Odds and Ends Revisited & Ringo Starr and His All Starr Band

Oh so many things, so little time to blog, but what the heck, chores be damned.

Ducky is gone Tuesdays and Thursday nights, I honestly believe that is part of the reason our relationship has lasted so long. It’s not like I have the best track records, but this guy is totally a keeper. His night’s gone are two of the reasons I will always have a dog, it holds any potential loneliness at bay. It also gives me the opportunity to have Thursday – girls night out, and the chance to misstate a fact or three on Tuesday nights, when I say, “I got three laps done on the cross-trainer, I think tomorrow night I’ll go for four. The lo-fat salad was almost too much for dinner.”

Instead of saying, “I munched on a grilled cheese sandwich and peanuts, while I was blogging, followed by a three truffle chaser.” I know, I know may lightning strike. Okay, crap, it was five. Leave me alone it was not six.

Saturday night the radio station sponsored Joe Diffie at Three Rivers Casino. We had a great time, the concert was very enjoyable, the crowd could have been a wee bit bigger. But then again the Bellamy Brothers had played the night before and the three-day Oregon Jamboree was well underway in Sweethome, drawing crowds with the likes of Keith Urban, Blake Shelton, the Oakridge Boys, Travis Tritt, and Miranda Lambert. My favorite lyric?

If the Devil danced in empty pockets,
he’d have a ball in mine.
With a nine foot grand, a six piece band,
and a twelve girl chorus line.
I’d raise some loot in my three piece suit,
selling one dance for a dime.
If the Devil danced in empty pockets,
he’d have a ball in mine.

Or maybe you’d prefer…

Cause and effects, chain of events
All of the chaos makes perfect sense
When you’re spinning round things come undone
Welcome to the Earth, third rock from the sun.

Great lyrics. Fabulous energy.

Sunday night we went to see Ringo Starr and his All-Starr band at the Cuthbert Amphitheatre in Eugene. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it many times again, this is my favorite venue. The band included Walter Palmer of the Romantics, Rick Derringer of the McCoys, Edgar Winters but no White Trash (Frankenstein was it amazing), Gary Wright, Richard Page of Mr. Mister, and Gregg Bissonette. We met Pinecone, the Crown and Bridge guy, the Landlady (not theirs, my nephew Arnie’s Landlady,) and several others at the top of the grassy berm just as the sun was hovering above the horizon. You know that moment, right when it hits golden peak. Ringo called it’s “God’s Light” which I thought pretty kewl – and I guess he would know it was shining right in his eyes. We rocked out and watched the loonies and free spirits in the crowd dance to the music. What a night. I would show you the pictures Pinecone took (because I didn’t take my camera) but she’s notorious for taking these fabulous shots and keeping them among her pixel count for eons.

So you get a shot of my nose instead. I’m sporting this “come from nowhere” bruise on my nose. Truly, I’m not sure how it happened. And it hurts enough I should. It wasn’t there Saturday night. I didn’t see it Sunday. Yesterday I really didn’t look in the mirror, until Ducky offered an exhausted me dinner at a local Mexican Restaurant. I went in to brush my hair, check and make sure the old makeup was gone and noticed the bruise on my nose. Where the heck did that come from? And darn don’t touch it, ouch, I said don’t touch it. I, for the life of me, don’t know how I got it. It straddles the bridge of my nose, about the location of my sunglasses, but I never put them on this weekend. Today it rides a bit less down the sides of my nose towards my cheeks than it did Monday. Today it’s also a bit brown rather than the fuzzy gray and pink of last night. No idea.

Despite hours of watering my lawn is dead. I don’t know why. It’s not like I don’t water it for hours on end, three to five days a week. I had it aerated, I give it Scott’s Lawn plus, or Turf builder with water saver… a big sarcastic oooohhhhhhh. But, nada. Sad sad sad. The good part, it will be green again by mid October without any effort from me. See why I love the rain?

