A Room of One's Own

Oh for fuck's sake.

Things I've done while on hold with DirectTV:

* Refinished my kitchen table

* Drank a whole bottle of wine (really, this was a necessity, don't judge)

* Tried to have a conversation with Leslie while both of us are drunk

* Watched two episodes of Easy Entertaining with Michael Chiarello

* Cleaned my downstairs bathroom

* Surfed the internet for what deals Qwest and Cox have.

Someone really needs to send them a memo letting them know that by the 30th of the month I am fresh out of give a shit. They are this [  ] close to being in the Dead to Vanessa list.

My HUGE girl crush!

I love Deanna Raybourn. It's true. I'm totally her bitch. She knows it.

She wrote this great novel. It's called Silent in the Grave. I'm just starting it. I saw it at The Poisoned Pen today and squealed like an 8th grade cheerleader. It's available at major bookstores, too, so go buy one now. Barnes and Noble has her book as their on-line historical fiction book club selection. It's completely surreal to see your friend's picture and name all over the web and to have her incommunicado because she's on a book tour. I can only imagine how cool Deanna feels.

Aside from her mad writing skills, there are a few other reasons I love her. She sends me snark in the mail. I have all kinds of notepads, post-its, and such with snark written all over it. Literally. She even sent me a labeled pizza cutter to ensure that I had one post-divorce. The label is starting wear off and I'm very worried. I may cry if it fully smudges off.

She called me back tonight as I had left a message squealing in her answering machine. I got to gush about her book which made me happy. Then we cursed the Bitch Who Stole My Coat. Then she turned me on to Posh Girl Vintage. Our conversation the went fully into "Oh my Gawd! 1940's Blue Swing Coat on page 3!" We surfed this website and did more squealing. I should hate her for introducing me to this lady. I could buy at least a dozen things and oh sweet Jesus, they have lingerie. Poor house, here I come!

So in general, Deanna is the greatest thing since sliced bread and I think sliced bread is pretty nifty.

Three

Today, my daughter turned three. This confounds me. I remember, in the first few months of her life, thinking that 18 years never seemed so short in my life. I tried to put a full out ban on growing up when she was six months old. That didn't seem to work. I had to carry her around everywhere at that time and she was so small and so perfect. How could it get any better? It has. She is certifiably a big girl now.

We spent the day well. We got up and had breakfast and watched Dora. I had invited Stuart to come to swim lessons. It's my day to have her but I knew it would kill him not to spend time with her today. The hardest part of divorce with a child is figuring out how to orchestrate something as simple as a birthday. After that, we took her for pizza, then he went to work. My parents, sister and brother-in-law came over this afternoon for dinner, presents and cake. More toys with a million pieces. My family room looks like Toy 'R' Us threw up in the middle of it. I hate "Cooties."

I tucked her into bed around 7:30. Of course she popped up. I was laying in bed, writing a little, and she came in "to say hi." She dragged with her Baby Panda, her new bear she named after herself and Tigger. She climbed up in my bed with all three and snuggled up to me. I just sat here petting her hair and her face, her just looking up at me. I asked her if she had a good birthday. She said, "Yes. Sure. It was a good birthday." Then, without me saying it first, she just hugged me and told me she loved me. I told her I loved her more than anything in the entire world. She said, "Oh, that's good." Yes, baby, it is. We hugged a little more. There were tears on my part. I asked her if she was happy today. She said, "Yes. Sure." Me too, baby. Me too.

Happy Birthday Caroline.

A heartfelt letter of lost love

Dear Bitch Who Stole MY Green Vintage Coat on Ebay Tonight,

I loathe you. All of my friends loathe you. I haven't told them that yet, but when they hear all about what you did tonight, it will be ON! Just who do you think you are? Don't you understand the very passionate relationship this coat and I have had since we first laid eyes on each other on Monday? You are a homewrecker. Nay, you are a closet wrecker. How could you live with yourself? How do you sleep at night. I hope you don't. I hope you have horrible insomnia and are forced to watch Chuck Norris and Christie Brinkley work out at 3:30 a.m. You would deserve that, you calculating bitch you. And tonight, if you do fall asleep, I hope you drift off dreaming of your new coat but knowing I would have been so way cuter in it. And while you're at it, I'd sleep with one eye open.

My sweet kelly green vintage coat. How I will miss you. I will search the streets for you hoping someday our love can be known, acknowledged and we can come back together as one happy ensemble. Adieu.

Yes, I'm that much of a geek.

Little known fact about me: I am secretly in love with politics. Namely, I'm in love with all documents and processes that lie therein. I've actually tried reading the entire United States Constitution. I find it fascinating. I am that geeky.

