Lost idols...

What was up with TV on Wednesday night? First, we have Chris Sligh sent home on American Idol. That was just wrong. Chris was the best male singer on the show this year, and one of the very few contestants who had a strong personality from day one. He never had a bad performance, but the judges made up a “weakness” for him – they were continually telling him that he was off tempo. Even when he wasn’t. (I’m not sure Paula can even correctly deduce a rhythm in her perpetual drug-induced haze…) Sure, I suppose his rendition of “Every Little Thing She Does is Magic” was a bit ho-hum, but so were most of the performances on Tuesday night…

Well, that does it, then. I’m voting for Sanjaya from now on. For two reasons – first, because his hair is just so darn pretty (and can, apparently, be coaxed into imitating a rooster… that in itself is quite impressive…). But also because I’m sick of people hating him because he’s quiet. Because that’s it – that’s the reason everyone says he sucks. It’s not that he can’t sing, because he CAN (and he did quite well with that Gwen Stefani song the other night). People hate him because he’s quiet. Yeah, let’s all hate the quiet people! Quiet people suck! Quiet people shouldn’t be allowed to sing because they aren’t capable of bursting people’s eardrums! What no one seems to realize is that quiet people are so quiet because we’re constantly THINKING… you have no idea what’s going on inside these brains of ours. We’re plotting… planning… scheming… and one day we shall rule the world. And loud people won’t even see it coming, because they’re all so busy listening to the melodic sound of their own voices…

Uh, where was I? Oh yeah… so I’m gonna start voting for Sanjaya of the Pretty Hair. And if he actually did manage to win, Rick pointed out that he would be filling a niche – we have no Indian-American pop stars in this country, do we? Well, we have Norah Jones… but is she really a pop star? She sort of has her own kind of sound… she’s less “pop” and more “Norah Jones.” And after her debut album, she kinda started fading into the background. Once you’ve heard the “Norah Jones” sound, you’ve heard it. It was new and fresh at first, but now it’s old news. Get Sanjaya into a studio with plenty of microphones and the proper mix of voice versus instruments, and he’d be a big hit. Plus he could create his own line of hair-care products…

And then after that American Idol vote-off show, I watched that crazy episode of Lost. Did anyone watch the crazy episode of Lost? The backstory this week focused on Nikki and Paulo, who, up until this week, I’ve been calling “who?” and “who?”. These two characters were non-existent for the first two seasons of Lost, and then this season they just started popping up in random episodes for absolutely no reason whatsoever. They were like people who just show up at a party uninvited, and everyone is too nice to ask them to leave… so there’s this awkward attempt to include them, even though no one really knows why they’re there to begin with, and no one really WANTS them there anyway. In fact, Paulo had so few speaking lines throughout the season that I didn’t even realize he had an accent until Wednesday’s episode. (Oh… what’s-his-name is Brazilian… I didn’t know that…)

And at the beginning of the episode, some of the regular Losties – the ones we’ve come to know and love – find the two Lostie interlopers dead in the jungle. So at that point, I figured the writers had introduced these two boring characters for the sole purpose of killing them off. Seems to happen a lot on the show. People are introduced, they’re in a few episodes, they get killed off. Happened to Ana Lucia (I was glad to see her go…) and Mr. Eko (I was NOT glad to see him go… they could’ve done so much more with his character…). And now, in an episode that was proving to me that the writers make everything up as they go along, it was happening to Nikki and Paulo.

But wait – at the end of the episode, we see a flashback to what actually happened to these two. It was a spider bite – a scary, creepy spider that curiously no one else on the island has ever run across. And the bite of this spider doesn’t KILL you – oh no, it just paralyzes you. It renders you completely helpless and immobile. It makes you APPEAR dead, even to a trained physician. (Of course, the only trained physician on the island is out playing football with the Others, so he wasn’t much help anyway…) But seeing as everyone assumed Nikki and Paulo were dead, the Losties did exactly what they’ve become so used to doing with all the dead people on the island. They dug graves and buried them in the sand. Just as Nikki was finally regaining movement and managed to open her eyes. Yes, that’s right. THEY BURIED THEM ALIVE!!! Argh!!!! How horrible is THAT?? And since that’s the way the episode ended, we don’t know yet if Nikki and Paulo were able to dig their way out of that sand, or if they’ve now succumbed to suffocation.

Yeah, Wednesday night is just a crazy TV night. I should go read a book…

The great escape...

Well, I took those mourning dove pictures just in time – they flew away this morning. They were still there when I woke up, and I was watching them right before I left to get coffee – the mom mourning dove was feeding the babies, and they were all doing this really funny “bob and weave” sort of thing. It was like a silly little bird hip hop dance. And then when I got back from Seattle’s Best with my coffee, I went to the window to see if they’d progressed to country line dancing or salsa, and they were all gone. They flew away really fast. The phoebes on the back porch sometimes take all day to figure out how to fly…

Anyway… moving on… I watched a really interesting documentary about Harry Houdini yesterday. (This is not to be confused with boring, vague, poorly-researched documentaries such as Al Gore’s An Inconvenient Truth, which I also watched a few days ago and which provoked a reaction of, “seriously? This thing won an Oscar? SERIOUSLY??” But that’s an entire blog post in itself…) But Harry Houdini – very interesting guy. Not only could he break out of just about anything, but he freely admitted there was no “magic” involved – only his own abilities. And he was greatly annoyed by sub-par copycats and people who DID claim to use “magic” or “psychic power.” He especially reviled spiritualists and mediums – anyone who tried to con people into believing they could “speak” to the dead. Houdini would challenge any spiritualist he crossed paths with – and, inevitably, he would easily expose their trickery and be able to recreate their “proof” of communication with the spirit world.

The documentary reminded me of a class I was required to take back in high school. When I was a sophomore, we all had to take a half semester of “death and dying.” Such a cheery subject for a bunch of fifteen-year-olds. I guess they just wanted to remind us of our own mortality before they set us loose with the driver’s ed cars (we were required to take this class right before we were required to take driver’s ed…). Toward the end of the semester, we were all given different topics to write about for a final paper. My project was to research how several different famous people had died. I could choose any famous people I wanted… I can’t remember who else I wrote about, but one of the people I chose was Houdini. Houdini died from a ruptured appendix – possibly aggravated by repeated blows to the stomach. And he was not hit out of malicious intent – he allowed a young fan to hit him in the stomach, because apparently Houdini was known as an “indestructible” kind of guy. He would allow people to hit him in the stomach, just to prove how strong he was. Of course, this time he was already silently suffering from appendicitis (I guess “strong” guys don’t admit pain?), so even if the blows to the stomach didn’t actually cause the appendix to burst (most doctors think it had probably already happened at that point), it could NOT have been a pleasant experience. But stubborn Houdini refused any medical treatment, even after passing out in the middle of a performance, with a 104 degree fever. He came to, actually FINISHED the show, and only then did he seek medical attention. But of course at that point it was too late. Back in 1926, there was really nothing that could be done for a massive infection of that type.

It’s interesting that this man who could escape anything – chains, ropes, handcuffs, underwater coffins, boxes of any shape or size – finally succumbed to a silly, little, useless vestigial organ. I mean, if he had died from drowning or falling off a bridge or suffocating in a box, it would’ve made perfect sense. And, in fact, many people mistakenly assume that Houdini must’ve died performing one of his death-defying tricks. But nope – he continually defied death with his tricks. He only met his match in that pesky appendix.

What’s really funny is that every year since his death, fellow magicians and Houdini fans have gathered to perform a séance in an attempt to contact his spirit. What’s even funnier is that he died on Halloween – this man, who spent much of his career debunking the “powers” of psychics and mediums, is now the object of their search. And, ironically, he died on the one day of the year when people are most likely to assume they can speak to the dead. He’s never shown up, of course. And honestly – even if he COULD speak from beyond the grave, do you think he really would? Like he’d want to admit he was wrong about the whole “psychic contact with the great beyond” thing…

At the end of the documentary, a famous magician (whose name escapes me at the moment) demonstrated how a person can work their way out of a straightjacket. Useful information, if, like me, you assume you’ll be committed some day. I’m ready now… bring on the men in the white coats…

Birds

A few weeks ago, I discovered that the phoebe was not the only bird who had a nest near my house. According to my bird-brained mom (and by "bird-brained" I mean my mom has lots of bird books :)) this is a mourning dove:

This was a few weeks ago, and I took the picture through my window so I wouldn't scare the bird.

This was yesterday, when one of the baby birds (who appears to be almost as big as Mom Bird) was finally flapping around outside the nest. I took this one through the window again, but then I decided to venture outside and see if I could get closer...

And I was surprised that she actually let me get this close without flying away. You can only see one of the baby birds in this picture...

