greedy squirrels who sought to plunder its bounty. It grew to the size of a small SUV, and flowered beautifully. The world was good.

Yesterday I brought in the harvest. The days are getting shorter, you know, and the snows will be setting in soon (or something). So I dug through the ground with my bare hands (ME!), trying not to bruise the tender skin of my potatoes. And I came back with approximately twenty tiny little spudlets, each about one quarter the size of a golf ball. Now, I don't know if I started out growing some lovely yukon gold potatoes or perfect little red potatoes, but I ended up with weensy little PINK potatoes. Clearly the magic of gardening has escaped me.

Luckily, the magic of cooking has not. Tiny pink potatoes are especially good when roasted with onion and dill.

posted by art @ 11:46 AM

Very Cutting Edge

I attended the opening of a new "multi-disciplinary contemporary arts center" the other day. I am now rabidly anti-art. When asked if this new center, which is in a transitional neighborhood, would hopefully become mainstream and serve as an anchor for the neighborhood as the neighborhood gentrifies, the board member we were talking to said, "No, I think it will always remain cutting-edge." I WANTED to say, "Isn't cutting-edge the new mainstream?" But I didn't. Instead I just sit and long for the days of Watteau, Fragonard, and the like.

posted by art @ 1:18 PM

Mea Maxima Culpa

Do you ever wonder if your skin is thicker (or thinner) than most? Because I'm so highly critical of myself and the world around me, I tend to think (wrongly) that everyone else is as immune to criticism and mockery as I. I treat criticism as an enormous joke, and there's little I love more than to hear what others have to say about me. But I don't let it affect me, because if I'm happy with what I do, I don't need to care what others think. If I ever hurt anybody though, then I sincerely apologize. My intent is only to make people THINK or LAUGH, never to hurt.

posted by art @ 1:17 PM

Important Medical Update

It has been established (by me) that I am allergic to duck eggs. So please, when packaging your elaborate care packages, please do not include duck eggs.

The bad news is that at the rate food products are being eliminated from my diet (mushrooms, cooked seafood, peaches, apricots, nectarines, plums (well, any fruit, really, which is sort of ironic) because I don't like them; duck eggs because of the insane stomach cramps), soon I will be subsisting on pats of butter and the odd cup of room-temperature tea.

posted by art @ 3:01 PM

Drudge Work

Today is Sally Jesse Raphael's penultimate show. (I've seen the word "penultimate" all over today, and it excites me to no end. Is there a resurgence of vocabulary, or has everyone been combing the thesaurus lately?) On the one hand, it's about damn time. On the other hand, what's going to replace it? PLEASE tell me that there will be another hour of Divorce Court per day! OR, they could start showing Perfect Partner all day long. (Two pairs of friends/family find the perfect date for someone they know. Hilarity ensues. It's a show from the BBC being played on the Discovery Channel, and it's a bright spot in an otherwise dreary afternoon.) Just as long as I don't ever have to watch the flaming Christoper Lowell feature Rodney Dangerfield and his 17-year old silicone-enhanced wife EVER AGAIN.

This might be awful to say, but here goes. Madame de Sevigne needed therapy. There, I said it! The woman was clearly obsessed with her daughter. I much prefer the Duc de Saint Simon, who had no children and therefore was content to be obsessed with himself. I hope this doesn't mean that I lack a certain je ne sais quoi?

My quoi and I are off to do laundry now.

posted by art @ 2:53 PM

I Spoke Too Soon

Judging by yesterday's View, I may have been too hasty in expressing a desire that the gals come back from vacation. Perhaps I need to start a massive write-in campaign to drive Star Jones (I am a lawyer too! So don't get me started!) off the air. The only good thing about Star is that she doesn't like vile dogs. But that's not enough for me. So anybody who wants to aid in my campaign, called FLUSH (Free our Land! Unite against that Star Hussy), should send a brief note to Babs W. You'll be doing me a favor. After all, think of me sitting here, nose bleeding and stomach cramping, tears in my beautiful blue eyes, forced to watch STAR JONES on my second favorite daytime television show. Doesn't your heart just break?

posted by art @ 9:04 AM

Why Me? The Sad Story of an Extraordinary Klutz

I'm sure you're all painfully aware of the horrors of my illness, which has not been cured despite promising signs. I think I'm not getting better because I keep doing horrible things to myself. Like the other day when, at the height of the runny nose stage, I punched myself in the nose. While gesticulating wildly (you know how I do), I whacked myself in the nose, causing an old car-crash wound to open up and a river of blood to gush forth. Try stopping a nosebleed while you have a runny nose, you'll see how much fun it is.

THEN, last night, I seem to have contracted food poisoning. Either that or I am allergic to duck eggs. All I know is that I almost fell over from the stomach cramping. I did have tears in my eyes at some point, because what can you do but endure the horrendous pain? O, woe is me. I am woe. We are one. My tummy is slightly better this morning, but I will not be consuming any more food EVER AGAIN. This will solve all future stomach problems and lead to a delightful slimness, thereby benefiting everyone.

posted by art @ 8:52 AM

Bored to tears

You know, the gals over at The View each make seven hundred billion dollars a year, so why do they need any days off? I am SO SICK of The View Encore. We've all seen the repeats on A&E, and we want NEW VIEWS on our regular daytime television. If you're lucky enough to be gainfully employed by Michael Eisner, you should work EVERY SINGLE DAY so that those of us who are unemployed (retired?) don't have to watch an entire day of Jeff Corwin and his experiences.

posted by art @ 10:05 AM

Dear Mrs. Teasdale

So, apparently some people (you know who you are) have been redirected to another blogspot when trying to reach mine. I would LOVE to claim that Shanny was an alter ego of mine, since her posts are so delightfully informative, SO VERY Jean Teasdale. ("Husband likes his chili over spaghetti.") Alas, it's not me. I can only hope to emulate Mrs. Teasdale's inimitable style. It's a new goal of mine.

posted by art @ 10:01 AM