And finally here is a shot of the glorious bouquet that Ducky got me for our anniversary last week. The roses are slowly being removed as I wrap and dry them. The double lilies are browning, the Speedwell remains amazing. And the carnations are still spicy smelling. I love flowers…and chocolate too. Have I mentioned truffles lately?

Sith,
Cele

PS if Pinecone ever sends me those pix, I'll addenum. Tata

The Week of Eating Fabulously

February is always one of those eating months for me. First you begin with a series of birthdays and then you get the chocolately delights of Valentines Day and now you can get I Love You Peeps – life rocks.

Add in Miseray’s birthday on February 8th, Psam’s Birthday on February 12th and you’re in birthday cake heaven.

Miseray is a chocoholic… cubed. For years I tried to make her cake one step more chocolate than the year prior. I’m up to six or seven chocolate elements and am about maxed out – chocolate fudge cake, with chocolate pudding in the mix, chocolate chunks baked in – divide into three cake pans and bake. Remove from pans to cool and cover with chocolate chips – when the chips are shiny spread them out to create a filling layer. Then I make a French Silk milk chocolate frosting topped with chocolate sprinkles. Sometimes I make a chocolate mousse to swirl into the frosting. Personally it is too much chocolate for me, but she’s in seventh heaven – I’m sure the milk industry feels a spike in consumption during that week. Ducky calls this cake Death by Chocolate but there really is a Death By Chocolate cake that isn't my creation. I have entitled the three layer chocolate be all/end all – Miseray’s Diabetic Coma Cake.

Psam’s favorite cake is coconut. At first it was a cake my ex used to make for me. After he walked she said it was her favorite and I began making it for her. I have to say it’s a great cake – topped with cream cheese frosting and toasted coconut. It’s a lot of cake.

Now that the girls have made their own homes I still make them cakes. With no cake here Ducky has realized that I never got a cake – hey I’m a mom what can I say with all that cake in the house my butt had no problem growing an extra zip code in February. Monday night I came home to find Ducky hiding in the kitchen with a beautiful German Chocolate cake with a lone tea light lit while he sang Happy Birthday to me. It was incredibly sweet. Then he took me out to dinner for an awesome Cobb Salad. I’d show you a picture of the cake… mit tealight… but I ate it with French Vanilla Ice Cream… the cake – not the tea light.

Thursday night is girl’s night – one week I will meet Audrey for dinner, the next my mom and grandma. We met a Pomodori’s for San Remo Raviolli. Oh mi gosh it’s one of my favorites. Ricotta and Spinach ravioli in an amazing and rich cream sauce with sun dried tomatoes and prociutto. TO.DIE.FOR. They have other great things on the menu – Ravioli San Remo is all my eyes see.

Because I had to work all last weekend Ducky chose to take a drive today. It began with coffee at Pinecone and the Tooth Doctor’s where my adorable sister gave me a new dragon.


She tells me her name is Prunella PenDragon and I adore her.

I first hugged Prunella back in December during Girl’s Day out at the Lane County Holiday Market. I wouldn’t let myself get her because I was suppose to be buying for others and was actually resisting all urges (outside of lunch) for my usual self-indulgence. My sister rocks.

Miseray and the Brit were shopping; Psam had worked last night so she was in a deep sleep. Having eaten breakfast Denisious and Buttman met us for a quick chat and then Ducky took me for Mongolian Grill. See all I did was eat all week.

Then we drove to my next blog and indulged in Coffee Milk shakes. Life is good.

Sith,
Cele

Warning…Copious Whining Ahead

I have never been one to get depressed during the holidays. No I get depressed when I can’t find something to wear, have gone through my entire wardrobe (which then lays in disarrayed on both floor and said bed,) resultantly I spend the next hour totally engrossed in self pity, crying on the bedroom floor in front of my empty closet. Weeping. Sadly. Weeping. But that is another story. I will say, before I go on to my real topic, this: If you are physically young (pre-menopause and wear a nice tidy size of say 10 or 8) and you smoke, stop now, because if you do it at menopause you are going to gain 70 pounds and are destined to find yourself weeping. Sadly. On the bedroom floor. Far too often for comfort.