But I went outside again today (where you can see it's nice and sunny, as opposed to yesterday when we got repeated downpours...) and was able to get a picture of the mom bird and both babies. Although this time I was only able to snap three pictures before the mom bird flew away and sat on the fence to get away from the crazy human with the camera. And then as I was walking back into the house, a phoebe, who has been sitting on the nest in the corner of the back porch, took off from the nest to avoid my return to the house and perched on the fence. So I took a few pictures of her, too. This is my favorite one, because I think it shows us what would happen if we asked a phoebe for directions to the nearest Starbucks:

"Well, see, ya gotta go down Parmer, and take a right at the HEB... it's right there in the shopping center... can't miss it..."

Is it drafty in here?

Okay, I made it through the fantasy baseball draft – less than a week until opening day! I SO can not wait for baseball to start again. Drafting a new fantasy team was sort of like rounding up a bunch of co-workers to help with a big project. You might know some of them pretty well, and you might be slightly familiar with the work of others, but a few are just new people you picked at random. And when it’s all said and done, you HOPE this group will work well together…

I wasn’t as happy with my team this year immediately after the draft, but the more I look at it, the more I’m starting to like it. I think I made some decent picks in my number 9 spot (which was a rather strange place to choose, to be honest… there seemed to be many times when it would seem too early to pick a certain player, but by the time it was back to my turn, it would be too LATE to pick the same player. Oh well… I tried to make the best of it…) I’m pretty happy with my first baseman (Justin Morneau – he beat out Derek Jeter for last year’s AL MVP, so he’d better be good…). I like my shortstop (no, not Jeter, unfortunately – Michael Young… not too bad. He hit .314 last year and had 103 RBIs…) and my third baseman (Garrett Atkins… .329 last year… 120 RBIs… 29 homeruns…). My outfield is so-so, but I’m hoping for good things from Carlos Lee, who moved from Milwaukee to Houston last year. That alone should make anyone play better… even I would play better if I moved from Milwaukee to Houston…

As far as pitching, I’ve got C.C. Sabathia, who I’m really happy with. Even though I know there are naysayers out there who think it was a mistake to take him. But I still have faith in him, even if every time he pitches I worry he’ll succumb to a heart attack, brought on by his obvious love of cheeseburgers. I was impressed last year with his six complete games and two shutouts, plus his 172 strikeouts in 28 games. And hopefully he’ll have a few more games this year, since he sat out the first few weeks last season with an oblique injury. I also have Matt Cain, who throws a lot of strikes, but also needs to lower his ERA – he’s young, so there’s room to improve. Plus Dontrelle Willis and Andy Pettitte (my token Yankee). I’m expecting good things from Pettitte this year (c’mon Pettitte!!). I’m especially happy with my two closers – Joe Nathan and Billy Wagner – because as I learned last year, closers can be a very valuable supplement to pitching when your pitchers are lagging…

After the draft, our Fearless Fantasy Baseball Leader Tim likes to send out his “predictions” of who’ll finish where in the league. His prediction this year is that I’ll come in ninth and Rick will finish eighth. Now, just to compare – last year, Tim “predicted” that Rick would finish last, and I would be either seventh or eighth (I can’t remember which one). Can we all remember how things ended up? Let’s review, shall we: I finished second and kicked eight guys’ butts. Rick finished fourth. Tim obviously knows exactly what he’s talking about. And here’s an interesting fact: the last two years, Tim has consistently “predicted” that HE would finish third. Hmmm… third, huh? That’s just far enough away from first place to not “seem” conceited, yet high enough of a prediction to say, “I’m obviously better at this than most of you.” Honestly, I think anyone could have drafted anyone and Tim’s predictions wouldn’t change much… and actually, I LIKE that prediction of ninth place. I’m fine with that prediction. Because it’s always better to be UNDERestimated than OVERestimated. It gives me a lot of room to move up...

But I will admit that toward the end of the draft, I barely even knew who I was choosing. Not only was I practically falling asleep at my computer, but many of the players remaining were guys I’d barely heard of. I mean, I think I may have accidentally drafted one of Angelina Jolie’s adopted kids, and possibly a Radio City Music Hall Rockette (is there an MLB player named Julie?? I just don’t know…). But regardless, I can’t wait for opening day, and I can’t wait to watch the Yankees this year – it’s funny how much I miss baseball when it’s gone. And this fantasy baseball stuff makes it even more fun…

I just hope Angelina Jolie’s Vietnamese kid knows how to hit a ball…

It's draft day!

Argh! Four hours until fantasy baseball draft!!

Feeling totally unprepared...

Can't remember the name of any players...

Too... much... anxiety...

What's a shortstop? WHAT'S A SHORTSTOP??

I'mgonnaloseI'mgonnaloseI'mgonnaloseI'mgonnalose...

Okay, hold on, deep breath...

Positive thoughts...

Shortstop = Derek Jeter...

That's better.

Yes, I can do this. Again.

Maybe...

The Curry Incident of 2007

So on Lost last night, we discovered that Locke’s own father was the reason for his paralysis. He shoved him right out an eight-story window. (That’s not a very nice thing to do to the guy who gave you a kidney…) I’m starting to see a bit of a pattern on the show… I think… I mean, it’s so hard to tell what’s a pattern and what’s not when it comes to Lost. But I think perhaps this crazy island is The Island of Familial Strife. Because doesn’t it seem like just about everyone has some sort of family issue? Bad relationships with dads, especially… Jack and his alcoholic dad; Kate and the abusive dad she killed (plus her unsympathetic step-dad); Claire and her totally absent dad who also turned out to be Jack’s dad; Sun’s evil dad who never thought Jin was good enough for her; Hurley’s dad who walked out on him when he was a kid and decided to pop back into his life when he won the lottery; and now Locke’s conman dad who tries to kill him… and even the Others have some weird dad issues – like the fact that Alex’s dad is the guy running the place, and she doesn’t like him very much. It just seems like “bad relationships with family” is a running theme. Or maybe just “bad relationships” in general… because then I could toss in Charlie and Sayid and Sawyer…

Anyway… so the other day I was watching Rachel Ray on the Food Network. I can’t stand Rachel Ray. She annoys me to no end. Every time she says the word “delish” I want to smack her. “Oooo… this smells so delish… this will taste so delish when it’s done… I just think hamburgers are so delish…” Argh – shut UP, already. Can’t you just say “delicious”? Heck, I’d even take “yummy.” And that’s not the only thing that annoys me about Rachel Ray’s show – just the very concept of a “30-minute meal” annoys me. Because most of what she cooks on her show is a far cry from 30 minutes start to finish. Unless you have a sous chef to follow you around and do all the prep work and clean up. I have no doubt that most of the COOKING takes less than 30 minutes – but what about all the washing and chopping and dicing and defrosting and peeling and subsequent cleaning? Once it’s all said and done, you’re looking at at least an hour of work…

But that’s not the point of this ramble… the point is that I happened to catch the end of her show the other day, and she had just made a vegetable curry. Which sounded really good to me. I went to the Food TV website and found the recipe, but instead of copying it exactly (I didn’t have all the ingredients) I decided to make some substitutions. Her recipe called for eggplant (I hate eggplant so I never buy it), but I just tossed in whatever vegetables I had on hand. Her recipe also called for two tablespoons of curry paste and some fresh ginger – I only have various jars of curry powder and ground ginger. So to make a “paste” I added a bit of olive oil, until I had what appeared to be about a tablespoon of curry/ginger paste (I didn’t want to start with too much spice…). I threw it in the pan with my vegetables, and let the whole thing simmer.

After a while, I tasted a potato to see if it was done, and was surprised by how spicy it was. Especially considering I’d only added a tablespoon of curry powder. Well, I thought, maybe it was just that one particular bit of potato. And it wasn’t so spicy I couldn’t handle it… so I dished the whole thing up over some rice, and took a plate to Rick, with a warning that, “it might be really spicy… sorry…” (Meanwhile, back in the kitchen, unbeknownst to me, the paint was peeling off the wall…)

I started in on my own plate, and after a couple bites, realized it was NOT just that one bit of potato that had been so spicy. The whole thing seemed to be curiously, extraordinarily spicy. I struggled my way through as much as I could, but eventually, after my tastebuds had whittled away (and my sinuses were refreshingly clear), I began to hallucinate and was certain I saw Rachel Ray standing in the corner of my living room, pointing and laughing. I had to stop eating. Needless to say, Rick and I eventually went out to find some ice cream. I mean, it wasn’t because we WANTED ice cream… it was a necessary remedy to the strangely spicy curry. Rick told me I should move to India and torment the inhabitants with my fiery cooking. Because he’s certain that even Indians have never eaten anything so spicy…

So the Curry Incident of 2007, not unlike the Soy Sauce Incident of the 90’s, was a learning experience. I am now able to make great stir fry without adding too much soy sauce – and since the vegetable curry would’ve tasted great if I’d actually been ABLE to taste it, I’ll know to cut the amount of curry the next time I try it. (I wonder if curry powder is spicier than curry paste??? I’m still trying to figure out why it was so abnormally spicy, as I’ve used the powder on chicken many times without destroying my tastebuds…)

So who wants to come to my house for dinner? Anyone? Oh, c’mon, it won’t be THAT bad…

Shut up...

