Ichiro and Ivar's, off the I-5

The von Bloggenschterns are off yet again, darlings!

We are headed en masse in a southernly direction, along with the beauteous German exchange student Countess Felicitas, to show her - among other things - the Great American Pastime.

And, noooooo. I do not mean the barbecuing of large forest beasts, scrapbooking, or the annual mooning of Amtrak trains (not that there's anything wrong with any of those things - they're just not on this particular agenda).

The Great American Pastime I'm talkin' about is baseball, baby.

While I'm no huge fan of the sport, I love the majesty of it all, and I love, love, love people watching and eavesdropping. The game itself is beginning to grow on me after some 20-odd (very odd) years with the Baron.

The hubster, on the other hand, is a huge fan, and one of his favorite sayings is "While I love hockey, baseball is my passion". It's an enthusiasm that has been passed down to Duke 1 and 2. Which, in my estimation, is a marvelous thing. There is nothing quite so enjoyable for me as watching the men folk bond over score sheets and garlic fries.

A few years ago, the von B's made a 3 week cross-country trip - we dubbed it the "Mall and Ball Tour". We started in Seattle, and ended in Nashville. We were indiscriminating in our choice of venues - we saw both Major League games and Single A games. The only rules were - for every hour we spent in a baseball stadium, we would spend an equal amount of time in a mall. Sometimes the pickin's were slim, let me tells ya (Boise? Hellooo?), but I stuck to my guns. It was a difficult mission, but a character-building one. It also illustrated to my children how perseverent (and ultimately insane) their dear maman is.

We had a grand old time, saw many a bizarro roadside attraction (courtesy of yours truly and my mad researching skillz), and ate at some of the tastiest, dive-iest places you'd ever be afraid to set foot it. It is a trip we still talk about to this day, and it's the gold standard against which our boys measure all other family adventures.

I am praying and hoping that this weekend's escapades rank right up there to create some memories for Countess Fee to take far away home with her.

So, dear people of Seattle, I beseech you - step up to the plate.

.

Thoughtful Thursday

Think of a James Bond-esque type movie.

Striding through a dense pocket of fog, backlit, is a shadowy figure - face obscured. You can tell she's wearing some kind of long satin robe, but you do not know who or what she represents. "Who are you?", you ask nervously.

"Dictory", she replies coolly. "Val E. Dictory."

Well, it's getting darn near that time of year, and in the von Bloggenschtern household, things are abuzz with the upcoming high school graduation of Duke #1.

And while many people will be quoting "Oh, the Places You'll Go" by Dr. Seuss (who, don't get me wrong, I love. A lot.), I preferred to dig into the library of children's books we've read over (and over. and over) the years, to find a more personally relevant, dog-eared copy of a book I have read to Duke 1 since he was a babe snuggled in my lap.

This book, too, deals with career choices and hopes and dreams, but is just folksy enough to make me mist up a little when I pick it up to re-read it.

Which, lately, is around every 2 days.

Today's Thoughtful Thursday comes from "He Bear, She Bear" by Stan & Jan Berenstain.

"...What will we do, you and I?
I'll tell you what I'm going to try...
I may build bridges,
I may climb poles,
I may race cars,
I may dig holes,
I could be a magician,
I could go on TV,
I could study the fish who live in the sea.
I'll be a cowboy,
I'll go to the moon,
I'll feed a whale,
I'll train a baboon,
We'll fly a giant jumbo jet.
We'll build the tallest building yet.
We will jump on a trampoline.
We'll do tricks that have never been seen.
We'll tame twelve tigers...
and twenty-six fleas.
We'll do a dance on a flying trapeze.
We'll jump and dig and build and fly...
There's nothing that we cannot try.
We can do all these things you see,
whether we are he OR she.
So many things to be and do,
He Bear, She Bear,
me...and you."

Ode to a STD

*Note: Before all of you weak-stomached readers out there get your knickers in the proverbial knot - I am not, repeat not - speaking of my own maladies. Any cottage cheese I may claim ownership to is sitting in its rightful place, on the top shelf of the refrigerator.

So, I'm driving along this morning, listening to one of my favorite oldies stations, and a song from Tony Orlando and Dawn (remember them?) comes on.

It is called "Candida".

This immediately begs the question, in my skewed view of the world - who, in their right mind, names a song after a yeast infection?

Is this one of those subtle innuendo songs, like "Imaginary Lover" or "Blinded by the Light" ?