Radio is a great industry, I love my job, it is creative, current, and strangely I get paid to play music while sitting in a little room all by myself. But if you are thinking of finding a career to make a living and want to enter radio, especially small town radio…Reality check! You need to be really good, a really, really wacky A – type personality (some sort of mental illness would probably help) and live in a mega city … LA… Chicago… New York. Not Florence, Oregon. And, oh by the way, I am not an A – Type personality, although my sanity has been questioned several times. Ergo, I don’t have a lot to offer my job (as in no dazzling, witty personality) and know that means I have to try to make myself indispensable – all the while knowing that no one is indispensable.

After years of hints from my boss, and I mean very gentle hints, I said last year that I’d take on some clients and work sales. It’s a way for me to make extra money. Most of my clients are area entertainment venues and troupes and not-for-profits, but my new cliental come from all walks of local business. With the down turn (isn’t that an understatement?) no one wants to advertise. Especially from me, it appears. I understand not wanting to strain your bottom line, but in a community where only one tenth (according to a recent poll) of the community shops in the historic old town area, wouldn’t that make your advertising all that more important? I mean really, attract your potential clients to your store, work to get your share of those buying dollars this holiday season.

Or say you’re selling Christmas Trees wouldn’t you consider radio, too if last year only advertise in the paper and ended up throwing over a hundred trees away? It’s Christmas, if people know you have trees at great prices their going to buy…but only if they know about it.

As you’re whining (hey, I know whining when I hear it) to your sales rep that the economy sucks and people aren’t shopping, shouldn’t you consider advertising your wares, services, and sales? Just wondering?

This morning I told our office manager that I couldn’t sell a parched man in the desert on drinking a glass of water for free. I need to be positive to sell, but in all truth my face is an open book, so when you have been telling me for months that you were advertising your Christmas Trees beginning Thanksgiving week and then say, “No we’re going with the paper, unless you’ve got a special” my face is going to drop, because I’m not good at poker. How I kept from responding, “No, you turned the Chamber Hometown Shopping special down last month”, how?

Now I am discouraged and apparently bitter. I feel like a fool trapped on a ship of nincompoops. A bad economy responds negatively to a lack of funding by becoming worse. Ergo, if you spend no money, the economy becomes more repressed, suppressed, and depressed. This holiday season please spend wisely, but none the less, spend. You can’t help me, but we can all help the economy.

Oh, and we’ll eat chocolate and douse our woes in Kahlua.

Sith,
Cele

OH, PS I will try to blog gratitude tomorrow for Talk Thursday, last week. It is such a good topic, thanks to Lynnblossom.

This is my brain on….

In the days of yore, I was able to effortlessly bounce back, now at 52 I’m finding it takes me days to recoup. For the last two weeks I worked double shifts. I am a person who requires a minimum seven to eight hours of sleep, being menopausal means I’m lucky if I get 4 hours unbroken, but usually I get two hours straight. Friday at the end of a marathon of work schedule I was barely able to stand on my own two feet, let alone keep my eyes open and my brain cognizant.

A storm was forecasted for Friday night, but the northern coast was expected to get the brunt of mother nature’s angst. That didn’t mean we wouldn’t get some dips, bumps, and bruises along the way. At 10:44 my station’s silence sensor calls me. At 11:02 I’m up on the mountain (a misnomer because it’s only a few hundred over sea level) fixing a jammed STL Receiver (a computer that talks to it’s counter part at the station to broadcast the signal.) I was back home by 11:45, sadly I had to be on air at 6am. Now you all know that I love my job, but I love enough sleep even more.

When I arrived Saturday morning at the station for my airshift it was eyes at half mast and brains half past scrambled….to find an FM computer/playlist that wasn’t syncing with ABC News at the top of the hour. On top of that the AM computer and my production studio were off line. A fact not easily discernable to the attentive ear because the satellite feed will stay on the air, but the commercials not air. I was so tired I took out both computers thinking I need to replace the powers sources. Luckily I plugged the AM onair into a power strip to find it booted right up. It was the UPS that died not both computer power supplies, but no I was ready to break them down…This is your brain on lack of sleep…it’s as deadly as, say crank.