Happy first day of spring, everyone. It’s rather dreary here today – not very spring-like. Or maybe it IS spring-like, since we need the rain, and rain makes things like flowers and grass and trees grow, and flowers and grass and trees are all springy, blah blah blah. Yeah, so the dreary, rainy, cloudy sky is actually a harbinger of a new, warmer season. Hmmm… somehow that doesn’t make it any less gloomy…

So, it turns out I was not the only one to escape jury duty unscathed this week. My mom had to go to the municipal building in downtown Austin yesterday morning. Since we live within the Austin city limits, but we’re in Williamson county, apparently they can call us up to Georgetown OR down to Austin. And mom and I thought it was a bit of a conspiracy that we were both called on consecutive days. I know it’s all supposed to be “random,” but that’s kinda weird, isn’t it? Anyway, my mom’s group of jurors was told that half of the litigants who were supposed to show up yesterday HADN’T shown up (we all remember what a “litigant” is, right? That’s right: a cute little innocent puppy dog who just wants to go for a walk in the park… and since half of them didn’t bother showing up, I’m sure the APD dogcatchers are out looking for them as I type…). And the other half didn’t feel like facing a jury. So once again, the jury wasn’t even needed and everyone got to go home. But it was a tense couple days, not knowing if mom or I would be chosen to serve on the jury of some high-profile trial – so high-profile that we’d all have to be sequestered in a cheesy Holiday Inn somewhere… and one by one, something bad would start happening to all the jurors, and eventually someone would realize I’d wanted to be on the jury all along… no, wait – that’s Runaway Jury by John Grisham. Nevermind…

The last few weeks have been so busy – what with Eric visiting, and proofreading work, and the specter of jury duty haunting me on a daily basis – that I almost forgot that this Saturday is the fantasy baseball draft. And I have no idea who I’m going to choose for my first pick. It’ll depend on who the eight guys ahead of me choose, of course… I’m hoping the first eight people will take Eric’s advice and pick a bunch of Montreal Expos players. That would leave all the good players for me…

Anyway… who watched American Idol last night? Overall, I thought everyone did better last night than last week. But something is really bothering me about this show – actually, it’s not just American Idol, it’s pretty much society in general. What bothers me is the obvious mockery directed toward quiet people, coupled with the obvious favoring of loud people. And it doesn’t matter if the quiet people have interesting things to say, or if they’re talented, or if they’re intelligent – all that seems to matter is the introverted personality. And in the same way, it doesn’t matter if loud people have anything interesting to say, or if they’re talented, or if they’re intelligent – all that matters is their extroverted personalities. It all comes down to quiet and loud. On American Idol this year, the perfect example of this has been Sanjaya Malakar. Poor little Sanjaya, who’s only 17 years old and who has prettier hair than I have (that’s just wrong…), is the quietest singer of all the contestants. He is NOT, however, the WORST singer of the contestants. In fact, most of his songs have been spot on as far as pitch and tone are concerned – but his volume has been lacking, and so he’s been panned by every critic in the country. And then last night, in an attempt to break out some volume, he sang quite horribly – but also pretty much shouted the entire time. And guess what? The judges gave him the best feedback he’s had all season. Randy even said it was his “best performance” so far. (What??? Did you even HEAR that?) It just proved my point – all anyone cares about is “quiet” versus “loud”…

And of course Sanjaya of the Pretty Hair is not going to win – there are too many powerful, good singers in the competition. I just find it ridiculous for the judges to say over and over, “that was horrible” or “it sounded really bad” when what they REALLY mean is, “your voice is too quiet.” And then to say last night’s performance was “good,” when obviously it was just LOUD. It’s the same thing I’ve been hearing my entire life: loud = good, quiet = bad. I’m quiet, therefore I’m not as good or important or interesting or talented or intelligent as a loud person. The message comes through LOUD and clear.

It was funny when Sanjaya was singing last night, and they showed that little girl in the audience who was crying. I was thinking, “awww… isn’t that cute… that girl has a crush on Sanjaya…” I figured all her friends would either make fun of her in school today (because her teary face was all over national television), or they’d be really jealous because he gave her a hug when he was finished singing. Except then I noticed at the end of the show, the little girl was STILL crying when Melinda was singing… and then it was clear – she didn’t have a crush on Sanjaya, she was just REALLY excited to be at the American Idol show. And again, I have to figure she’s either having a really BAD day in school today (because kids are horrible little cruel things) or a really GOOD day – because she was invited on stage at the end of the show to hug EVERYONE. She got to meet all the American Idol contestants. So if her jealous classmates give her a hard time about the crying, at least she can hold that over their heads…

It’s funny, isn’t it – that I really am SO quiet, and yet I can still write six paragraphs about nothing? Most people just chatter away about nothing in their loud, extroverted voices all day… so I’m just playing catch-up… :)

Next time, I want at least $7.50...

It’s about noon and my civic duty has already been completed. Everyone do a happy dance with me (really, I was just jumping around the kitchen a couple minutes ago, pumping my hands in the air like Rocky…). But since I anticipated a long day of who-knows-what, I made sure to take a journal with me to record every thrilling moment. So here’s the play-by-play, as transcribed from what I wrote:

**********

The sign outside says “jury call,” which I can’t help but notice is quite similar to “cattle call.” And the line IS ridiculously long – exactly how many juries are being chosen today? This is Georgetown, for goodness’ sake… Williamson County… it’s not Austin – nothing HAPPENS in Georgetown… nothing happens in this entire COUNTY. It’s a county full of livestock and farms and tiny little so-called towns, where most of the crime is cow-related. Do they honestly need this many people for juries?

Once I breeze through security (fortunately I managed to dress appropriately – a habit retained from my year and a half at the lawfirm… I got tired of setting off the metal detector on my daily visits to the courthouse with Red the crazy courier… I learned which outfits I could wear, and which ones would unfailingly set off the detector) I am directed to a huge room full of rows of red chairs, and instructed to “sit anywhere.” As I look over the sea of faces (from my vantage point it seems every seat is already occupied) I begin to wander aimlessly toward the back of the room, make a left at the very last row (I can’t go any further, anyway) and finally settle on the empty chair in the very back corner of the room. I am now as invisible as I can be in this large space. I can see everyone – I can see the back of each head and the hood of each sweatshirt and the stripe on each shirt – yet no one can see me. Perfect. Well, as perfect as this can get…

Some woman in a green dress has begun to make announcements – she just said something about how the people upstairs know that there are a bunch of jurors downstairs who are “willing and able” to serve as jurors on their cases. (Um, when did I say I was willing and able?) She explains that they really ARE only looking for one or two juries today, so our chances of actually being chosen are pretty slim. Which, Green Dress Lady says, is “good news for a lot of you, and not so good for some of you.” Well, if it’s such GOOD news for some people, then why aren’t THEY the ones who are here all the time? Just wondering…

10 o’clock am, and so far we’ve done nothing. Except fill out a “jury payment receipt” to say we’ve received our “payment” for being here today. Which amounts to a whopping six dollars. Wow. I wonder if paying me NOTHING would be less of an insult… Well, at least I can buy a cup of coffee on the way home. (And by the way, we have NOT yet received our six bucks, even though they’re telling us to sign this paper saying we HAVE… lying in the courthouse already… this day is off to a good start…)

Green Dress Lady has informed us that we are to be observing courtroom behavior while we are here, which means “gentlemen should remove their hats, cell phones should be on silent and there should be no use of electronic devices of any kind.” From my corner vantage point I can see a guy defiantly wearing a knit ski cap and listening to an iPod. Yeah. Fight the system, dude.