I started to pay attention to the chorus, and began to read between the lines...

Oh, Oh, Candida
(yeah, we're on a first name basis ;we've met before.)
We can make it together
(because no one else will want to be with us)
The further from here, girl, the better
(we can buy our treatment at a pharmacy the next town over)
Where the air is fresh and clean
(out in the woods, no one will see us scratch ourselves)

Oh, Candida
(oh, I'm so incredibly miserable)
Just take my hand and I'll lead ya
(to the nearest washroom)
I promise that life will be sweeter
(once the medicine starts to kick in)
'Cuz it says so in my dreams
(dreams - more like frickin' nightmares)

Now if Mr. Orlando, currently in his senior-ish years had any sense whatsoever lurking in that humongous mustache of his, he would be signing up a deal with Monistat.

Stat.

If you will excuse me, I'm off to search iTunes for T.O. & Dawns little-know follow-up hit, "Syphillis".

I'm Sorry, Naomi

Dear Naomi Judd:

I'm sorry. It was me. And I said it. And I'm hoping, through the miracle of the blogosphere, this message magically finds it way to you.


The back story, for all of you who do not have the good fortune to be either Naomi Judd or the Baroness:

Once upon a time, the Baroness had a friend, the Countess of Yik Yak. The Countess' husband was a mucketty-muck for a national music/electronics chain, and as a matter of course would be given VIP tickets to various concerts/symposiums/conferences.

One day, the Countess called to tell the Baroness that they would be going to an all-day event called "The Power of Women". Throughout the day, there would be various inspirational female role models who would tell their stories. They would share their humble beginnings, and how they made their way up in the world to become Women of Influence.

Included would be fascinating speakers such as Dr. Mae Jemison, the first black female NASA astronaut. Anita Roddick, founder of The Body Shop, and reknowned activist and philanthropist would regale us with stories from making soap in her kitchen to travelling to Africa to find just the right nut oil product for her gajillion dollar cosmetic and skin care empire.

From the entertainment world, there would be Kathy Buckley, a deaf comedienne; Leslie Stahl, veteran reporter, and for the grande finale - none other than Miss Naomi Judd, beloved country and western superstar.

Now the Countess of Yik Yak is a C&W lover. And to her, the high point of the day would be hearing Ms. Judd. For me, there were many high points. None of which included Ms. Judd, as I was completely unfamiliar with her life, her music, or her health issues.

I thrilled at hearing Dr. Jemison, seeing as how I'm such a geek and all. I loved Anita Roddick, she with her hippy dippy demeanour cloaking a stealthy, astute business magnate. I wasn't crazy about Leslie Stahl - I kind of found her a little bit under prepared, like maybe she was jettisoned in at the last minute.

Oh, did I mention that according to the rules sent out by the Countess, we had to sit in the front row? And really, who was I to argue? I was there on her coin, and it was, by and large,
a pretty amazing day.

By 3 pm, everyone has spoken except for the Nashville Sweetheart. The Countess is beside herself with anticipation, waiting for the announcer to finish her intro. An-n-n-n-d here comes Naomi, purposefully walking onto center stage, to thunderous applause and a standing ovation.
(Why exactly are we standing? Oh, okay - if it makes you happy, Countess).

This Judd specimen is tiny. Positively avian. The chicken cordon bleu I had for lunch might have weighed more than she does.

And her face is just, well - in my estimation - too perfect.

So, amidst the cacophony of sound as she stands there, basking in the glow, I lean over to the Countess, and in the whispiest of whispers say directly into her ear, "Do you think she's had a face lift? She looks kind of pinchy".

The Countess smiles demurely, and decides against saying anything back to me, as the noise has now reached fever pitch and I would not possibly be able to hear her reply.

Naomi's music is blaring in the background, and wait! She's coming down into the crowd, glad handing, high-fiving, I mean really working. the. room. This woman is an entertainer to the extreme. All of those years of State Fairs and Rodeos have paid off. She goes all the way to the back, to the women who will be forced to watch her on 2 jumbo trons on either side of the stage.

She loves them. They love her. She loves them loving her. It is one huge stroke-o-rama.

She then gets back up on stage, and everyone starts to settle down.

"Before I give y'all my little talk today, I'd like to just tell you how glad I am to be here" (the crowd again goes nuts, then settles).

"You know, working on stage every night, I have to tell you that I have developed, over the years, the ability to hear things that are being said from anywhere in the room."