I love winter, it means no yard chores- even though my paver courtyard isn’t finished, I want to put in another lily garden and tulip beds, I was glad to have the weekend to vegetate. The most I might have to do is hold the ladder for Ducky while he cleaned gutters. And laundry, and dinner, and dishes, and vaccuming, and well the regular chores. During college football season the remote belongs to Ducky, it wasn’t too heartbreaking to fall asleep on the couch somewhere between USC wiping their feet on my Ducks and stuffing their beaks in the dust of the Colliseum.

Burp and I did get some cookies baked Sunday afternoon before his mom picked him up, some delicious oatmeal chocolate chips, all they needed was some coconut. Thankfully he’s into doing all the measuring all I had to do was pour in my spices and mix (I don’t believe in measuring spices- what sort of example am I, really?) Our nutmeg spiced chocolate chip cookies are divine.

The effects of the cookies are narcotic. I’m not much of a TV watcher, but I blundered into a Starter Wife marathon on ?USA? network. I’ve meant to catch an episode in the past, but it’s never been a barn burner must. What a great show. I love the characters, the chemistry, and storyline. Unlike Pushing up Daisies, which I caught Wednesday night for the first time before my eyes closed into a coma, it held my attention, I wanted to know all the whys and hows, and what will happens when the new season starts Friday night. Then I passed out.

So what is the point of this whole rambling blog? Good question. It started out with how I don’t physically and mentally bounce back like I did when I was younger. I use to be on the go constantly, but now I relish dark, stormy winter weekends. Days falling asleep on the couch in a cookie induced coma. And every once in a while a new TV show. But most of all I am realizing that I am changing, how I’m not exactly am sure, except for age—I am getting older and while I don’t mind, I am definitely noticing and ruing some of the losses. The loss of energy. I miss my friends of childhood. I will soon miss Burp wanting to bake cookies with his grandma, or cuddling with me during a Duck’s game. And I rue the days when I don’t bounce back and it makes me emotional and bitchy, despite how hard I try to fight it. I’m just glad Ducky still wants to hold my had and eat my cookies.

Sith,
Cele

Where Have All The Flowers Gone?

Being female allots me those days where I can be emotional. Days where Hallmark and long distance call commercials tend to make me sob at the drop of a hankie. It just gets worse in menopause and there’s not enough chocolate in the world to make it better.

Tonight, Tuesday, as is the norm it is quiet. Ducky stays off the highway (ergo he’s in Eugene), the house is quiet, and I am compiling my Wednesday Links. Because I listen to music all day long at work, I tend to not (despite a great collection of cds) to play anything that would disturb the quiet at home. But today was one of those days. At 11:26 I had programmed in John Flynn’s Dover into my rotation, the song rips my heart out. So there I sit at 11:30 with tears clogging both my throat and eyes, and an interview to do on-air. The best laid plans of mice and me. So tonight the quiet was quite loud and I went looking for a CD to pop into the ROM. David Bowie won’t cut it, Matchbox Twenty’s in the truck, and well the hell is my Jason Mraz?

So instead of rocking out I opt for the Brothers Four. You know me, I love folk. First I bounce around with Tie Me Kangaroo Down, then Whiskey in the Jar comes on and I think of my daughter Psam (no she’s not into the whiskey jar – but she’s probably the only person I know who use to collect versions of Whiskey in the Jar then played it for her toddler.) Then right after a rousing rendition of Woody Guthrie’s This Land Is Your Land (which makes me think of my grandson – who knows most of the words – LOUDLY) the Brothers Four prelude the next cut with, and I quote, “Many times there are perfect songs for the perfect time. This song is probably more perfect now than for any time, we wish peace to the world” and then they began playing Pete Seeger’s Where Have All The Flowers Gone? And I began to cry for the world. They sang in beautiful four-part harmony, in rounds of glorious words, heartbreak, hope, and the circuits of time.

