The Blog: Spellbound by our own imperfect lives...

We went to the bar for beer before meeting Marie to do our taxes. She has wicker furniture, hard wood floors, rag rugs, and a cat named Nick who chases his shadow or his tail. You can't get that at H&R Block. We went back to the bar after we got the bad news. It was kid's night at Patrick's so it was nerve-wracking until about 8. We ran into Kate and talked about our collective cynicism about work, politics, life and everything else until we left at 8:30. It was a long night by old people's standards. Kate's going to see Barak Obama at the Target Center on Saturday. I don't care. I can't believe he's any different than any of the rest of them. I'll vote for Hillary or nobody. We had a few good laughs about the Super Bowl XLII. Extra large II. I said they should have little snapshots of the athletes as they appear today in the corner to show that they are not Super Human. Joe Namath for example. He was so cute in 1968 but Regis says he has gotten

I'm too tired to write much today. I went to work early in spite of a late start, worked hard all day, then came home and cooked and cleaned up in the kitchen. I tried the Cook's Illustrated recipe for baking powder biscuits. I love that magazine. They have such good illustrations so you aren't left on your own to figure out folding and rolling. Honestly, they were two inches high and just as flaky as the ones in the picture which are not mine because I'm too lazy to get up and take a picture of them. They peeled apart in lovely white layers of soft dough. Magic. This is the book I'm reading, The Summer He Didn't Die. It's more of a novella. I know I'm going to hate it when it ends. I like all of Jim Harrison's books. Some of them are listed on the right under my favorite books. So now with a belly full of beef stew and biscuits, I am going to bed to read. It's still 12 below and it's dark. This is enough of this day.

Picture me doing that dance football players do in the end zone after they make a touchdown. Yesterday the temperature was 47 degrees in the afternoon. Today, at 1:29, the temperature was 8 below and the winds were gusting to 25 mph, making for a wind chill of ...TA DA... 39 below. And that, my friends, is an 88 degree difference in the feel of the air (actual temp versus wind chill temp) in two days. Take that Siberia. We get to brag, and dance, about surviving this shit. Tonight I'm having wine and crackers for dinner. Regis had left-over Portuguese stone soup. One of our favorite recipes. I can email the recipe if you ask. For the soup, I mean. I didn't sleep very well last night. With the wind nearly blowing the roof off the house, it was hard to relax. In between the bouts of restless sleep, I had weird dreams. Peter called right before I drifted off, expressing some distress about school. All of his classes are either online or on the television system so he has no inter

Disclaimer: If you know Radiohead and love their music, don’t read this. Or at least don’t be offended. We got this week’s edition of Rolling Stone and there’s a picture of a blond guy with a headline that says The Future Belongs to Radiohead . I assumed Radiohead was the blond dude and I thought the headline was intriguing. How could the future, THE FUTURE, belong to Radiohead and I had never heard of him? The future belongs to Radiohead. I read the article, rather than attempting to talk about this as if I knew something about it which I sometimes do, and discovered the name of the cover lad is Thom Yorke and the name of the band is Radiohead. Ohhhhh. I get it. Then I started thinking about all the bands I haven’t heard of anymore. If you’ve gone by the CD racks at Target, you know what I mean. Who the hell is Radiohead? Now 26? OneRepublic? Maroon 5? There are a couple on the Top 40 list I recognize: Led Zeppelin and Rascal Flatts, the last one only because I made a wedding

Regis and I made pierogies today. We must have been channeling Alice because we had her recipe and when they were all done, Regis said they were just like she made. Oh my God, what a lot of work, though. This is my Grandma Elsie's meat grinder which I have had for years and never used. We had to cook a roast yesterday, then today grind it up with a head of boiled cabbage, two onions, and a pound of bacon. Then we made the dough. Things only got tense once in the eight hours this project took us and that's when we argued about whether to cut the dough circles first and then put them through the pasta roller...or roll the dough first and then cut the circles. I was picturing uncooperative dough but this was very easy to work with so I didn't have to represent my dough views so vociferously. You can see this makes a real mess. After the dough circles were cut, we put put a spoonful of meat in the middle, wet the edges and sealed them up. Regis boiled them in a big pot for 10 m