"Like when I first came out here, I heard someone say 'Do you think she's had a face lift?' ".

Well, crap, Naomi. That would be me.

Me. Front row.

Right next to the Countess, laughing so hard she's about to have a Depends moment.

So, I'm sorry, Naomi.

Of Shape and Forms

The truth of the matter is, I hate forms. And sometimes, said disdain and my bottomless supply of sass catches up with me.

In the last little while, I have had to fill out more than my fair share of redundant paperwork, and it tends to leave me a little bit on the cranky side. And when the Baroness gets cranky, rest assured that something's got to give.

When I had to fill out forms for my cancer surgery, at the end of all the usual medical history rigamarole (which asked both if I had bridgework in my mouth or could I be pregnant - an interesting combination perhaps only seen during last call in some finer Boise Idaho drinking establishments), there was a question that just begged for a sassy answer.

The question: "Is there anything else that we should know about you?"

My answer: "I like fuzzy kittens, rainbows, walks in the rain, I'm a Scorpio (but don't hold it against me), and I aspire to be Canada's answer to Imelda Marcos (shoes only!)".

Not only did I feel better for being sassy, I felt like somehow, in my small little way, I was giving the pointer finger to The Man (kind of like the middle finger, but more gracious with better spelling...). I also used it as a kind of sick litmus test, to see if anyone actually went to the trouble of reading all the way to the end of the form. And if they did, were they simply skimming or were they actually paying attention?

Imagine my surprise when, splayed on an operating table, Dean Martin crooning in the background - just about to have the sleepy-time gas administered - my surgeon leaned over to me, eyes looking very serious over his surgical mask, only to say,

"Fuzzy kittens, huh?"

Need I say it? I love him.

Today, I got caught again. I had filled out these forms in a bit of a hurry, and I do recall that no where near enough caffeine was involved in the informative process .

So imagine my surprise, yet again, when meeting my new doctor for the first time, he shakes my hand in introduction, but does not let go. Instead, he leads me into his office of nurses.

"Ladies", he says, "I am not sure if you are all aware, but Mrs. von Bloggenschtern here is the first Domestic Goddess I have ever had the pleasure of having for a patient".

Somedays, I just love my life.

The Circus You Can't Give Tickets Away For

Yat-da-da-da-da-da-da- duh-dah
Yut-du-du-du-du-du-du-du-duh-dah....

Ladeeeeeeees and Gentlemen! Boys and Girls! Welcome One, and Welcome All to the Magnificent Monthly von Bloggenschtern HOR-MO-NAL CIR-CUS!!!

Today we'll witness the highs! The lows! The thrilling! The death-defying! The terrifying! All in the span of a single afternoon.

If you would all be so kind as to move forwards in your chairs, and then find a comfortable spot, because this is where you'll all be folks - ON THE EDGE OF YOUR SEATS!!!! Be attentive! Be aware!

Look up to the left, everybody. Can't see anything going on in Ring #1? Look up. WA-A-A-AY up.

Our first act of the day will be two fearless trapeze acrobats, all the way from South of the Border - Senorita Sadness and Diego Disappointment! They're 100 dizzying feet up in the air, and ready to jump. The Senorita waits and watches, an-n-n-n-nd she's off! She's started her swing. Back and forth, back and forth.

Here comes Diego. He's off his perch. Now he's swinging back and forth, back and forth. Both acrobats are spinning and hanging and swaying to and fro from their respective trapezes. You all should be aware, these two will come close - so close. BUT! They never, ever, EVER touch each other. To do so would cause an explosion so violent, your teeth would fall right out of your heads.

On to the ring on the right. Here comes the our Ringmaster, the Baroness, somehow even making white jodphurs look sophisticated, and wearing a fierce sequined coat. And there's three barrels in the ring. What do you suppose these are for kids? What? I can't hear you!

LIONS! You're right, and here they come now - killing machines direct from the Serengeti Plains of Africa.

We call this ring the Ring of Hunger. Why? You'll soon see. CRACK! The Baroness wields her whip, and each of the lions climbs up on his own barrel. Do you see them snarl? Can you hear their growls? CRACK! The Baroness is having none of this. Do you see her snarl? Can you hear her stomach growl? Like magic, all of the lions but one have calmed down. Leo is giving her trouble today, folks - maybe he's having a bad hair day. Haw Haw Haw.