Ah, the judge has appeared. He wants us to say the pledge of allegiance to the American flag AND the pledge of allegiance to the Texas flag. Wait – there’s a pledge of allegiance to the Texas flag?? Only about ten people seem to actually know it, so I don’t think I’m alone in asking this question. The judge sounds like George W. Bush. I wish he’d say nuclear, just so I could compare… But instead, he starts giving a little speech about how amazing our justice system is. He talks about how he always WISHED he could be on a jury when he was a lawyer, but they’d never let him, because, of course, he was a lawyer. And now that he’s a judge, he’ll never fulfill his dream of serving on a jury. He finds juries mysterious and reverent. This guy is REALLY enamored with our legal system. When he’s finished with his legal love-fest, he asks for people who have “hardship” excuses to stand – I think about half the people in the room just stood up. Oh c’mon – you don’t ALL have “hardships,” you liars. Apparently there are three too many people standing, because the judge asks very nicely if three people would be willing to sit down… otherwise he’ll have to listen to everyone’s excuses and decide which ones are valid or not. Three people reluctantly sit down, and everyone else who’s standing is free to go. I’ve decided that a “hardship” excuse just means “taking the easy way out.” Why didn’t I stand with all those liars? Why?? Why oh why oh why?? Me and my stupid honesty…

**********

At this point, they called the first group of people, who were to report back to one of the courts in the afternoon. I was about the fourth person they called. They had us pick up our very generous six dollars, and then we were free to leave until 1:30. I couldn’t help but think it was rather cruel to give me that temporary taste of freedom, knowing I’d be heading right back after lunch. I got home a little after 11, and checked the phone to see if there’d been any calls. There was only one, and it was a number I didn’t recognize. It must have JUST come in, because it was only after I’d gotten settled back in at home that I noticed the message light blinking. So I hit the message button… it was someone from the District Court… their defendant pled out (or was that bled out? Was he severely injured? Oh, who cares, same result)… they didn’t need a jury anymore… I was no longer needed… I DIDN’T HAVE TO GO BACK!! (Enter happy dance…)

So that was my morning. I am quite happy at the moment. I managed to remain completely honest (unlike those "hardship" liars...) and I didn’t even have to answer any questions. I was, and shall remain, invisible… until they find me again…

Guilty, guilty, guilty...

Rick and I watched that movie “Stranger Than Fiction” last night – the one where Will Ferrell hears the voice of a writer narrating his life. It was interesting to see Will Ferrell in something that was sort of half comedy/half drama, instead of his usual strictly-comedic performances. And I actually liked the movie a lot – it delved into the whole process of writing, and the frustrations of writer’s block, and the strange places one might look for inspiration. And I loved Dustin Hoffman’s caffeine-addicted character. When we first see him, he takes a cup of coffee into a bathroom at the college where he works (and keeps right on drinking), then moves out to a coffee machine in the hallway to buy another cup, and then, not ten seconds later, he opens the door to his office – where a pot of coffee is brewing in the corner. He’s like the coffee-equivalent of a chain-smoker.

Anyway, the movie was a good distraction to get my mind off the fact that I must head up to the Williamson County Justice Center tomorrow morning. This whole jury duty thing has been tormenting me for the last week and a half. (And by the way, don’t they usually give you MORE than a week and half’s notice? Don’t they usually give you plenty of time to buy a plane ticket to Borneo, and then you can make a phone call from Borneo, and you can say “hey, I’m in Borneo! I’ll send ya a post card, but I certainly can’t show up for jury duty! Oh well! See ya later! Borneo rules!” Huh? Don’t they usually give you plenty of run-away-to-Borneo time??) Rick is quite convinced that I’ll be selected for a jury, as I’m such a nice, “balanced” person. Although I’m not sure I would call myself “balanced”… struggling to be balanced, perhaps, and frequently missing the mark… but certainly not always balanced… Maybe I should say I APPEAR to be balanced, and since I won’t be spending a whole lot of time with these people tomorrow, they’ll never really know who I am… and that’s just kind of strange to me…

I’ve been given all kinds of advice for avoiding selection: When asked a question, I should say, “I need to converse with the voices in my head before I can answer that”; I should show up dressed like a hippy and banging a tambourine; when I walk into the courtroom, I should start chanting “guilty, guilty, guilty”; I should make sure everyone knows my younger brother is a police officer, or, conversely, I should make sure everyone knows my older brother had plenty of run-ins with the law when he was younger. (Darn it… I really AM too balanced…)

And then there’s the question of what to wear – the summons says I should “be dressed in clothing reasonably befitting the dignity and solemnity of the court proceedings.” Uh, okay. What do I have in my closet that says “dignified and solemn”? Should I dress all in black? Do I need to look like a widow in mourning? Should I throw on a lace veil for good measure? Or are we talking less “mourning” and more “high tea with the queen”? A ruffled dress and white gloves, perhaps? A little hat with a fabric flower? Will there be cucumber sandwiches with the crusts cut off? And what if MY idea of “court proceedings” is different than whoever sends out these summons? I mean, what if, when I think “court proceedings” I’m thinking “ridiculous circus”? And exactly how long would I be free to walk around in my clown costume before they tossed me in jail? So many questions…

I’m also slightly disturbed by one small bit of information included on this summons. I’m supposed to fill out the little questionnaire on the back with my name, address, phone number, etc. Okay, no big deal. And then I read this sentence at the top of the questionnaire: “Your answers are confidential, and may be disclosed only to the judge, court personnel, the litigant, and the litigant’s attorney.” Wait, hold on – the litigant? Isn’t that, like, the person who did the bad thing (I’m sorry – allegedly did the bad thing) and whose fate may now rest with a bunch of strangers who’ve been forced to give the bad person (I’m sorry, again – alleged bad person) their NAMES and ADDRESSES?? How do I know that if I send this (alleged) bad person off to prison (at which time it will be apparent that said person IS, in fact, bad), he or she will not spend their locked-up time compiling a concise list of all those jurors who obviously misunderstood the entire situation, so that Bad Person can, once released, show up at each juror’s doorstep to “explain” more clearly?? I mean, providing the person on trial with names and addressees of everyone on the jury can NOT be an intelligent thing, right? Am I completely missing something? Am I using the word “litigant” in the wrong way? Maybe a litigant is something else entirely… maybe a litigant is a cute little innocent puppy dog who just wants to go for a walk in the park…

Ugh… all I know is that my stomach is already tying itself into “don’t make me do this” knots of impending doom. I guess I should go iron my clown costume…

Going out for coffee...

So Lost on Wednesday night was just crazy. So many questions were running through my head as the episode ended – Claire used to be goth? Sawyer AND Eric are both reading Ayn Rand right now? Claire’s mom is in a coma? The Others have some kind of weird supersonic security system? Jack is playing football with the Others?? Claire and Jack are BROTHER AND SISTER??? Actually, I wasn’t totally surprised by that realization – I mean, the writers have already pretty firmly established the fact that everyone on this island is connected to at least one or two other people on the island. But doesn’t it make you wonder if anyone else is related? Hmmm… maybe there’s a reason Desmond calls everyone “brother”…

Well, I completely lost my train of thought on whatever I was writing about when I started this (ha! I LOST my train of thought! Funny? No? Okay…) because I started it some time around noon, and now it’s about 9:30. My Proofreading Liaison called me a little after noon and said she had a report for me, so I drove down to the bank. When I got there, I found out that she was very much hoping I could read it and return it this afternoon – deadlines are looming, people are impatient, etc. And I’m sure I don’t have to remind anyone of the mathematical calculations running through my head when I’m faced with an ASAP annual report and the prospect of Friday afternoon rush hour traffic. And yet I agreed to have the report back before 5 o’clock…

But as I was walking out to my car, I starting thinking, why should I drive all the way home? Every time I’m in a Starbucks, I see people scattered about reading books or tapping away on laptop keyboards – obviously other people work in coffee shops, so why shouldn’t I? My only obstacle was a red pen – or rather, the lack thereof – the one and only absolutely necessary tool for a proofreader. I hadn’t even pulled out of the bank parking lot when I’d decided I would drive up to the Barnes and Noble bookstore about fifteen minutes away. Then I could simply BUY a red pen, and settle in at the Starbucks in the bookstore. Would it look weird to buy nothing but a red pen? Ah, well, who cares? But what if I already HAD a red pen and just didn’t know it? I searched through my bag at a red light, but all I found was a black pen and three tubes of lip balm in varying shades of pink (I can make it work! I can make it work! I can- oh forget it… I’ll buy a pen…). But then I thought that MAYBE if I searched through the center storage console in the car, I’d get lucky and find a long-lost red pen. I wasn’t very optimistic, but at the next red light, I popped it open and rummaged around. And to my surprise, there was a red pen tucked into the bottom corner. This made my Starbucks decision easier, as I could now visit any of a number of the abundant coffee shops between the bank and my house. So I made a left turn at the next light, and pulled into a shop that was only ten minutes from the bank.

And I was surprised by how easy it was to breeze through my work in the Starbucks. I set up shop at a table in a corner – as far away as possible from the caffeine-fueled traffic buzzing through the establishment – and I realized, as I placed my triple grande caramel macchiato on the table, that there was absolutely NOTHING I had to do in this shop except proofread. I didn’t have to answer the phone when it rang, I didn’t have to do anyone’s laundry, there was no dog to let out and no cat to distractingly sleep on pages, there were no emails to read or answer – the only thing I had to do was proofread the report and take an occasional sip of coffee. I was able to make it through the whole report in two hours. And this was even after a mother with three kids decided to hang out in my quiet corner (I swear I chose the most remote part of the whole Starbucks – but apparently parents with restless kids are looking for remote areas, as well), and, a short while later, a couple engineers held a brainstorming meeting in the armchairs next to me (at least I think they were engineers… they kept talking about “design” and different kinds of wires… one of them had a Russian accent… like I said, I THINK they were engineers…). But I was able to pretty much tune out the distractions in the coffee shop, because I knew they had absolutely nothing to do with me – I didn’t HAVE to pay attention to any of it, so I didn’t.