I've been sitting here in the half-dark, waiting for chicken wings to marinate and the bread to rise. I poured a glass of wine and got into comfortable clothes. Then I looked at my cell phone so I could call someone. Why did the names have little packs of cigarettes or dog houses next to them? Oh...I finally get it. Cell phone or home phone. Life is so complex. I hope I didn't make a grammatical error there with marinate. As much as I can figure out right now, marinade is the noun, what you slop over the wings, and marinate is the verb. I don't want any critical comments so if you have any, keep them to yourself ha ha. My son, Peter, has gotten very formal in his speech and his speech preferences. He says bad grammar bothers him. Some of it bothers me, other stuff I don't give a shit about. I read an article once about all the mistakes people make in their oral and written speech, even very educated people, because mostly we use what we grew up with (sorry to end a sent

It's three degrees this morning. Bill Watterson may have summed it up best. “I like these cold, gray winter days. Days like these let you savor a bad mood.” Paul Douglas says for the last couple weeks, Minnesota has resembled a well-manicured Siberian gulag. These guys look about as happy as most people I've run into lately. Yesterday, I had an appointment across town. About the time I was walking out the door, the guy called and said, "Yeah, I had something come up and I can't make it." I thought, "Sure, dude. You just don't want to walk across campus and get in a cold car when it's fifteen below." Not that I blame him. I made Andouille sausage soup last night. I was worried because it was more of a gumbo process than a soup. The roux was very thick, the recipe called for about three cups of various onions, and then that spicy sausage. It gotr rave reviews, though. I threw in a handful of rice so it was a good hearty soup for a cold night.

It doesn't help to warm a car up in this cold weather. No amount of time really helps. I suppose the engine warms up but nothing remotely warm ever comes out of the vents. I keep waiting for the call that school's closed but I don't think it's coming. All babies, old people, and small dogs should stay in the house where it's warm today! See, even the penguin has decided to stay in bed.

It is too dang cold to be real. It's zero degrees...ZERO DEGREES...here now and now going down to 15 BELOW ZERO tonight. Good grief is all I can say. I came home from work, followed shortly by Regis, and we just quietly got in the car and drove to Patrick's for beer, companionship, and pasta. Two friends from school were in the next pew, I mean booth, so we bought a few rounds, ate some pasta and wandered home. Time to turn on the electric blanket and go to bed. You can't describe accurately the effect on a person's mood of a day that starts with light at 7:30 and ends with dark at 4:30. I know, I know...it's better now than it was a month ago but 8 hours of daylight is ugly. Especially when you spend those daylight hours at work. It's enough to make a guy a little cranky. It must have made the early folks feel a little hopeless...when they hadn't experienced many winters...they must have thought it would never end, that it would always be cold and dark and

It's been a very long day and I feel a lot like this duck must feel. Padded room and straight jacket time, folks. It doesn't help that I don't sleep and it's so dang cold. I told Regis yesterday that I thought I was getting used to it because it didn't even really feel cold anymore at 12 below. Wait a minute. Today felt bitter, wicked cold. My feet were so cold that I stopped on my way to a meeting and bought a pair of fluffy white slippers with rhinestones that I can wear under my desk. A very professional look, don't you think? When I'm awake in the middle of the night, I find new blogs to read. I started out looking for goat blogs which are few and far between. I have discovered quite a few cooking blogs. These are my favorites of the ones who write frequently. It does make you wonder what happens to the people who just quit. Did the computer crash? Did they move? Forget? Find another hobby? Shazam in the Kitchen Smitten Kitchen Use Real Butter Tastes Li

Here's another bread recipe, similar to the first one, but the Dutch oven technique is different and worth a try. The recipe came from Mother Earth News and has you let the dough rise for a long time, then bake it covered. No Knead, Dutch Oven Bread 1⁄4 tsp active dry yeast 1 1⁄2 cups warm water 3 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting. You may use white, whole wheat or a combination of the two. 1 1⁄2 tsp salt Cornmeal or wheat bran for dusting In a large bowl, dissolve yeast in water. Add the flour and salt, stirring until blended. The dough will be shaggy and sticky. Cover bowl with plastic wrap. Let the dough rest at least 8 hours, preferably 12 to 18, at warm room temperature, about 70 degrees. The dough is ready when its surface is dotted with bubbles. Lightly flour a work surface and place dough on it. Sprinkle it with a little more flour and fold it over on itself once or twice. Cover loosely with plastic wrap and let it rest for about 15 minutes. Using just enough f

