Have you missed GG?

Have you missed watching Gilmore Girls and struggling to keep up with its rapid-fire pace?

Have you missed the small-town feel and the quirky characters (Kirk)?

Have you missed feeling like a freaking genius when you picked up on one of their cultural references?

And feeling like an idiot because you didn't get the other hundred?

Because I have. I was a fan. But now there's almost a sufficient replacement out there: Bunheads. Have you seen it? It was created by the same woman who was behind Gilmore Girls and is kind of basically pretty much the same show, except this time the small town is a California beach town and the story centers around four high school girls and their ballet instructor. So there's more dancing and singing, which is cool, as the main character is a Broadway star. 

But that's about where the differences end. There are many of the same characters (Emily Gilmore, Kirk, Paris, and Gypsy, and on and on), the same breathy female vocalist singing the music between scenes, and the same humor and name dropping and pop culture references, all spoken at the speed of lightning—and I almost feel like I'm back in Stars Hollow. 

There's only one season so far. There are some episodes on Hulu, I think, but you can see the whole thing on Amazon. So if you miss GG, you should check it out. And that's my PSA for the week.

80s Pop Quiz

I know there are a lot of "You Know You're a Child of the 80s if . . . " posts and email forwards out there (back when people forwarded emails), but three specific things happened this last week that transported me back to my very own 80s childhood. To see if you had the same one I did, how about a quiz?

1. When was the last time you said the word "grody"?

I don't really remember ever saying this, but I heard it often enough. (And, to be honest, it was probably more 90s.) But Anna used it the other day and asked me if it was a real word, and it was SO weird to be reminded of it.

2. Do you remember Popples? The stuffed bear/marsupial (?) toys that could tuck themselves into their own little pouch? Better yet, did you own a Popple?

Not only did I own a popple (the lavender one, I believe), I also owned a Popple lunch box. Total awesomeness. This came up in a conversation about cool lunch boxes, which I haven't had the need to think about since about third grade.

3. Do you remember the show Lady Lovely Locks?

I don't remember the show so much as an awesome coloring book I had. But I'm pretty sure I haven't even thought of her since 1988. Anna and I were searching for something on Youtube, and a clip of the show came up and it was like I was Christopher Reeve looking at the penny. So we watched it, and she's a new fan.

Apple Uglies

It's October, and you know what that means. Apple Uglies. I went looking through the archives for some old pictures, and, lo and behold, I realized I have not done a proper post on Apple Uglies. So if you're thinking that I'm talking about my collection of old, shriveled apples, stop right there. I will explain: Every October for as long as I can remember, my family gathers to eat soup out of bread bowls, and then we decorate caramel apples with candy in an attempt to make the ugliest faces. (We've been making apple uglies for so long that the name was even a spoonerism victim once— "appee uggles." Pretty classic, right?) Anyway, we don't just use a little bit of candy but a tableful of beautiful, colorful sugar in myriad forms. (I hate using "myriad" that way, just fyi, but I do it just because it's possible. And while I'm confessing, I'll be honest and admit that one of my favorite parts of the party is separating the candy into the muffin tins. I don't really know why.)

a close-up, in case you're not appreciating the sugar splendor

The candy selection process is very important. Unlike other times, candy for apple uglies needs to be selected based on looks alone. Taste is secondary. Take that gross halloween mix in the bottom right corner of the above picture, for instance. Never would I be caught dead eating any of that, but it can be pretty useful come game day. This is where black licorice, burnt peanuts, candy corn, and the like really get to shine. With a spread like this, the possibilities are endless.

Anyway, I think it's safe to say that the best part of the whole event is chatting it up with the fam and overdosing on sugar, including donuts from Lehi Bakery for dessert [insert coma]. Another "best" part is still demanding to participate even though you're a mature adult and competing against children. I take my creativity very seriously, no matter who gets hurt in the process.

There's a certain artistry to making an apple ugly. Most of the younger kids just pile on the candy haphazardly, while shoveling candy in their mouths by the handful. But us old timers have fine-tuned some tricks over the years and come up with some pretty ugly apples.

Here are a few pictures from the Apple Ugly Days of Yore to give you some idea of what they look like.

This is a good ten-ish years ago when I was in college. I think my apple is in the bottom right corner. I don't know what I was thinking, though, because it's way too cute. (But an A+ goes to Tamra for that face . . . her real one.)

And thanks, Jen, for needing to be in every picture. :D

The results during a girls' trip to New York in 2006. We're so committed that we even made them on vacation. (Mine's the punk apple on the right, the one with the chiclet mohawk and awesome teeth made from starbursts.)

This was a montage from last year my sister put on her blog and put it to a vote. Mine was the adorably ill #5. (I still think I should have won. There's nothing uglier than vomit.)