So I was once again hailed as a hero when I returned to the bank with the report (there’s nothing like a well-proofed annual report to make you feel important…), but of course it wasn’t going to be THAT easy. There was another report waiting for me when I handed over the first one. Fortunately that one doesn’t need to be back until Monday, but my very helpful mom is going to have to return it for me, as the Williamson County legal system will be holding me captive on Monday. Stupid Williamson County legal system…

But at least now I know that whenever I have a pressing deadline, I have a perfectly legitimate excuse to run out for coffee…

Proper grammar and Snoop Dogg...

Ugh… it’s rainy, dreary, cloudy… I think I’m supposed to be happy about this, because central Texas is in the middle of a drought… yeah, yeah… blah blah blah… when are we NOT in the middle of a drought? I just hope the phone doesn’t ring with the promise of more proofreading work. Not that I don’t appreciate the fact that my past employers were SO impressed with my work that they’ve kept me on their list of freelancers (they WERE impressed, right? Or do they just get desperate around annual report time? Well, you know what they say – don’t put a chicken in the basket when a horse is in a glass house because a penny saved means one extra gumball…).

Um, maybe you can’t tell, but I think I’m all worn out from the proofreading I did yesterday. My Proofreading Liaison emailed me Monday afternoon to ask if I could pick up a report or two Tuesday morning. So I made my way down to the bank building on 360 – which is actually sort of a nice drive when it’s dry and sunny. The office building is just past the 360 bridge, and some of the people who work there are lucky enough to have offices with big windows overlooking the bridge. (Back when I worked for them, they were in a different location, close to the interstate. So while I WAS lucky enough to have an office with a window, all I really saw was the entrance to our parking garage and the traffic on I-35.) So I arrived at the bank at 9:30 yesterday morning, and the receptionist handed me an accordion folder with two reports stuffed inside and a yellow sticky note on the front that exclaimed, “need these back today, ASAP!” (Argh! It’s the dreaded ASAP!)

As I was leaving the bank building, I was already doing the math in my head: Let’s see… I’ll get home around 10… start these right away… maybe finish the first one by 1 o’clock if I don’t take any breaks… and then finish the second by 4 if I immediately pick it up as soon as I’m done with the first… and then drive back down to the bank and back home in rush hour traffic… wait – what if I have to go to the bathroom? That’ll be five minutes I can never get back… maybe I could proofread in the bathroom… no, no… that’s just icky… how would YOU feel if someone handed you an annual report that had been proofed in a bathroom, Lisa?? Well, it's not like I'd actually have to TELL anyone... it would be a secret... no, no, no... it's not right. Okay, so the bathroom thing is out… I just won’t drink any water… darn it! I’m already drinking coffee! Alright, alright… I’ll skim over a few unimportant-looking paragraphs without reading them very thoroughly so I can fit in a couple bathroom breaks. I hope I don’t get hungry… I can’t eat… I mean, eating is just totally impossible – it takes too long to chew… HOW am I gonna get these things back TODAY???

Needless to say, when I finally did settle in to proofread the reports, I read those things more quickly than I’d ever read any annual report I’ve ever seen. It was like a proofreading sprint. I somehow managed to finish the first one in just under three hours, and the second one in two and a half. (I had to double-check the time when I was finished… I don’t know how I read that entire thing in two and a half hours…) I was able to leave my house at 3:45 to drive down to the bank in what was turning into a rainy, soggy mess. And with all the rain and traffic it took longer to get down there than usual, but when I walked into the bank and the receptionist saw me, her face lit up and she said, “oh thank God!” and then she picked up the phone to tell my Proofreading Liaison that I had returned. I could hear her on the other end of the phone: “is she here??” And the receptionist answered, “she’s here!!” And all I could think was, why isn’t EVERYONE this happy to see me? I mean, really… usually when I show up somewhere, the best response I get is, “oh… hey… it’s you…” Rarely do people actually thank God that I’ve arrived… and frankly, it's about time someone DID.

Anyway… after yesterday, I feel all proofreaded out. Yes, I said proofreaded. So I think I’ll just stare out the window at the dreary rain… it’s easy on the eyes…

On a completely different subject – did anyone watch American Idol last night? I think this year’s group is a little more boring than usual. And, as some of the reviewers of the show have pointed out, the judges are starting to get a little out-of-touch with modern popular music. Last night was “Diana Ross” night, where everyone had to choose a Diana Ross song to perform. And a couple of the guys actually took the initiative to “update” the old songs and give them a more modern sound. Curly-haired Chris even took “Endless Love” (an unbelievably annoying song, if you ask me…) and made it sound good. But the judges hated it, because he tried to “modernize” it. C’mon, give the guy a break – he took a song with horrible saccharine lyrics like, “two hearts, two hearts that beat as one, our lives have just begun… forever, I’ll hold you close in my arms, I can’t resist your charm” (words that were obviously written by a fifteen year-old with a crush on someone in geometry class…) and sang it in a way that did NOT cause me to throw up from the sappy sweetness. He sounded great – the judges should’ve loved it.

But Rick and I think we’ve come up with a solution – they need to replace the current judges with a younger group. Now, I suggested Christina Aguilera, Justin Timberlake and Beyonce, but I think I like Rick’s suggestions better: Britney Spears, Snoop Dogg and Eminem. I can already hear what this panel of judges would sound like after one of the American Idol contestants sang a great rendition of some song:

Britney Spears: Oh wow! Y’all! That was so good, y’all! Ugh… this wig is itchy…

Snoop Dogg: Yo. Fo shizzle. Be real, yo.

Eminem: You #%$* that #&^(#.

And of course, they would also comment when someone sang poorly:

Britney Spears: Aawwww… y’aaaall. You sounded like Kevin. I need a drink…

Snoop Dogg: Yo yo – no no no. Gangstas be bustin’a cap in the televizzle. Drop it like it’s hot.

Eminem: You #%$* that #&^(#.

Well, it would make the show more interesting, right? And you’ve gotta admit – NO one makes up words like Snoop Dogg…

Where did I pahk the cah?

Yea, Eric is gone! Uh, I mean, aawwww… Eric is gone… No, seriously – I’m upset that Eric is gone, because now all I have to look forward to in the next week is proofreading annual reports and jury duty. Oh joy. Oh happiness that cannot be contained. My unbridled felicity shall know no bounds. Tell me, is there any miniscule prospect of discovering a delight to surpass my present good fortune? I think it must not be possible. (Am I being sarcastic enough? I can’t tell…)

So anyway… we discovered a really good new restaurant when Eric was here called III Forks. (Pronounced THREE Forks, but actually written that way: III Forks) It’s in the “revitalized” Second Street District downtown. Austin has been undertaking this whole “revitalization” thing with Second Street, because apparently some people are tired of only having ONE cool street in downtown Austin (Sixth Street – let’s go to Sixth Street!). And I, for one, am happy to finally have another street to recommend to out-of-town visitors. III Forks is actually located at the corner of Cesar Chavez (which is technically First Street) and Lavaca, but it’s close enough to Second Street that it’s considered part of the “Second Street District.” Yeah, that’s right – Second Street is so cool that it spills over into its neighboring avenues. Can’t say THAT about Sixth Street…

And we were very impressed with III Forks. It’s a steak restaurant, and I’d say the steaks are on par with what you’d find at some place like Ruth’s Chris – but III Forks actually includes a couple side dishes with your dinner. You don’t have to order every single thing a la carte. They had reeeaaaalllly good mashed potatoes that were kind of spicy (I don’t know what they put in those, but whatever it was, it was good), plus green beans and creamed corn (I’m not much of a fan of creamed corn, but mom and Rick seemed to like it…). Plus a very nice chocolate ganache cake for dessert. Yeah, I think we’ll be patronizing that place again some time soon…

After we ate, we came back here and watched The Departed on DVD. We’d never seen it before, and since it just won a bunch of Academy Awards, we figured we should check it out. Very good movie… and I don’t want to give anything away, in case someone hasn’t seen it and still wants to, but the end is a little bit surprising. I mean, I was expecting SOME of what happened, but not all… and Rick was sitting on the couch going, “what? I can’t believe that… this is intense… whoa…” And we were also surprised by all the actors who kept popping up in the movie. It was like, “Did you know that Martin Sheen was in this? I don’t think I knew that… wait – Mark Wahlberg is in this movie?? Huh, I definitely didn’t know that… okay, hold on – Alec Baldwin is in it, too???” The only slight problem we had was the annoying Boston accent affected by all the actors… it’s funny how I never really got used to it. Maybe it just reminded me of Red Sox fans…

But if you’re looking for an intense movie that makes you go, “whoa… not sure I saw that coming…” and you don’t mind two and half hours of Bostonian accents, you should watch The Departed (or maybe I should call it The Depaahhted…). We all agreed that Martin Scorsese deserved the Oscar he finally won. (And at long last I can say I saw a Martin Scorsese movie… I feel so much more content with my life now… how did I ever make it this far without experiencing such cinematic genius? Well, okay, maybe it wasn’t THAT good…)

Anyway, I have to think about getting to bed some time soon so my eyes are rested for proofreading tomorrow. Oh joy. Oh happiness… eh, you know the rest…

Happy Birthday, Dad!