Here's the roast beef. I cooked it in the crock pot with some caramelized onion, red wine, and beef broth. It was delicious. Here's the finished product. We had hearty white bread and mashed potatoes made with warm milk and butter and gravy made from the stuff in the crock pot. Hard to beat red wine, beef broth, and caramelized onions. I figured out that the secret to caramelized onions is a little sugar. Here's a picture of the present Tom and Betty gave me...the little shot glasses with red spots and the tray. They got three of my favorite things in one present...red, shiny, and glassware. Lovely! The roasted cauliflower was ok but not a hit with Regis . I think it need more cheese which I suppose defeats the purpose of a vegetable. I made roasted cauliflower another time that we liked better. I must have found the recipe in a cookbook because it isn't in my recipe file. Yeah, let me know if you're dying to have it. I expect my mailbox to be flooded. On to the wo

Our next cooking adventure is something called pierogi . It's an Eastern European dumpling that Regis remembers his mother making. Many emails have been exchanged about how to make them: how thick the dough, how big the circles, how to grind the filling. There's a place in Pittsburgh called Pierogies Plus that makes them to sell by mail order. This is one of those little cultural things you learn about when you marry someone who's not from here. In the course of conversations, JB (sister of Regis ) learned we were making beef commercials and asked what that was. It's like the UN of food here today. Here's a picture of pierogi that came right off some Polish website. You have to roll the dough 1/16 of an inch thick so I finally broke down and bought a hand-roller for pasta dough. See the picture above. They make one that attaches to my Kitchen Aid mixer but I'm too cheap for that. Apparently, A

I made sweet rolls with the bread dough and wasn't very happy with them. The dough wasn't sweet and soft like the dough you usually make rolls with that has eggs, milk, and sugar in it, but it was dressed up with lots of brown sugar and butter and pecans. I'll try the dough for bread this week and give the final verdict but so far it's a thumbs-down. We're taking the last of the Christmas stuff to the basement today. Was that our plan last weekend? It didn't happen then, obviously. All that's left is the big tree, the Charlie Brown tree from the porch, and a box of miscellaneous stuff that got left when I packed up the other stuff. I have a beef roast in the crock pot so there isn't much to do this afternoon. Some people would use this time productively but not me. I think it's a good excuse to be lazy.

My first impression of this is not so good. You can do a search on google and find several different recipes for no-knead bread since it's all the rage. Here's one from the NY Times . The recipe I used called for 3 cups of water at 100 degrees, 1.5 T of yeast and 1.5 T of kosher salt, 6.5 cups of flour. Then, instead of kneading it, you mix it with a spoon. It says DO NOT KNEAD. What the heck. Have you ever tried to stir that much flour into that much water? It would be easier to knead it. It's rising now so we'll see how it goes. Updates along the way.

Weather report for Miles: On our roof this morning, it's 12 below zero and the windchill is 26 below zero. Keep that Pategonia bunting on, kiddo. Better yet, stay inside. Regis is sleeping in a little before he goes to a mandatory quarterly meeting. There will be 80 people there and ten of them will bring small kids. He said they run rampant, filling the pop machine money slots with paper and dumping ice from the machines onto the floor. It sounds like hell. We bought our groceries for the week last night then went to Michael's and bought some supplies for our new bracelet hobby. Mom, could you send those buttons? We're anxious to get started but we're approaching this like we do most things...not a lot of planning. So far, we have a little of this and a little of that and we'll learn as we go along. Nothing wrong with that. Our Sunday meal this week is beef commercials. Mashed potatoes, gravy, meat, and bread. It must be what cavemen ate in the winter. I have three

The temperature started out at 12 degrees this morning then dropped like a rock. When I came home from school it was 1 degree and the wind chill is hovering right about 23 below. It's ugly. I did a pile of dishes. I don't know who comes in and messes up my house when I'm gone. Kramer has parties or something. Dogs who eat a lot of snacks and use wine glasses come in here during the day. We're going on Week #2 of my menu planning campaign. So far, so good. No real problems. I ended up with one extra meal that I can make for breakfast or save until next week. I have the menu and the grocery list for next week ready so I can buy those groceries tonight. I know, I know...too much. I did give up on my maintaining a clean house campaign. That's really beyond my capabilities. Our house isn't dirty...but it's not tidy either. A friend of mine said today that everything should have a place. I said all my stuff does have a place...out where I can see it. Hey, we'

Oh, man. I can't believe I didn't check snopes before I fell for this one. Check it out at Snopes, the Urban Legend Reference page: http://www.snopes.com/autos/techno/icon.asp Happy birthday #30 to Young Regis who turns 30 years old today!