Here comes Pyro the Clown with the torch to light the Ring of Fire. This is getting exciting! The lions have trained for years to be able to overcome their fear of flames - and with the Baroness in charge, they know to listen to what she says.

Wait a minute! The Baroness has passed right by the Ring of Fire. What is she doing? She's lighting up something else - ooh, this is getting good! It's the Rotisserie of Fire. I think that the Baroness has plans for that misbehaving Leo. Sure enough - CRACK! The Baroness, in one fell swoop has beheaded Leo with her whip and is roasting him on the spit.

And just like the savage animals she has spent so much time taming, the Baroness is on a feeding frenzy! Leo has been picked clean - no salads for this lady of the ring!! What's that, Baroness? You need some potato chips? I'll get some down to you right away.

Here comes a fire engine to put out the Rotisserie - out come the clowns. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6! Don't forget Tiny, the Mini Fire Marshall - he's #7 - he may be small, folks, but he knows how to handle the hose!

Out come the seltzer bottles - 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 - but wait, the Baroness is stomping over to the fire clowns. With a single laser-sharp look, they're all rushing to get back into their truck and drive away.

The Baroness storms over to the center ring - the Big Top of Anger. Crack! Again her sound of her whip crackles the air, and raises the hair on the back of everyone's neck. Out rush a small army of acrobats.

Each one representative of an annoyance of the Baroness. On the base - Ophelia Obligation. Next to her is Penelope Perimen O' Pause. Next to her, from Poland, Lech F. Respect. Next to him, Walter Weightgain. Rounding out the bottom is Bounder Rees. Oops, I see here from my updated program there will be no Bounder Rees today. In fact, it says here that his return is uncertain. This absence seems to only make the Baroness more angry? Is that possible? Oh, ho, ho! I guess it is!!

I tell you, that's just the start. With the other 256 Limber Lucys, they're about to make the world's largest human pyramid, folks. From the ground right up to the dizzying heights of the tippy top of the tent. And they won't budge. They won't fall. They'll just stay there, in position - like some wonderment of art. To look at. To fume at. To shake a fist at.

That's the end of the von Bloggenschtern Hormonal Circus for today, folks. We're so glad you came to witness the spectacle.

Come back soon - we're here all week!

.

Just Plain Lazy

The Baroness, delicate flower that she is, is very tired. She had many late nights out, way-y-y-y past her bedtime, in the lake-besotten state of Minnesota. Oh, ya.

And now, whilst I know I should be sparkling and travelogue-y and bursting with stories, I'm instead dull and lifeless. Rain checks all around on sparkly for tomorrow. Promise.

I feel kind of lazy doing this - I've never done this before - but meh. I'll get over it soon. I hope you'll be able to move on too.

And because people, for some strange reason, want to know the music that I'm listening to, I will divulge the rockin' travel tunes I loaded up before I left:

1. Richard Cheese - selections from Aperitif for Destruction, I'd Like a Virgin, Lounge Against the Machine, & The Sunny Side of the Moon:
. Welcome to the Jungle
. Let's Get it Started
. You Oughta Know
. Enter Sandman
. Butterfly
. Milkshake
. Personal Jesus
. 99 Luftballoons
. Fight for your Right
. Baby Got Back
. Sunday Bloody Sunday
. Rock the Casbah
. Come Out and Play
. Been Caught Stealing

2. The new cd by She & Him, "Volume 1"

3. Ryan Adams and the Cardinals, "Cold Roses"

4. The Juno soundtrack

5. Odds and Ends:
. Breathe (2AM) - Anna Nalick
. Waterloo - Abba
. Dancing Queen - Abba
. Take a Chance on Me - Abba
. Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da - Beatles
. You're So Vain - Carly Simon
. Le Freak - Chic
. Lady Marmalade - Christina, Pink, Mya
. Goodbye Yellow Brick Road - Elton John
. Bennie & the Jets - Elton John
. Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word - Elton John
. Hold Me Closer, Tony Danza - Elton John
. I Ran - Flock of Seagulls
. Sweet Child of Mine - Guns & Roses
. Upside Down - Jack Johnson
. Hurt - Johnny Cash
. Get Rhythm - Johnny Cash
. I Got Stripes - Johnny Cash
. I Walk the Line - Johnny Cash
. Ring of Fire - Johnny Cash
. Folsom Prison Blues - Johnny Cash
. Dick in a Box - Justin Timberlake and Andy Samberg
. All the Young Dudes - Mott the Hoople
. The Time Warp
. Everybody Hurts - REM
. What's the Frequency, Kenneth? - REM
. Oye Como Va - Santana
. Pride and Joy - Stevie Ray Vaughn
. My Doorbell - The White Stripes
. Icky Thump - The White Stripes
. Baba O'Reilly - The Who
. Tush - ZZ Top

I don't know what it all means. Anything here you'd particularly like to talk about/comment on? Bring it.