This year, Anna finally graduated to the age where she actually made a face on her apple (instead of the aforementioned pile o' candy), and she even did a self-portrait, which I think is pretty clever.

Notice the rainbow gummy worms on her apple to match the rainbow hair paint she got at the fall festival?

Anyway, I'm pretty proud of what I came up with this year. As soon as I unloaded a box of these . . .

. . . I had my inspiration for this:

(I think her name would probably be La Volda.) The caramel made the most amazing wrinkly skin, and she kind of reminded me of this lady:

Anyway, happy Apple Uglies, everyone. Make some today. Your blood sugar will thank you . . . for giving it a run for its money.

It's been one of those days.

First, Anna woke up super early and decided to come tell me about how she hurt her shoulder. I'll be honest and say that I didn't care too much, that early in the morning, but I did make some sympathetic noises and hug her—and then I went back to sleep while she played next to me with her toy horse, Vanilla.

Then, as she was getting dressed, I had to step in with some weather-appropriate suggestions for her outfit, since it decided to be cold all of the sudden. She ended up wearing a rainbow t-shirt, a blue skirt, gray patterned leggings, and hot pink boots. And it was the kind of day where she was not open to any fashion advice and insisted on tucking in her t-shirt into her skirt, leggings, AND underwear so that the sparkly star on her skirt would be visible. I tried to be okay with it. I didn't have time to not be, I guess.

It's also been the kind of day where I had to be to an appointment and was a little stressed because I was running a little behind. And it was raining. (That's a given, on days like this.) And then someone rear-ended me at a stop sign . . . and it turned out to be my neighbor . . . who is getting married today. She was very apologetic but very flustered. I surveyed the scene quickly and, since it looked like the worst damage was done to both of our paint jobs, I told her we'd worry about it later. But there went my hairdo, since I had to put on my hood whilst out doing damage control in the rain.

It was also one of those days where your windshield wipers are being temperamental, especially the intermittent one, so you have to keep them on even though the drizzle turns to a spattering and then to nothing at all. But those wipers are staying on because you never know when you're going to get the much-needed intermittent one on again ever. Yep, that was me.

And then the rain stopped and the sun seemed to shine (although metaphorically, because it was still pretty cloudy and gray here).

I browsed through a store on my way home, only to try on a pair of pants, decide to buy them, and then find out that they were $14.99. Yes, please. And then I bought a new purse because, let's face it: when there is more duct tape inside your purse than the original stitching, it's time for a new one. And this was also cheaper than I thought. Yes, again. The shopping planets had indeed aligned.

When I got home, I took Anna to her school's book fair (I always love a good excuse to buy books), and then we sat down to watch some looney tunes together, only to have me fall dead asleep from 5 to 6:00. I couldn't have asked for a better present.

Then, during dinner, I heard Anna utter these words, "Mom, is there anymore squash? That was de-lish!" And then we finished off the meal with a few of these.

So it was the good and the bad, the happy and sad, all rolled into one today. It was exciting but exhausting—one of those days.

Handyman Ash

I've been a little bit crafty and a little bit handy lately, if I do say so myself, doing a little woodwork and sanding and blinging. I don't do it often, but when the idea strikes, you just have to go with it. I love how the two projects turned out, but I'm pretty sure I've hit my quota for the year.

So without further ado, some good before and after shots.

Project 1: Bulletin Board Remix

I've wanted a bulletin board for a while now, but they're really pretty ugly by themselves. So I thought I could do something to make one a little bit cooler. A little bit more fun. And I love it. It makes me happy just to look at it.

Step 1. Buy one of these.

Then resize six sheets of fun and happy scrapbook paper and glue on.

And be sure to cover up your measuring mistakes with a fancy ribbon. Done.

Project 2: Mirror Revamp

My parents have had this mirror for an eternity, and over the years it has gotten quite beaten and battered. A lot of the decorative trim was broken off and it was kind of a sad eyesore, so I decided I could give it a new life. This is the picture I took before I totally destroyed all of the trim. (I'll admit it was a little bit fun, being so destructive.)

Trim gone.

Sliver-generating edges sanded down.

Wood painted and bling added. (I thought I had a picture of the whole thing, but I guess it's a blogger fail. You get the idea.) I initially thought I would just leave it plain white, but in the end it was just not doing it for me. It needed something else. And the sparkles were just the thing. I should take a lesson from Anna. She's known this for years: when in doubt, add more glitz.

Lions and tigers and raccoons

Raise your hand if you've read Yann Martel's Life of Pi.

Raise your hand if you liked it.

Raise your hand if you got at least partway through it, thinking that it was a true story.

(I feel so sheepish. Yes, the premise is a little fantastical, but I was just so caught up in the story that I didn't really pause to consider that it might not be at all realistic.)