Someone please pass the friggin’ chocolate.

At this moment of my writing the current death toll in Bush’s face saving War for oil, er I mean the battle against Terrorism (if it’s against terrorism how come Bush and Chaney are still in office, and not incarcerated somewhere? And where will they hold the war crimes trials against them? Crawford, Texas seems appropriate we could send the idiot back to his village.)

American deaths: 4109
Iraqi deaths: Between 85,153 & 92,883 (there is no official count – because apparently no one deems this important)

The cost in American dollars: $531,154,284,979.00 (but that was like so yesterday)

Below is a related item from the Iraq War Coalition Casualty website

They have this great ticker that I could not get to work on my site, so I STOLE the info for you from the ticker...

Rumsfeld 01 / 2003 The war: "Something under $50 billion for the cost."
· Fact: Now over $531 billion. Every year costs more

Rumsfeld 02 / 2003 "The war: "It could last six days, six weeks. I doubt six months."
· Fact:Insurgency could go for 12 years. –Rumsfeld, '05.

Wolfowitz 03 / 2003 I think it'll go relatively quickly, …
Weeks rather than months.
·Fact: Iraq war: as long as WWII on this Nov. 24th.

Bush 05 / 2003 Iraq: "can really finance its own reconstruction
· Fact: We paid for it, and the lights go out 16 hours/day.

Bush 05 / 2003 "Good news to the men and women who fought ... their mission is complete.
· Fact: Over 2500 Americans have died since then.

Bush 07 / 2003 Some feel like they can attack us -- bring 'em on.
· Fact: Tough talk … sent the wrong signal. –Bush, '06

Rumsfeld 07 / 2003 I don't do quagmires.
· Fact: Troop cuts? Maybe spring 2007. –Gen. Abizaid

Bush 11 / 2003 We've reached another great turning point.
· Fact: Insurgents "expanding attacks." —Gen. Abizaid

Cheney 06 / 2004 Two days ahead of schedule, the world witnessed the arrival of a free and sovereign Iraq.
· Fact: 'Ahead' and secret — afraid of insurgents.

Bush 01 / 2005 Tomorrow the world will witness a turning point in the history of Iraq.
· Fact: More ties to Iran—Shiite extremists elected.

Rumsfeld 02 / 2005 On January 30th in Iraq, the world witnessed ... a major turning point.Tomorrow the world will witness a turning point in the history of Iraq.
· Fact: Iraqi casualties up: 51 before, 58/day after. –DOD

Cheney 05 / 2005 They're in the last throes, if you will, of the insurgency.
· Fact: Not so. –Abizaid 12 more years. –Rumsfeld

Bush 05 / 2005 You got to keep repeating things over and over and over ... to kind of catapult the propaganda.
· Fact: Bush's most repeated phrase is — "I repeat..."

Bush 12 / 2005 This will be recorded as a turning point in the history of Iraq ... and the history of freedom.
· Fact: After 2005, sectarian incidents up 500%. –DOD

Cheney 12 / 2005 The elections were the turning point. … 2005 was the turning point.
· Fact: Election caused sectarian violence upturn. –DIA

Cheney 03 / 2006 Q: Do you still believe the insurgency is in its final throes? Cheney: Yes.
· Fact: Insurgency strong, potent, viable. –DOD –GAO

Bush 05 / 2006 This is a turning point for the Iraqi people.
· Fact: More ties to Iran Shiite Prime-Minister elected.

Bush 05 / 2006 We have now reached a turning point in the struggle between freedom and terror.
· Fact: 42% increase in Iraqis killed.

Cheney 09 / 2006 If we had to do it over again we would do exactly the same thing.
· Fact: Iraq fuels jihad. —All US Intelligence !

Mind Numbing, thank you Zfacts

I do pray for peace for the world. November can't come fast enough.
Sith,
Cele

Chocolate Crisis!