Please god, just bring it. And put it over on the dresser will ya, hon?

.

The (Polka) Time is Nye

Last evening, at approximately 11:20 pm LOLT (Land O' Lake Time), a bronze life-sized statue of Mary Tyler Moore could have toppled and brought the Baroness to her untimely death; she would have died a happy camper.

Why, you ask? Because she and her entourage would have just exited the fine establishment at 112 E. Hennepin Avenue, Minneapolis known as Nye's Polonaise.

The Baroness had heard about this 8th Wonder of the World on her first visit to Minny a couple of years ago. But bad timing prevailed, and she never got there. The factum that burrowed into her brain was that this place not only was a hall of fine dining, but attached to it was a bar that had a cover band.

But not any cover band. No, no, no. The Baroness never falls for the pedestrian and mundane.

This cover band? Well, if I were to tell you that their moniker is "The World's Most Dangerous Polka Band" - would that fill in the blanks?

And they do not just play Polka music - they have a wide, vast repetoire. With Joe Hayden on vocals and trumpet, and Ruth Adams wailing on the accordian, plus a rotating roster of drummers - this ensemble is on fire (please note, however, they do not spit fire nor have any pyrotechnics - that would be so very gauche).

They took requests. They took limited breaks. They were so beyond my wildest dreams, I woke up with a smile still plastered onto my face.

I had the time of my life. As did my friend's 92 year old mother-in-law, who we brought along for muscle (in case the crowd got out of hand).

Huge thanks to Austin and Mark for making a Baroness' dream come true.

Oom Pah!!

.

Ammurcka.The.Beautiful.

While yesterday the Baroness extolled the many cultural virtues of life up north of the 49th, today let me briefly summarize the things I'm really appreciating about my visit to the Land O' Lakes before I go off on today's secret mission.

While this Top Secret field op is shrouded in mystery, and I must travel in anonymity, I will divulge that it has to do with my actions boosting the American economy.

I'll be brief - 4 words:

Nordstroms.

Rack.

Target.

Kohl's.

That is all. The Baroness has left the estate. I repeat. The Baroness has left the estate.

Thoughtful Thursday

While the Baroness may be an international jet setter, let it be known that at my very core, I am a huge homer.

I exude Canadiana. I love that the beaver is the national symbol. I watch "Corner Gas" (and guffaw appropriately)(yet politely)(Jackass). I think that Tim Horton's steeped tea beats high tea at the Savoy hands down.

I will defend to the death the brilliant lyricism of Gordon Lightfoot (a national treasure) and I watch all Mike Myers movies on principal alone ("So I Married an Axe Murderer"? Sheer cinematic genius).

Today's TT comes from another brilliant Canadian songwriter, Ms. Joni Mitchell.

WHOA there! Before all you dudes out there click off - please, please, please - The Baroness beseeches you - give her lyrics a chance.

I've been thinking lately about how cyclical life seems to be; vague familiarity sometimes peering out from behind a familiar phrase, sometimes laid at our feet before us by our children, sometimes raining down from a menacing cloud that has never quite cleared.

And this loop of circular thought got this song rambling around and around in my head.

Without further ado, The Circle Game.

Yesterday a child came out to wonder
Caught a dragonfly inside a jar
Fearful when the sky began to thunder
And tearful at the falling of a star

Then the child moved ten times round the seasons
Skated over ten clear frozen streams
Words like when you're older must appease him
And promises of someday fill his dreams

And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We're captive on a carousel of time
We can't return we can only look
Behind from where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game

Sixteen springs and sixteen summers gone now
Cartwheels turn to car wheels round the town
And they tell him take your time it won't be long now
'Til you drag your feet to slow the circles down

(chorus)

So the years spin by and now the boy is twenty
Though his dreams have lost some grandeur coming true
There'll be new dreams maybe better dreams and plenty
Before the last revolving year is through

And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We're captive on a carousel of time
We can't return we can only look

Behind from where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game.
Joni Mitchell

Wise Wednesday

Darlings! The Baroness is on the run - Jeeves must get me to the tarmac as I fly at some completely uncivilized hour, off to the Land of One Thousand Lakes and Lutefisk. I do not know exactly what lutefisk is, but it sounds extremely full of the Na to the Cl and altogether nasty. I'll be giving it a pass, thank you very much. But please, don't let me stop you - have seconds if you'd like.

