This is my new favorite word: chutzpah.
Pronounced *hooot-spaah*, it means gall, audacity and nerve. I read my horoscope today and it said that I would impress others with my chutzpah. That is pretty much a given with me and my stellar personality, but it is always nice to have others point it out.
People have memorable moments in their lives that they reflect upon, whether they be a happy memory, or something so sad that they cry even though it happened months or even years ago.
I got the call my Grammy died on a Friday morning, it was December 12th and Snow Patrol was playing on my car radio. When I fumbled my cell phone to retrieve the call, I knew but I didn’t know what it was about. When I saw my Mom was on the other end, I knew but I didn’t know why she was calling. It is like I was outside of myself watching my body move, my fingers tremble as they wrap around the phone. I listened to my own robotic responses for a minute and then a collision of emotions come like a wave over me and I am no longer outside of myself. I am crying.
Every time I heard “Crack the Shutters” by Snow Patrol I think about my Grammy. Not about the day she died, just about her. It is happy but somber at the same time. The lyrics to the song mean nothing, it just happened to be playing when I got the call.
I think that everyone has something like that in their lives, at one point or another, that pops up and it helps them to remember.
There are two ways to pronounce this nut: (PE *) CAN -or- (PE *) CAAAHN. One is the normal way and one is the hoity-toity way.
For instance, (PE *) CAN I go with you to the store? Sounds normal, right? Like every other person in the world.
Or, you can say it like you have a stick up your butt, (PE *) CAAAHN I join you for tea and strumpets while wearing my flowery hat?
I like the normal way because I do not like sounding like someone I am not. It is just a nut, not some rich, elegant delicacy that stuffy people enjoy eating with their pinkie in the air.
I think it has more to do with where you grew up. I am from the East coast and hints of my Boston accent do slip out now and then when something is “wicked good” or when we “go out on the town and get re-taaaaaded.” That could be why I call them (PE*) CANs and not (PE*) CAAAHNs.
Am I right?
I have posted the most unusual dog names, so here are the most unusual cat names. I am not much of a cat person, I do prefer dogs, but I love all animals and these names are just too darn cute…
1. Edward Scissorpaws
2. Sir Lix-a-lot
3. Optimus Prrrime
4. Buddah Pest
5. Snoop Kitty Kitty
6. Miss Fuzzbutt
7. 80 Bucks
8. Sparklemonkey
9. Rosie Posie Prozac
10. Toot Uncommon
I love watching American Idol, especially when it is down to 8-10 contestants and viewers have already picked a few of their favorites that they root for each week. But in the past two weeks, this show (filmed live) has gone over the allotted time and run over into the time slot for Fringe, which is another show we watch regularly and tivo. But because Idol goes over and Fringe is not live, it also goes over and if you do not set up your tivo to record the show after Fringe (in this case, the news) you will miss the last few minutes of Fringe.
For those of you who do not know, Fringe is a suspense, science/mystery drama on Fox and slightly mirrors the premise behind X-Files. So as you can imagine, missing the last few minutes of Fringe is a big deal… Do they catch the bad guy? Does the slime creature get away? What about the creepy bald guy in the trench coat, what happens to him???
It is too early to wake, too early to feel this spent. Too early for Cali to be Ilac, too loud are her nails as they scratch up wooden stairs. Too many things to do to get ready to leave, not going to get caffeine soon enough. Too cold to be outside without a jacket, too warm in bed to want to rise. The sky is too dark, it must still be night. Too early in the week, is it Friday yet?
Cali has been just wonderful when we leave her alone in the house to roam free, sleep on the couch, cuddle in the bed covers or eat her food, whatever she pleases. We stopped putting her in the crate about a month ago and so far, no horrifying incidents, so we did what we never thought we could ever do: we broke down the crate and are now storing it in the garage. Cali threw a party the day we did this, she was thrilled to see that thing put away.
We did some furniture hunting for a piece that would fit in the spot where the desk was positioned. It was an ancient piece of press-board furniture the sellers left for us and now, it just had to go. Ryan borrowed some hand saws from his dad’s garage and we broke it down one Friday night after work. After multiple late-night trips to Cal Lu’s dumpster, we eradicated all traces of the desk.
I have very vivid dreams. I have discussed this before. Last night I dreamed about a murderer who was killing random people that his female accomplice was seducing. The murderer would remove the victim’s heads after killing them and bury them with a note the victim was allowed to write.
Then I would see detectives reading these notes, looking at the pile of heads, trying to figure out who the killer is. One victim had his eye balls mushed out of his head so he was left with a fleshy, bloody mess where his eyes used to be and I could feel it! That is how vivid my dreams are.
Monday nights are just packed for me and my hubby as we tune into or Tivo the following TV shows:
And this is on top of what we Tivo’d over the weekend (Big Love, Kings) and shows from weekdays the week before (Trust Me, Lie to Me, Damages) that we have to watch before the next new episodes air in the following few days. It is a pretty hectic schedule and let’s face it, something had to be bumped. That is when we hit “Cancel Recording & Delete” on Dancing With the Stars. I was sad at first, but all these other shows we have been following for months, and some of them for years; they are just so much better than watching some hacks try to dance better than my girl Melissa. I know she’ll go far, I’m not worried, but here it all ends, my following of DWTS. Someone should talk to ABC about putting it on another day of the week because Mondays are way too busy for me.
I am liking this Twitter thing that I recently signed up for. I am a fan of texting and having it appear on my blog (see panel to the far right) and I love checking in on it every few days and seeing new people that have joined. It is like a fun web-surfing thing I do from time to time—I pull up someone’s personal page, see who they are following and then go to that person’s page, and so on and so forth. I like reading the random “tweets” from the people I follow, some are funny, some are informative and some I have no clue what they are talking about—but I read on none the less.
So it is sad and oh so very obvious that no one reads my blog (save my mother) because I have been receiving email forwards like clockwork from anyone that has my email address on file. I can only hope that this is because these people are hitting “Forward” and clicking “All” when selecting the email addresses. I can only hope.
Ten minutes past seven in the morning on Tuesday. Turn right off the ramp, exiting the 101 then turn left onto Gloria Ave. The smell is undeniable: pre-school. Finger paints and construction paper. Becca and I used to go there after school our sophomore year at Coe-Brown. Karen and all the kiddies would be gone by then and we would play, pretend and paint.
This was during my obsession with a third string basketball player on the Varsity team named Michael McCormick, he was a senior (my friends and I used ‘MM’ as code). I was obsessed.