Yes, today is dad’s birthday! I won’t say how old he is, but it’s pretty darn old. (Just kidding, dad! :)) Actually, there’s no way that dad is as old as he supposedly (supposably) is, because he’s the only one who’ll hike up stairs with me and go for long walks when we’re on vacations and exploring new places. When we were in Rome a couple years ago, my dad and I were the only ones who were willing to tackle the Spanish steps. Everyone else waited for us, admiring the strange obelisk perched at the top of the steps. Dad and I were like, “c’mon, it’s the Spanish steps! In Rome! You HAVE to walk up and down the steps, right?” It’s not the Spanish waiting room – it’s a big staircase. What good is a staircase if you can’t walk on it? Fortunately, dad is always willing to walk long distances and climb lots of stairs… and that’s how I know he must not be as old as he’s supposed to be…

And Eric is here, so we’re all pretending to be happy about that. (Haha… just kidding, Eric… or AM I? Hmmm…) We had a nice early birthday dinner last night at Truluck’s, where I ordered a piece of their reeeeaaaaallllly good chocolate cake for dessert – to go. That cake is so good that I don’t like to waste any of it – and if I’m completely full after dinner there (which usually happens), I like to just order the cake to go so I can enjoy it sometime when I don’t practically feel sick to my stomach. So I brought a piece home last night, and I accidentally ate some of it for breakfast. I don’t know how that happened. Now I really DO feel sick to my stomach…

Eric and I played some Texas hold ‘em last night, which I really don’t know how to play very well. And yet I somehow managed to win a lot. Lucky for Eric we weren’t actually playing for money. We were, however, playing for all the tea in China (which I won), and a napkin with a bug in it (I can’t remember if I won that or not – but it ended up in the trash anyway…). Dad joined us at one point and bet his house, but he managed to win that hand. Whew… THAT was close.

So my mom just told me that my Aunt Carol was wondering about the “mashed cauliflower” I mentioned in my last post. It’s pretty much just like it sounds – you steam the cauliflower until it’s soft, then just mash it up like potatoes. I like to add cheese to it, but you could probably experiment and add whatever you want. Or add nothing, if you really like the taste of plain old cauliflower. I first saw the “mashed cauliflower” thing referred to as a “substitution” for mashed potatoes for people on the Atkins diet. But I gotta tell ya – it’s nothing like mashed potatoes. And I’m NOT on the Atkins diet, and would never BE on the Atkins diet. I know some people love it, but I don’t like any kind of diet that restricts entire food groups. In fact, I don’t like any “diet” at all. If you’re “on a diet,” it implies that you’re doing something temporary – eventually you’ll get to a point where you go back to eating however you like to eat, and that’s when you gain back all the weight you lost on your “diet.” Personally, I like the “everything in moderation” approach. If I were to start restricting carbs, eventually I’d snap and eat an entire pizza, loaf of bread, and order of extra large McDonald’s French fries. Better to eat a slice of pizza now and then, a piece of bread here or there, and few French fries every so often. So the mashed cauliflower is less a “substitution” for mashed potatoes (which I also make sometimes), and more just something to add variety to my dinners.

And yes, sometimes I DO eat cake for breakfast. Not all the time, of course. But I can’t eat oatmeal EVERY day… I like variety for breakfast, too. :)

Everybody say it with me now: NOOOOOOO!!

So yesterday evening, I was feeling about as upbeat as I can feel, knowing I’d done a good job with my proofreading work, and looking forward to Eric flying down for a visit today. I worked out and took a shower – my usual routine – while thinking about what I’d make for dinner. I was in a fairly decent mood, so I figured I’d be ambitious and make something really good. I was thinking about a basil pesto chicken with a little bit of pasta, and some mashed cauliflower on the side. It sounded good in my mind, so I thought it’d be fun to try. I finished my shower, got dressed, and opened the bathroom door, ready to head to the kitchen and play chef. But Rick, who had just returned home from work, was standing in the doorway, blocking my escape. His hands were behind his back, and he had some weird look on his face… amusement? Pity? A little bit of both, perhaps? “Don’t shoot the messenger,” he said. “Remember, I’m just the one delivering the message.”

What the heck was THAT supposed to mean? Wait – were the guys in the fantasy baseball league saying bad things about me again? I know, I know, I thought, as I stood in the bathroom doorway, he’s gonna tell me that Bryan or Greg or Tim or EVERYONE is saying that the only reason I did well last year was because of dumb luck, and it’ll never happen again. Okay, fine. I can take it. “What is it?” I asked. And even as I said it, I had a bad feeling that whatever Rick was going to tell me had nothing to do with fantasy baseball. (Oh, how I wish it had had something to do with fantasy baseball…)

He silently brought his hands around to where I could see them, and handed me a large white post card with some sort of ominous red lettering on top. I could feel my good mood vanishing with the steam in the bathroom, floating away on little wisps, probably growing moldy. For there, on the top of the card, were the words I’d been dreading to see for years: OFFICAL JURY SUMMONS

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!! NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! ARGH!!!! And did I say NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO yet?

Rick said my reaction to this was quite Biblical – there was much weeping and gnashing of teeth. I really have been living in terrified fear of receiving a jury summons, ever since I realized a few years ago that everyone I knew had been “summoned” at least once, and most people I know have been called two or three times. But I’d NEVER gotten a jury summons. Ever. I didn’t know what I was doing to avoid detection, but I hoped that whatever it was would continue working… that somehow, I would remain hidden, invisible, unseen to whatever computer was spitting out random names in this horrible lottery that no one wants to win. But my unknown defenses, whatever they were, have let me down. HOW DID THEY FIND ME? I used to be invisible…

And I know that no one seems to find jury duty all that pleasant – but that’s NORMAL people. For those of us who are quite abnormal, and much too shy for our own good, being called to jury duty is like being thrown into a tank full of piranhas. Yeah, have fun clawing your way out of THAT. Oh, and of course there’s the added bonus of lawyers – so really, it’s like a tank full of piranhas with a few great white sharks thrown in for good measure. (Uh, no offense to any lawyers out there… I’m speaking, of course, about defense attorneys… maybe…)

I just have this horrible feeling that someone is going to think I’m perfect for a jury. (Hey, check out that quiet girl who looks really terrified and unsure of herself – like she’s waiting for us to tell her what to say… yeah, we’ll go with her.) Couple that with the fact that I am COMPLETELY unable to express myself verbally… it HAS to be in writing, otherwise I either sound like I have no opinions whatsoever, or I sound like a babbling idiot. And everyone knows that babbling idiots are perfect for juries. I am in so much trouble here…

I’ve been going over the list of exemptions and disqualifications, and I just can’t seem to find anything that works for me. Let’s see… You can be excused if you are over 70 years of age. (Well, that’s not gonna work… I can’t even pass for my OWN age most of the time… poor me… haha…). You can be excused if you have legal custody of a child younger than 10 and can’t find a decent babysitter. (Hmmm… I wonder if I could adopt a kid in a week? Angelina Jolie does it all the time – how hard can it be?) You can be excused if you are enrolled and attend college. (Darn it!!! I KNEW I should’ve gone back to school this year. I should just go back to school indefinitely. If I was in school forever, then I’d always have an excuse. I could get fifteen different degrees and be the most well-rounded person on the planet.) You can be excused if you are the primary caretaker of a person who is an invalid. (Um, Rick, you may be involved in an “accident” some time this week…)

And let’s see… You can be disqualified if you’re not a citizen of this state. (I can move – I’ll move tomorrow. I’ll move to North Dakota… I don’t care, I’m desperate here…) You can be disqualified if you can’t read and write. (Don’t ANYONE tell anyone else about my blog… it doesn’t exist… I don’t even know what I’m typing… koijvmlkdoijselkljr…) You can be disqualified if you are not of sound mind and good moral character. (Okay, c’mon – I’m thinking of moving to North Dakota – I’m obviously NOT of sound mind… and did I mention I sacrifice babies in my backyard as offerings to the Yankee gods? That doesn’t seem very moral to me…) And you can be disqualified if you’ve been convicted of a misdemeanor theft or felony. (Excuse me… I’ve got to go shoplifting… I mean shopping… no, wait, I really DO mean shoplifting…)

Sigh… it’s no use… it’s hopeless… if anybody needs me, I’ll be on my way to North Dakota…

So much excitement, so little time...