I thought it would be good manners to learn a little bit more about the fair state of MN other than it is home to The Mall of Umuur-ka. While the old me would have considered this enough, the new me is on a quest for knowledge. Here's what I know so far:

1. The shape of the state looks like Spongebob Squarepants with a bite taken out of it (no doubt from some mutant lutefisk...)
2. The name "Minnesota" is based on the Dakota Sioux word for "sky-tinted water".

3. State Motto: L'Etoile du Nord (Star of the North - too awkward for hockey team name)

4. State Fish: Walleye (this is not, apparently, an insult in Fishworld)

(note how the eye follows you everywhere)

5. State Tree: Norway Pine

(most have the initials O+L 4Ever carved into the bark; only 13 do not)

6. State Muffin: Blueberry (how can you not love that?)

7. State Flower: Ladyslipper (and we know how the Baroness feels about shoes...)

Magnifique, non?

8. State Drink: Milk ( Ho hum. I was hoping for something a little more spirited)

9. State Fruit:

(I call him "Honeycrisp Apple")

Radical Thought of the Day

(OK, radical for me - I'm hardly Black Panther material - but I do like those jaunty berets they were prone to wearing...)

Bear with me here, people - The Baroness is only working on Coffee #1 of the day.

But a thought that occurred to me while pondering through my Intellectual Devotional (seriously, I bought it for the title alone), and reading about Aristotle and the subject of logic and how it pertains to Philosophy (yah, I used the big "P" here - it's that important).

So, about the whole education thing. And the "science" of it all.

Rather that bustling children out the door at the age of 3 to go to pre-pre-school to finger paint and build puzzles and basically run around like caged banshees, wouldn't it make sense to have an education system where the formative years were spent learning life skills - I'll call it the 5 C's: cooking, cleaning, construction, community involvement, camper training? I'm not talking Montessori - it would be a little more emcompassing than that.

Then when they're at a point where they can appreciate how the applications of what they're learning fit into the world they've been moving in already, and they're eager to learn more on a higher level - then we introduce the hard-core education.

Think of all the people who choose to go back for post-secondary education after moving in the "real" world for a while. They go back thirsty for knowledge, eager to learn ways to make improvements where they've seen a need.

Just thinkin'. That's all.

Crowning Horror-y

May the Baroness just be a tad capricious for a moment or two? While I'm fully aware that there is a lot of bad stuff going down in the world around us, there's something that is sticking in the noble craw, people, and I have to get it out.

Hair.

There, I've said it. Specifically, the hair of me. Specifically, the hair of me last evening when I had to attend a very important formal fundraising auction.

To give a bit of a backstory, I have had a great hairdresser. She has been with me through many tranformations, the latest of which was - ironically- the shaving off of my chemotherapy induced clumpy hair, and the subsequent grooming and architectural engineering of the new growth. Before I (voluntarily) lost my hair, it was naturally wavy, but definitely had a mind of its own and needed a strong hand and scorching hot flat iron to make it see the error of its every which way.

Now, my second hair is another matter entirely. While before, my hair might have been a bit of a weekend rebel, this new batch (which, don't get me wrong, I'm extremely thankful for) is a Class A, juvenile deliquent headed for a correction facility,bat-sh*t loco curl-o-rama. Which is kind of cool. But, the honeymoon period is now over, and I'm finding it a little frustrating to mould these locks into something even vaguely socially acceptable.

Which is where the good hair guru Jen came in. She was the Countess of Color, the Duchess of Drying, the Seductress of Straightening. I loved her. And then, selfish little her, she got pregnant and is now on maternity leave. For a whole selfish year. What is that woman thinking? So selfish.

Cut to yesterday. I already had the emsemble prepared, and the coupe de grace would be the hair. I admit, my ideas were a little lofty. I was thinking something loose, curly, sexy, kinda messy like a Julie Christie:

Exhibit A

(for Ahhh, isn't she just beautiful?)

What I ended up with instead was a cross between this:

Exhibit B
(for Blarg)

And this:

Exhibit C
(for Celtic Curls of Hell)

I know, I know, it's silly and shallow. But on the one night a year when I get to go out and feel like a really princess, why did I end up feeling like this?