This is not scientific, of course, so if you're using my blog as a source for your research paper, I would stop right here. I'm just saying that in my personal wellness plan, dark chocolate counts. This is the creative guide to the food pyramid. Anchovies at the top and chocolate, cheeseburgers, red wine, and pizza at the bottom. Hey, ketchup can be a vegetable. Ronald Reagan said so. It was a long and weird day. I woke up at 2:30 with a nightmare about bad guys coming to a farm house where I was carrying a baby. I peeked through the mini-blinds to see them cocking guns like Chuck Connors in The Rifleman . I had to take the baby to the attic to hide and we rode up on a varnished wooden slide that was actually a cool invention. It was a disturbing dream and I couldn't go back to sleep. When Regis got up, he said he had a dream that we lived in Chagrin Falls, Wisconsin. If there isn't a town in Wisconsin by that name, there should be. I went to my internship class tonight

It's so cold I can't bring myself to wear anything but velvet. It's so warm and soft and surely more socially acceptable than wearing a flannel nightgown and slippers to a meeting. People have such high expectations. It's twenty below, for God's sake. Who cares what you look like? The truth is I was at a meeting before Christmas and everyone had kicked off their shoes at the door. There was a pair of shoes there that looked like the woman who wore them in must have had her feet bound. I'm sure I stood there agog and stared at those shoes with their pointy toes and itty -bitty spikey heels. My shoes weigh about five pounds each and look like something an immigrant would wear on the Oregon trail. I made French onion soup for dinner with big chunks of floating baguette and broiled Swiss cheese. A perfect meal for a cold night. This is Day #3 of my written-down menu campaign. It does eliminate some decision making on the ride home, that's for sure, but Regis a

It's colder than hell here today, Miles. I mean heck. I shouldn't cuss in front of a baby but when the wind chill is 20 below, it's warranted. I was going to a K-12 legislative finances hearing tonight but you get a buy (or is that a bye, sports fans?) when it's this cold. Who cares. We watched A Mighty Heart last night. The reviews were good (Roger Ebert) but we weren't too fond of it. It was a powerful and tragic story but not such a great movie. Tonight we have Amazing Grace . I'm famous for picking clinkers and both of these were my picks. Amazing Grace is the story of William Wilberforce, an 18th-century English politician who fought for the abolition of slavery. It sounds boring but it's very good. Two thumbs up.

I think I have my sleep mojo back. The last two nights I have slept hard...even had dreams and then trouble waking up to the alarm. That never happens. Usually my eyes pop open and I feel like I haven't been asleep at all. I took a nap today that was like being sedated. Let's hope it lasts. Regis and I are back to our weekly cooking. Today we made soft pretzels ( Martha Stewart's recipe ) and white lasagna. The last one is a recipe the success of which remains to be seen. We left out the chicken and the dry white wine and anytime I make adjustments, I get confused. Regis said he'd take pictures so those will be posted later. I'm going to try having a menu for the week and the groceries purchasing done on Sunday. We'll see how that goes since it seems to be in contrast to my random personality. One thing I enjoy is keeping binders of recipes and notes about what went well and what didn't. I think I can do it like that and it won't feel like a chore. Again

The Summer He Didn't Die Jim Harrison Pretty Birds Scott Simon Safekeeping: Some True Stories from a Life Abigail Thomas The Trouble with Poetry and Other Poems Billy Collins Parliament of Whores: A Lone Humorist Attempts to Explain the Entire U. S. Government P. J. O'Rourke, Andrew Ferguson Tracks Louise Erdrich The Grace of Grass and Water: Writing in Honor of Paul Gruchow Thomas Dean (Editor), Carol Bly, Mark Vinz, Paul Gruchow, Bob Artley A Thousand Years Over a Hot Stove: A History of American Women Told through Food, Recipes, and Remembrances Laura Schenone Regis bought me a gift certificate to Barnes and Noble again this year. I don't know of a present I enjoy more. I usually spend an afternoon after Christmas looking at the lists of award winners, new books by favorite authors, picks by staff at favorite bookstores, and online reviews. I have a list of about twenty books at the end and then I go to the store and spend an hour picking out what I want. T