I finally have some proofreading work today, so I thought I would describe to everyone what it’s like to run through one of these 40-page annual reports. So here’s my proofreading play-by-play (hey, give me a break… I didn’t have time to write anything too wonderfully creative today, okay?):

10:45 am – Do I have all my necessary proofreading supplies? Let’s see… red pen? Check. Coffee? Check. Internet browser with page opened to an AP style guide? Check. Internet browser with page opened to dictionary.com in case I need to check the spelling of a word (even though I can never again trust dictionary.com because of their completely blasé attitude toward words that don’t exist)? Check. Okay, I’m ready to go…

11:10 am – Something I’ve always been curious about: Why is “PricewaterhouseCoopers” one great big long word? If it was, in fact, formed by a merger between Price Waterhouse and Coopers and Lybrand, then why is it not “Price Waterhouse Coopers” or “Price, Waterhouse, Coopers and Lybrand”? It’s just weird… I feel like I should be making some sort of correction to “PricewaterhouseCoopers”…

11:47 am – You know, there are some words in these reports that I just never get tired of reading… like “dividends” and “patronage” and “amortization” and “jointly and severally liable” and “methodology”… wait a second… those are the words I get tired of reading as soon as I’m on page three…

12:05 pm – This particular report is for a bank in Louisiana, and I just read a paragraph about how Hurricane Katrina and Hurricane Rita caused damage to many borrowers’ property, “as a result of the high winds, rain and storm surge of salt water.” Okay, really, is it necessary to explain what caused the damage? I mean, if we hear about damage after a hurricane, are we going to think, “hmmm… I wonder what caused THAT damage…” Is someone going to assume it was from a freak earthquake that just happened to hit at the same time? Too bad I’m not allowed to rewrite these things…

12:06 pm – And why are counties in Louisiana called “parishes”? I’ve always wondered about that…

12:35 pm – Just spent ten minutes trying to decide if “mid-to-late 1980s” should include those hyphens. I don’t think it should. I think “mid to late 1980s” is the way to go. That took WAY too long to figure out…

12:49 pm – Argh! It’s my pet peeve word “utilize.” I hate the word “utilize.” It’s just as bad as “comfortability.” Because it means the same thing as “use,” except it’s unnecessarily long and annoying. Just like “comfortability” means the same thing as “comfort.” Hey – ten bucks for the first person to write a decent sentence including both “utilize” and “comfortability.” (Just kidding… I’m not really gonna give anyone money… but maybe a stack of Post-it notes, or a piece of string cheese or something…)

1:09 pm – Oh good, I’ve finally gotten to the “interesting” part of the annual report: the little bio blurbs of the board of directors. I get to read about where they went to school and what sort of committees they serve on and all the different kinds of crops and/or animals they raise. Just for fun, I should count how many times I read the word “soybean.” Seriously, this is as interesting as it gets…

1:35 pm – Final “soybean” count: five.

2:06 pm – I’m hungry… I wonder if I have any soybeans…

2:45 pm – No soybeans, but I did have a few crackers with soybean OIL in the list of ingredients. Those soybeans are in everything…

2:47 pm – Uh oh, Allegro has found me, and she’s decided that I need help with this proofreading thing. Therefore, she has planted herself firmly on top of the pages I’ve already proofed, perhaps as an indication that she’d like to peruse them herself… or maybe as an indication that she’s hoping I’ll pull out a can of tuna some time soon. (Ha! No chance of THAT happening…)

3:01 pm – I just read an entire page full of sentences like, “the allowance for loan losses is maintained at a level considered adequate by management to provide for probable losses inherent in the loan portfolio” and “revised estimates to the fair value less cost to sell are reported as adjustments to the carrying amount of the asset, provided that such adjusted value is not in excess of the carrying amount at acquisition.” And I didn’t find one mistake. Not one. Is that bad? Did I miss something? I mean, the entire page is covered with financial gibberish, so isn’t it possible that my eyes sort of glazed over and I accidentally skipped some kind of obvious, glaring error?? Oh, what am I saying… it’s not like anyone ELSE is actually gonna sit down and READ this thing…

3:29 pm – Okay, I’m pretty sure my mind is playing tricks on me, because I could’ve sworn I just skimmed over a recipe for Swedish meatballs… pretty sure that doesn’t belong in the middle of an annual report…

3:48 pm – Whoa… wait, no… okay, no, everything’s fine. I’m fine. I thought I saw the word “comfortability” but I re-read it and realized it was just the word “and.” I should take breaks more often when I’m reading these things…

4:19 pm – Two more pages to go… but it doesn’t really matter, because I stopped reading a long time ago. Right now I’m just writing "Lisa rules" in big block letters in red pen in the middle of every page…

4:29 pm – One report down, who-knows-how-many to go. Well, that was fun, wasn’t it? :)

How do you spell that?

Well, apparently Greg’s comfortability was negatively affected by my recent posts about made-up words and the Food Network. He has politely requested I talk about baseball “or something” (which I’m assuming is another way of saying “Jack Bauer and 24”). Oh hey, speaking of Jack Bauer – I DID just happen to see that animated movie “The Wild” on HBO a few days ago. Parts of it are a very obvious rip-off of “Madagascar” (I love Madagascar… the movie, not the country. I mean, I’ve never BEEN to the country, so I wouldn’t know if I loved it or not… I’m sure it’s quite lovely…) – but even with the obvious copying, it was an okay movie. And the voice of the lion in The Wild was performed by none other than Jack Bauer… uh, I mean Kiefer Sutherland. In the story, the lion is searching for his son, who has accidentally been shipped to Africa. At one point, he turns to his animal cohorts and plaintively cries, “this is a rescue mission now!” I swear I thought I’d switched over to 24… :)

But since I’ve been talking about words, I have a random question – why do rap and hip hop songs always seem to include some sort of spelling lesson? I sometimes watch MTV or VH1 in the mornings, because I like to keep up-to-date with what the young-uns are listening to these days. And this morning I heard that Fergie song “Glamorous.” And right off the bat, we get the spelling lesson: “g-l-a-m… o-r-o-u-s.” And then again, in case we missed it the first time: “g-l-a-m… o-r-o-u-s.” I KNOW how to spell “glamorous,” Fergie… you don’t have to explain it to me. Fergie also likes to make sure everyone knows how to spell her name, as she tells us in “Fergalicious” (sheesh – talk about ridiculous made-up words…). She’s the “f to the e-r-g the i the e…” Or, if we put it in proper lyrical form:

She’s the f to the e-r-g the i the e
How much more annoying could this silly song be?

Not much, actually. That’s my guess. But really – why is there so much spelling in rap and hip hop? I’m just curious… is there going to be a pop quiz eventually? Will I need a number 2 pencil?

Okay, anyway… back to baseball – which I was never actually talking about, but as long as it was requested, I might as well bring it up. I can not WAIT for baseball season to officially begin. Only a few more weeks. And only a few more weeks until the fantasy baseball draft, which I am nervously awaiting. I have no idea who my first pick will be. And the other day, Rick was lamenting the fact that he might “have” to take Pujols as his first pick. Oh yeah, what a horrible thing THAT would be… oh, woe is me, I have the best offensive player in baseball… whatever shall I do?? Supposedly (supposably) my number nine pick isn’t such a bad thing – since I get two picks relatively close together. But we’ll see how that pans out…

I’m just looking forward to baseball being on TV and the radio again. It’s always great to know that when it’s a really slow TV night, and Jack Bauer is nowhere to be found, you can usually find a baseball game somewhere. I was a little surprised to see that apparently the Yankees are only playing the Rangers one time this year, in May – isn’t that kind of strange? They usually match up with a team a few times during the year. So I doubt I’ll get to see the Yankees play this year, unless maybe I fly up to New York some time…

Well, speaking of baseball, I just realized there’s a pre-season game on YES, so I might as well go watch an inning or two. So until next time, this is L to the I to the S to the A, saying peace out…

You should hear how she says "prosciutto"...

Does anyone ever watch “Everyday Italian” on the Food Network? I watch it now and then, because Giada De Laurentiis (the host of the show) has some good ideas sometimes, and I like to experiment when I cook. Which tends to scare Rick, especially when he asks “what’s for dinner?” and I say I have no idea. Even when I have a counter full of ingredients in front of me… usually if I just start throwing stuff together, eventually something good will result. And in my defense, I can only recall ONE time that I really screwed up a dinner… I added too much soy sauce to a stir fry. I hadn’t realized how much SALT is in that stuff… (And hey, I know NOW… that was the last time I screwed up a stir fry…)

So I do watch this show sometimes, but I find Giada relentlessly annoying. She has this rather pretentious way of pronouncing the Italian words she uses. Granted, she WAS born in Rome, according to her foodtv.com bio, so I assume she speaks fluent Italian. Which is great… but she’s also very obviously been in America for a while, and speaks fluent English without a hint of an Italian accent. Except, as I mentioned, when she jumps all over one of those Italian words. Like today, she was cooking spaghetti with a pinot grigio sauce. Okay, it’s spaghetti… we’ve all had spaghetti, we all know how to SAY “spaghetti,” and I think it’s safe to say that spaghetti – Italian as it may be – is quite the American staple. Which makes it sound really bizarre when the on-air chef is talking about boiling the water for the “spaaah-gheeeteee.” Huh? The what?? It’s as if she feels it’s necessary to enlighten us with a little Italian lesson between the appetizer and the main course.