So, yes, a while ago I cracked open Life of Pi—and subsequently devoured the whole thing in a short amount of time. A really good book, by the way. I saw it at the library and knew that a couple of friends had read it and liked it, so I thought I would give it a whirl. I had kind of missed the boat on this one up until now, since it was published 10 years ago, or something. (Oh man. So many unintentional puns already.)

Also, in an interesting bit of news, I just read that they are making a movie about it and it will be directed by Ang Lee, to be released next year. Very interesting.

So it was a good book, but the point today is something else. The story is basically about a boy who is on a lifeboat in the middle of the ocean—with a tiger. There is a lot of discussion in the book about wild animals and their wildness, but I just kept thinking that, with the tiger knowing where his meals were coming from and having no one else around but the boy, he would eventually calm down a bit and get used to him. I'm probably just totally naive about such things, but these were the thoughts crossing my mind. So I was a little dubious that the tiger would remain so untamed and so ferocious the whole time. But then I learned my lesson a couple nights after I finished the book.

It was nighttime and I was busy working on my book when I heard some scratching and hubbub outside my window. The blinds were closed so I couldn't see anything. Our cat sometimes hangs out by my window, but she never scratches or makes a ruckus. And this was definitely a ruckus. I didn't want to raise the blinds and scare the creature away, so I went outside to see what it was. When I got out there, I saw that it was a raccoon. Probably a young one, judging by its size. (But, like I said, I'm no wild animal expert.)

I watched as it came away from my window, navigated around the porch railing. and moved toward me until it was about six feet away—when we made eye contact. At this point, I was honestly trying to think back to the book, wondering if I should make eye contact with it and stare it down or avoid any eye contact at all. What would Pi have done? I couldn't remember! Nonetheless, eye contact was made and I watched it for a good, long 20 seconds. It didn't budge. It didn't blink. It just kept its wide eyes locked on mine, and I'll admit that it made me a bit nervous. I could sense the wildness in it, the capability to pounce at any minute and claw me into oblivion. I don't know. It's silly, to be scared of animal that was maybe a foot tall, but I'll admit that I was a little. It was the uncertainty that did it, I think. I didn't know what to expect from it. I didn't know how to read it. I didn't know what it would do next. I could tell it felt a little threatened, and its fear transferred to me.

After our stare down, it looked away and walked off into the night. But I learned that evening that if a wild raccoon can scare me like that, I believe a tiger on a lifeboat could be, maybe, a hundred times worse. The fear of the wildness is real. So I guess I'll believe that part of it, but not the whole story. (Dang gullibility...) And how's that for a real-world connection to literature?

e-madness

I think we could all safely say that blogs or Facebook or whatever social media du jour can take over our lives if we're not careful. We've probably all experienced the hours lost after getting sucked into seeing pictures of old friends, old flames, distant cousins, people you used to go to school with—and then pictures of their old flames, and on and on and on. Even posting stuff takes a lot of time, let alone reading what everyone else has posted. (I have a longer post about this that I've been working on and will post someday. Is this ironic, given today's topic? Maybe.) And don't even get me started on the senselessness of Farmville or Mafia Wars or who knows what else. There's a lot of stuff out there that will suck your life away.

But I feel like blogs and Facebook have redeeming qualities too. They can be fun. I, obviously, like to write and exploit my blog for such a purpose. And I like using it as a kind of record of part of my life. I also like being able to keep up with friends and family this way. If used wisely, I think they can be worthwhile.

The thing I'm not sold on, however, is Twitter. To be honest, I've never used it. But I feel like it's based on what I do hate about social media: feeling a need and actually following through on filling people's lives with small bits of useless, unsolicited information about your own life and attempting to be clever to get attention (read: comments [feel free to tell me what you think about Twitter!]). Blogs and Facebook also have a propensity for such things, but they also make worthwhile contributions possible.

But is there something I'm not seeing? Am I being hypocritical? Is there a difference between blogs/Facebook and Twitter? Are there Twitter fans out there that can turn me around? I hate the idea of it, but I'm willing to admit that I may not know all there is to know about it.

Don't shower more than necessary.

This is one of the mottoes I choose to live by. And by more than necessary, I mean to never violate my cardinal rule of showering: never shower on consecutive days.

Showering is a pain. Drying and straightening my hair is an effort. And doing so every day is not a worthwhile use of my time—and I'm way too lazy for that. Every other day is sufficient for me. But sometimes, because I need to realign my shower schedule to the right days of the week, I have to go two days without showering (in order to avoid breaking the cardinal rule). I think the rest of my body can handle it, but it's my hair that usually suffers.

Like today. It's a curly phase, which usually covers up Day 3 quite nicely, but I went swimming yesterday and now I'm one step away from dreadlocks. Do I regret not showering today? No. Did I count swimming as somewhat of a shower? Maybe. Is my hair totally wild and out of control today, as a result? Yes. Do I care? No. Because above all else, I won't shower more than necessary.