I'll be spending tomorrow morning at the State Capitol. I'll be checking out the place in general and attending a legislative committee meeting. I am looking through the committee meeting agendas tonight and I swear, the words Senate Appropriations Committee kind of made me tingly in my girl parts. Friday, we get to spend the day asking public officials all kinds of probing questions. The mayor, the city manager, the city council, a senator, a representative. I kind of love my life.

I am frequently and secretly very jealous whenever I'm on the phone with Kate and she says things like, "I may lose you, I'm driving past the Pentagon," or "Hey, I'm on my way in to the National Cathedral, I'll call back after." That's just cool. I only drive by saguaros. That is pretty much it.

I really blame it on The West Wing. Aaron Sorkin did for politics what Oprah did for books. It taught you really weird random things. I had no idea when Jed Bartlett stepped down when his daughter was kidnapped that he was invoking the 25th Amendment until he went yelling to Leo about invoking it. Just more Jeopardy knowledge for me!

I'm not quite sure why it fascinates me. Perhaps it's the power the Constitution yields. Maybe it's that we actually had the opportunity and create it and live by it and that, really, we govern ourselves. Not sure. I do know I need to stop before the Battle Hymn of the Republic starts playing in the background...

Cleaning house

I'm cleaning house figuratively and literally right now. Cobwebs have grown over in places and a good amount of dust offers its protection to so much. Time to get rid of junk, this must hanging in the air and throw open the windows. Now.

Pay no attention

I just deleted a post I wrote an hour ago. I'm trying really hard to be how I want to be. To be how I see myself. Happy, genuine, unwaivering, unapologetic, content, forgiving. I just lose sight. Sometimes, it's really hard to have faith. Banging your head on a wall and falling on your ass is an easy way to bruise. I didn't mean what I said. The bitter, angry woman and I just got in a fight and I let her win a little. I'm just tired of so much.

Kate - I love you. Look at me shaking it off.

The 'fun' in dysfunctional

I just spent 6 hours with the whole family. This is not a big statement as there are only five of us. If there were more, it'd be real bad. We're a handful as individuals. We're way worse together. Seriously, my family is insane in a very lovable way. Today's activities included:

• Eating a four course meal
• Drinking an apple martini (my dad is so macho and loves such girlie drinks!)
• Drinking 4 bottles of wine
• Watching football all day
• Turning various things in my parents house upside down
• Tormenting a Jack Russell
• Exchanging of money under the table based on bets of how long it would take my mother to mention bodily functions at the dinner table
• Endless loving harassment between my sister, my brother-in-law and myself
• Wholly inappropriate conversation you should never have with your family, namely your dad, present

We all decided we are sick people. My mother asked me at one point if I could imagine ever bringing anyone else to this family. I told her that it would no longer matter if they liked someone I ever brought home. If that person were to return a second time instead of run screaming, they're a keeper.

Oddly, I couldn't imagine my family any other way. Yeah, my dad horrifically yells at my mom in the kitchen. Yeah, my sister has NO filter and is routinely crass and embarrassing. Yeah, my mother is a caricature. Me? I have a multitude of oddities I bring to the table, namely being the baby and thinking I can get away with anything.  I didn't choose these people, but I would.

I'm always up for a challenge, but...

This is just ridiculous! Last week I made a Bundt cake. How totally Stepford of me, I know. But, you know how much I love baking. My co-workers loved it. One, Gary, was telling me about how he loves lemon Bundt cake. But not just any lemon Bundt cake. Lemon Bundt cake with the pudding in the middle and would I please make him one. How could I possibly say no to this?  Ask me to bake anything and I will. And, I'll be damn giddy about it the whole time. I'm beginning to think this is an illness.

I just sat down to try and find a recipe on-line. Nothing. Not a damn thing! I only found weird recipes that involve boxed cake mixes. Seriously, I do not *do* cake mixes. Yes, I am that much of a baking snob. So, now this has turned into a crusade. I am hell bent on doing this if I have to create a recipe to do it and bake 4 cakes until I get it right. Damn, am I stubborn.

I'll keep you posted...

A new room

I've changed rooms. I've changed, period. It's time to say goodbye to Fitzgerald's. It's been a good run. So long, old friend.

As I am always one to be fashionablly coordinated, I changed the whole look of my blog to suit my new room. Bold and daring like its occupants. This room I've never been to. I didn't meet one of my best friends there and I've neither nursed nor created a hangover there. I'll go there some day soon. Until then, I'll harness a little inspiration from those that have been and made it famous along the way. I give you the Round Table Room of the Algonquin Hotel in Midtown Manhattan.

And in that spirit, I'll add a favorite by the Round Table's most notorious attendee:

Observation

If I don't drive around the park, I'm pretty sure to make my mark. If I'm in bed each night by ten, I may get back my looks again, If I abstain from fun and such, I'll probably amount to much, But I shall stay the way I am, Because I do not give a damn. Dorothy Parker