1. My dog curled up on the couch. How a twenty-pound dog can curl into such a tight circle that you can hardly tell where he starts and ends is amazing. He's always happy to see me and even if I just took the garbage down to the curb, he acts like I've been gone for months. 2. The smell of garlic and onions on my hands. I've resisted the urge to buy an electric food chopper. Can't remember the name right now. I know it would be a time saver but there's something about the smell of onions, garlic, and all those other things that take time to mince and chop that I love. 3. Candles. We had our furnace ducts cleaned about ten years ago and the guy wrote on the receipt, "Burns candles"! Holy shit. Like we committed a mortal sin. I love the flicker and the smell and the gentle light. 4. Red wine and chocolate. I just discovered the Lindt Excellence Dark Chocolate with Intense Orange with slivers of almonds. Oh my. With a small glass of red wine, it's heaven

1. Going to Patrick's for dinner and sitting back by the tree. A teacher couple that I know brought their two kids along with them for dinner and allowed them to rampage around the table in the back by the windows. Rampage, I tell you. Loud stomping and crashing into each other. We tried moving to a different table in the lounge area but they still annoyed us so we had to move to the other room. Good grief. 2. Regis eating these monster sourdough pretzels that sound like he's eating gravel with metal teeth. It can't be good for his enamel and it certainly isn't good for my nerve endings. 3. People at workshops who talk in loud voices while the speaker is talking. These people should get forty years of detention in hell. 4. People who are not dumb genetically but are dumb after being educated. There is no excuse. 5. Waking up in the middle of the night with that guy inside who drives the tricycle in tight circles on the threadbare green carpet. The closet of anxieties. T

Insomnia by Billy Collins Even though the house is deeply silent and the room, with no moon, is perfectly dark, even though the body is a sack of exhaustion inert on the bed, someone inside me will not get off his tricycle, will not stop tracing the same tight circle on the same green threadbare carpet. It makes no difference whether I lie staring at the ceiling or pace the living room floor, he keeps on making his furious rounds, little pedaler in his frenzy, my own worst enemy, my oldest friend. What is there to do but close my eyes and watch him circling the night, schoolboy in an ill-fitting jacket, leaning forward, his cap on backwards, wringing the handlebars, maintaining a certain speed? Does anything exist at this hour in this nest of dark rooms but the spectacle of him and the hope that before dawn I can lift out some curious detail that will carry me off to sleep- the watch that encircles his pale wrist, the expandable band, the tiny h

So Regis got a response from the green pants guy. He said he has a box of 96 Crayola crayons and when he wants to describe the color of something, he picks the color that's closest and that's the word he uses. And that's the color of Regis' pants right there in the second row. That must be green. He paid fifteen dollars for them and is inclined to send them back but I think they will make great gag pants. Imagine stepping in the door at Reggie's apartment Saturday for the family birthday dinner in those green pants. Priceless. Or standing in front of Patrick's as the parade goes by on St. Patty's Day. Those are some great green pants. My work day was frustrating and discouraging and made me wish they would strike oil in Stanley and I would become an oil baroness. Most of the time work is a drag and I only go there for the social interaction and the coffee. Well, that last part is a lie because the coffee is pretty bad. When we talk at work about becoming in

Regis buys most of his wardrobe on eBay. They sell new clothes, too, so he doesn't buy used underwear. Today he got a nice pair of Orvis pants that had been 72 dollars. A very nice fabric, nice cut, and only fifteen dollars...but they are leprechaun green. I hooted and said he could wear them to the St. Patrick's Day parade or when he wanted to be camouflaged while mowing the grass. He sent the guy an email: Hey, dude. What's your return policy? I need sunglasses to look at these pants. I walked out of South Elementary this morning, right after a little bit of rainy weather passed through. The sidewalk was icy so I was taking it easy but I did a slooooowwwww motion swan dive to my left knee. Kind of like they do in the Tour of Figure Skating Champions as they wrap up the free-style. One leg behind, one knee, arms raised. I'm sure it was lovely. If there were judges I would have scored a 10.

From www.etsy.com and here's the description: I was thinking of St. Patrick’s Day when I put these vintage and new components together to make this theatrically evocative charm bracelet: old mother of pearl, glass, bone and metal buttons, a green enamel heart (once a post earring), ornamented with rhinestones, stunning green vintage glass sew-on jewels, green glass shamrock beads, an assortment of Czech glass beads and a great stylized Victorian novelty button. The charms are crammed onto two rows of sturdy brass chain; the hardware is a mix of black-toned, copper, old brass and new gold finishes and the bracelet closes with a lobster clasp. Please note that some of the items are vintage and are re-purposed from their original existences; they show a little wear but you’d have to look hard to see it. Looks like a great place to shop!