As you know Ducky and I are on diets. He has consistently lost three pounds a week for three weeks running, and is two pounds down this week with weigh-in not coming up until Sunday night (for him). I on the other hand lost two pounds the first week, two pounds the second week, went strict vegetarian last week and upped my Cross Trainer time by five minutes a day and lost NADA!

I was so discouraged, and craving chocolate, that I told Ducky I was going to eat an ear off his bunny.

“Dude, Easter was like, so March. Off Bugs already.”

But I found some resistance to offing the Bunny.

How?

Those kewl little foil covered Dove chocolate eggs that I filled his Easter basket with. Yes, those and some of the little, itty bitty speckled malted milk eggs were still hanging around (but they give me indigestion, so they were safe.) I grabbed about six Dove eggs from inside the teacup where I’d stashed them (so they wouldn’t be a temptation) and thought they’d be great at staving off suicide by chocolate. The foil I found was very resistant to my attempts to eat said chocolate.

So now I have a new use for the picky end of my Dental Flosser. Picking at the ends of the foil to free the egg.

Next year I’m buying foiless chocolate eggs.

Sith,
Cele

Now I’m going to go polish my lamp

Evolution of the Valentine

Remember having to choose just the right Valentine for each person out of the box of preprinted “Love, Me’s” your mom bought? Then you would meticulously write their name on the front of the little envelope (You know the ones with the glue that taste like dissolved vitamins, and I’m not talking Flinstones – no I’m talking your mom’s vitamins, the ones with extra iron.) And then after all the yuck and the muck stuck to your tongue, the dumb, stupid flap wouldn’t stick. Yeah, those valentines and those dumb, stupid little envelopes.

After spending the entire weekend before Valentine’s Day sweating in preparation and adolescent angst as to whether Jody Coyote or Greg “He touched my hand, I’ll never wash it again” Reed liked your card (yeah, I know I was hedging my bets even back then, albeit in vane) you find out that Pammy Wilkerson was smart enough to specifically add well chosen Conversation Hearts to get her message across, win the boys, and the day. Actually it was Pammy who yelled, “Greg Reed touched my hand, I’m never going to wash it again. He’s meeting me on the monkey bars at lunch.” Now this is before girls were allowed to wear shorts or pants to school. Back in a time when showing panties on the twirling bar and jungle gym was an every day occurrence. Back before it was taboo to us. So you know what Greg was really there for? Yeah, that’s right, twirling until you puked up those Conversation Hearts.



It became a race far too important to leave to preprinted cartoon characters, and by the third grade I was working to leave Pammy Wilkerson in the dust. I’d placed my eyes on new toys in the school yard, I was on a conquest. I toiled with paper lace doilies, pink and red construction paper, Elmer’s paste, and markers that would indelibly let Danny Buzzelli know I WANTED HIM to be my Valentine. Alas. Mon Dieu. Son of a biscuit eating basketball player, Kathy Gaston stole the day and Dan’s eight year old heart (no twirling required – because we didn’t twirl anymore, no we played hopscotch and tetherball now for hours on end.) Kathy, armed with glitter and all the latest Beatles 45’s knew all the right things to say on her doily hearts.



Today I say it with Chocolate; lots of Chocolate (because Ducky only knows four food groups – cheese, crackers, dip, and chocolate – not necessarily in that order, but really close,) music, and several of the best that Hallmark has to offer. There is almond toffee by the coffee maker, Reese’s peanut butter hearts on his steering wheel, Dove chocolate hearts in his lunch, and a Johnny Cash CD in his overnight bag (nothing says “I Love You” more than buying music you can’t stand for the one you love) with Hershey’s Cherry Cordial Kisses in the pockets of his Levis.



But what did my Ducky do? He One Upped Me….BIG TIME!

I ♥ My Ducky!

And those fancy ass chocolate covered strawberries he got me.



Happy Valentine’s and Lots of Chocolate Love coming your way.

Sith,
Cele