What’s curious is that while she was rolling sun-dried tomatoes and “moootzerrrrrelllah” into phyllo dough, she mentioned that they looked like burritos – and just plain old American-sounding “burritos.” Not buuurrrrreeetohs.” So the Italian words necessitate proper linguistic pronunciation, but the Spanish words don’t? The Italian language and the Spanish language seem to have a lot of similarities, so it shouldn’t be much of a challenge to pronounce “burrito” like a fluent Spanish-speaker would… especially if you’re already teaching us dummified Americans how to say “spaghetti” and “gelato” and “bruschetta.”

Which brings me to another topic – I have to admit that Faisal’s new made-up word is actually beginning to grow on me. I’ll never like “comfortability,” just because it’s a pointless (so-called) word. There’s no reason to use “comfortability” when you can just use “comfort.” But I’m realizing that “dummification,” on the other hand, may actually serve a purpose. I mean, if you’re making someone smarter, you might be “educating” them, or “teaching” them, or “enlightening” them. But what is the opposite of educate? What are you doing if you’re actually detracting from someone’s education? Might you, in fact, be dummifying them? Perhaps you are… yes, perhaps you are…

We ate lunch with mom and dad today, and while we were out, everyone was trying to make up as many words as possible. Most of them have escaped my mind at this point (I guess they weren’t as useful as “dummification”) but the best one was “lemonize.” That’s what Rick said he had to do to his iced tea to make it taste better. So you can lemonize tea, or water, or you could probably lemonize fish or chicken, too. Mom even likes to lemonize her Coke…

I wonder how you say lemon in Italian? Guess I’ll have to keep watching the Food Network…

So I'm not perfect... who knew?

I’m standing here (as I often do stand as opposed to sit) at my computer, waiting for the phone to ring. Although I can’t decide if I actually WANT it to ring – I’m waiting for some freelance proofreading work… but seeing as it’s already Friday afternoon, any work I get will have to be completed over the weekend. And I can think of better ways to spend my weekend than plodding my way through annual reports. Oh, I know what you’re thinking – “but Lisa, you don’t have a real job right now – why should you care if you have to work over a weekend? All you’re doing is wasting space and consuming other people’s valuable oxygen anyway…” Gosh, that’s really mean of you guys to say…

I suppose it might be slightly IRONIC that I’m talking about proofreading today – a mere 24 hours after my own glaring error was sighted by someone who wasn’t even looking for mistakes. At least I don’t THINK he was looking for mistakes… I could be wrong about that. I do, at times, get the distinct impression that SOMEone has an ambition to prove me wrong. Like about my long-time word-foe “comfortability,” for instance. And I wasn’t WRONG about that… I feel I must point out that I was, in fact, quite right. “Comfortability” was NOT a word, and it was NOT in any dictionary. But as it has apparently managed to sneak into conversations now and then, some unseen vocabulary higher-power decided to add it to a dictionary. Fine. Whatever. That certainly doesn’t mean that “dummification” will ever catch on. No way. Not a chance. Won’t be seeing THAT in the dictionary any time soon. I should shut up now before I jinx it…

It’s actually rather difficult to proofread your own writing. Not that it’s an excuse for my mistakes… it’s just a strange fact. Or perhaps I should say – it’s rather difficult to proofread your own writing immediately after it’s been written. And I don’t know why that is, exactly. But it’s best to have someone else read what you’ve written, or to at least step away from what you’ve written for a few hours and read it again later. It’s like you get used to knowing what you MEAN to write, because it’s already in your head… so if you read it immediately after you write it, you just kind of gloss right over some of the words. Because you already know what they’re supposed to say. But if you wait a few hours, and read it again, then all that writing has flown out of your head and you can read it with a clean point of view. Does that make any sense? That probably makes no sense, does it? Looks like the dummification of my writing has already begun… wait – DARN IT! Not a real word… not a real word… not a real word…

But I also can’t say that I honestly “proofread” my posts most of the time. I usually reread them before I post them, but reading and PROOFreading are really two different things. When I proofread, I generally go syllable by syllable. I’ll break each word down into its smallest parts, and then check each individual syllable (it doesn’t take as long to do that as it sounds…). Especially when I come across a word like “responsibility” or, yes, even the maddening maybe-word “comfortability” (those “ability” words can be easy to misspell…). I’m not usually that careful with my posts…

So I guess while I’m waiting for the phone to ring, I will go back and read this post again, ver-y care-ful-ly, to make cer-tain I have not made mis-takes in my writ-ing. But if I have, please be sure to point them out to me… :)

Comfortability? Supposably...

Well, I’m not sure I’ve sufficiently recovered from this comfortability nonsense, but I shall attempt to move on with my life… so who watched Lost last night? I was glad to see another episode focusing on the “original” island… there’ve been way too many episodes on the Other island lately. There were two times last night that I found myself thinking, “wow, they haven’t mentioned THAT in a while…” The first was when Kate said something about Michael and Walt leaving on the boat – I was like, “Michael and Walt! I forgot all about those two!” (Are we ever going to see them again? Have they managed to make any progress, or are they just going around in circles?) And the second time was at the very end, when Crazy French Lady emerged from the forest. I was wondering if we’d see her again any time soon – especially after we found out that Ben is Alex’s father. (Ben and Crazy French Lady?? What’s up with THAT??? Or maybe Ben isn’t really her father – that’s just what the Others told her? And why has Alex apparently been immune to the brainwashing power of the Others?) I really liked last night’s episode, because it was a bit more lighthearted than the super-serious last few episodes. Although I can’t believe they were actually able to get that van running again… and I can’t believe Sawyer drank all that old, warm beer…

So I’m looking forward to next week’s episode, because I just read that the back story will focus on Sayid, who we’ve barely seen since last year. He’s been popping into scenes for about two seconds at a time, and then running back to his hut on the beach, I guess. And that annoys me… because he is not only the best-looking guy on this bizarre, apparently not-so-deserted island, but he’s also one of the most interesting characters and it’s about time we learned more about his “before island” existence. And it wouldn’t hurt if he’d take his shirt off now and then… (just kidding… no, actually, I mean it – shirt needs to come off…)

But back to the comfortability thing, since Rick added a comment about “supposably.” Supposably actually IS a word, it’s just not a very common word. And it’s really a rather confusing word, when you actually make the effort to understand its meaning. It’s not the word you would use to mean “allegedly,” which is usually what is meant when “supposedly” is used. As it says on the Washington State University “Common Errors in English” web site: “‘Supposedly’ is the standard form. ‘Supposably’ can be used only when the meaning is ‘capable of being supposed,’ and then only in the U.S.” What a bunch of crazy Americans we are. And like I said, I’m not even sure I really understand that definition. Capable of being supposed? Uh, okay, whatever. I’ll just stick with supposedly. The bottom line is that 99.99 percent of the time, “supposedly” is the correct word to use. Yes, “supposably” is a word. No, you don’t ever have to actually USE it. Just like I will never willingly use “comfortability,” unless I’m trying to be funny… (laugh! Laugh now!!)

If you think I’M nitpicky about this stuff, you should read this list that I found. Some of these things really ARE genuinely annoying, but a lot of them are just regional dialects and accents. There are ALWAYS going to be different pronunciations of words, depending on where the speaker grew up. I’m not sure it’s possible to have a language that is completely homogeneous in its pronunciations. I mean, does anyone really care if someone says “comfterble” instead of “com-for-ta-ble”? Or (Eric’s favorite) “man-aise” instead of “may-onn-aise”? Who cares? It’s just diction. It’s different everywhere. As long as you’re not actually SPELLING these words as “comfterble” and “manaise”… that would just be sad…

In fact, we were just having a discussion about this the other day when my mom pronounced “Colorado” as “colo-RAD-o” – Rick apparently thought that was weird, because he pronounces it “colo-RAHD-o.” But a quick dictionary look-up revealed that either pronunciation is acceptable. I’d say it depends on where you’re from, except I tend to pronounce it as “colo-RAHD-o,” too. Maybe I’ve just been hanging around Rick too much... although I’ve never picked up the Texas colloquial “y’all” he uses all the time. I have, however, been saying “you guys” since I was about three years old. Even when I’m referring to a group of girls. That’s just what people say in the north. (Thank goodness I didn’t pick up “youz guys”… that one really grates on my nerves. :))

So, just to recap – supposably is a word, but please don’t ever use it. And Naveen Andrews needs to take his shirt off. Yeah, I think that’s about it…