I'm taking a short break from my manic workaholism (don't worry...it's short-lived) to read some blogs. Man, some of you people need to get back to the keyboard. I moved a few of you to the end of the blog list, right below the blog called Buster and Pinky: Superdogs of the Internet . That's Pinky, a French bulldog, to the left. I also read This Goat's Life regularly. In fact, the other night I scanned through a slideshow and I knew the name of almost every goat pictured. (That blog is updated frequently and it keeps my interest hint hint.) Of course, the '08 kids will start showing up soon so the farmer won't have time to write. The farmer is a good writer and tells some great stories about the goats' adventures. I've learned a lot about goat farming, too, which you never know may come in handy one day. I also like the blog called The Lope . It's named after an antelope figure that appears in a lot of the pictures. The person who writes it has

Larry suggested that I streak around the block in the nude today, soaking up the rays, if I continued to struggle with the malaise. Thank God the sun isn't shining so I don't have to try. Ed Lee covers athletic events for the Herald, but this would not be one. I'm not even sure streak would be the correct verb. I got up early and commenced cleaning and organizing. I did a load of dishes, Regis started the laundry (it helps my mood to see him busy), and finished the Christmas de-construction. I do feel better. Now I'm going to tackle the paper mess. It's amazing how fast that stuff piles up.

I woke up at 4 this morning, made some coffee and sat in a chair in the living room until 8. That's a lot of time to squander. We went to Mankato for a while, I took a nap, but haven't done one constructive thing all day. Does this sound like a replay of my Christmas vacation? Right now, we're waiting for a pizza to be delivered while we watch Simon and Garfunkel in Central Park. I've had that awful song Delta Dawn going through my head all day and had to do something to wipe the slate clean. Really, tomorrow I'll do something. At seven o'clock this morning, it was still black as night outside. At five o'clock this afternoon, it was dark as night again. This is not good for a person's mood. You can fight it with candles and Christmas tree lights and wine, but these are long and cold winter nights. Tiffany is leaving for Minneapolis after work tonight and I'm going to miss her. This could account for some of my dark mood, too, I guess. If we win the

I've been waiting for news of the Minnesota Poet Laureate since Mom and I nominated Bob Bengtson. When I did a search for news this morning, I found the original bill introduced in the legislature last January, written in poem form. H.F. No. 224, as introduced - 85th Legislative Session (2007-2008) Posted on Jan 18, 2007 1.1 A bill for an act 1.2 relating to the state; appointing a poet laureate; appropriating gift or grant money 1.3 received; proposing coding for new law in Minnesota Statutes, chapter 138. 1.4 BE IT ENACTED BY THE LEGISLATURE OF THE STATE OF MINNESOTA: 1.5 Section 1. [138.99] POET LAUREATE. 1.6 Subdivision 1. Appointment. 1.7 The Gov' shall appoint a state poet laureate, 1.8

We celebrated Ella's 2nd birthday with her on New Year's Day. She seemed to have a good grasp of what that meant...presents, candles, and the birthday song. She loved her doll stroller and had Baby Powder strapped in it right away so they could motor around the house. She calls everybody sweetie now. Thanks, Sweetie. Bye-bye, Sweetie. I went back to work Wednesday which made for a short week. It wasn't traumatic, in fact, probably good to get some structure back in my life and I've gotten more done since I went back to work. I miss the naps, though. One of Ella's presents was a book called The Napping House . The review says: The misty blue artwork that chronicles the "dreaming child," "snoring granny" and a number of additional snoozers seems to bleed off the pages, until that "wakeful flea" disrupts the sleepers and the sunny colors signal the end of naptime. A perfect book for Ella and Nana.

iTunes , Barnes and Noble online, and Netflix . I used to spend a lot of time looking for books, music and movies with no idea what I wanted. I made a lot of mistakes. Now with modern technology, my tastes can be compared to others and recommendations made for me based on our similarities. I may never have to watch a movie like Joe Versus the Volcano again, read a book like Echoes by Danielle Steele or buy a CD that ends up being a coaster. I’m not saying it’s never going to happen, just that the risk is minimized. And I won't have to wear that button that says DO NOT RENT VIDEOS TO THIS WOMAN to the video store again. The realization that I’m not going to have a clean and organized house. It’s really taken a burden off to know this and to say it out loud. Kathy’s tried to help and we did make some progress but the stress is overwhelming. Regis and I are not good at getting all like things in one place. Say socks, for example. It’s really not a bad thing to be disorganized and I