Exhibit D
(for Don't Even Get Me Started)

Bah.

I wish you all good hair days for the week.

Affectionately,
The Baroness von Puli

.

Thoughtful Thursday

Inch your way a little closer to the screen - The Baroness has got another secret to tell you...

I'm kind of digging the minimalistic thing. That One Word Frickin' Meme really shifted my thinking around.

Nah, not really. I'm just wicked busy, and can't seem to get any of my racing thoughts still enough to lasso and wrestle to the page.

Today's TT is from a book I rediscovered recently in our vast bathroom library. And for all of you hoity-toity's out there who deny that any reading occurs in the water closet, we think you doth protest too much. In the vonB manse, we celebrate the multi-tasking of education and elimination.

Moving on...This is from the original of the Richard Carlson's "Don't Sweat the Small Stuff" book series - the title of the piece alone is beautiful and speaks volumes in its brevity:

"Be Grateful when You're Feeling Good and
Graceful when You're Feeling Bad"

Not the easiest things to do, but maybe do-able enough that you won't break a sweat.

Peaceful Thursday, everyone.


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Props to the Pumpkin

Those in the know around the von Bloggenschtern community know 2 irrefutable facts about the Baroness - don't dare phone her after 10:00 pm unless someone is dead, and she has a complete and utter disdain for chain e-mails.

You know, the sweet, mushy ones from Barbie or National Geographic, or the Dalai Lama. Please don't misunderstand. I quite like reading these, and will go so far as to say that a good deal of them make me misty. What sticks in my craw is that proviso at the end. You know exactly what I'm talking about. The one that says that if I don't send this off in the next 20 seconds to 1000 of my closest personal friends, a giant karmic fireball will strike me down right where I sit in front of the computer screen, muttering " Dammit - not another one of these bloody things...".

I have many issues with these - best left to discuss another day.

However.

What I do love about the blogosphere is that is provides us all the opportunity, through blogroll and otherwise, to get to know people we would otherwise never meet. It provides the opportunity to shine a light on someone special, and to participate in some small way in their lives. Maybe even do some good.

I met the good Countess Gina through my recent submission at IB. By going to her blog page, I learned about her wonderful mother, Tina, who is facing a cancer challenge. Gina has set up a blog site for her mom, and also created Team Tina, a widget you can put on your page to bring more people by to Tina's site:

As far as I can ascertain, the agenda is beautiful and healing in its simplicity - go here just to say hey, set for a while, and send some virtual hugs Tina's way.

This is why I love blogging.

My 15 Minutes are Almost Up! Hurry!!!

What a difference a day makes; 24 little hours...

I actually set a toe outside the confines of my principality today.

And may I say, the experience was sweet (dude).

And soon over.

The Power of One

The lovely Lori over at Serendipity and Rain has thrown down a mighty challenge for the always-verbose Baroness. And while I would normally mutter a "Bah-ring it onnnn", this was the challenge equivalent of asking ol' Lemonhundt to stop shedding like a mini-buffalo. I was gob-smacked. This woman is obviously well-versed in Sun Tzu's Art of War - find your opponent's weakness. Wait. Watch. Call for take out.

She has tagged me for a meme - a One Frickin' Word Meme. Yikes. Although initially I swooned, and required a long nap to recover, I spent the rest of the weekend crafting, thesaurussing, scheming and mercilessly editing. Believe you me people - there's a lot that goes on behind the scenes to make the magic. My wrist is positively arthritic from all of the wand waving. (and yes, here I actually mean wand waving.)

I present to you: "The One Frickin' Word Meme" (don't get too excited - this won't happen often - the brevity is giving me a rash...)

Your mobile phone? Pocketed

Your significant other? Indulgent

Your hair? Unmanageable

Your mother? Phenomenal

Your father? Difficult

Your favorite thing? Writing

Your dream last night? Vivid

Your favorite drink? Pepsi

Your dream/goal? Published

The room you’re in? Office

Your ex? Bereft

Your fear? Recurrence

Where do you want to be in 6 years? Book-signing ( I’m counting this as one word)

Where were you last night? Nephew’s

What you’re not? Confrontational

Muffins? Blueberry

One of your wish list items? Labeller

Where you grew up? Prairies

The last thing you did? Caffeinated

What are you wearing? Glasses

Your TV? Perpetual

Your pets? Privileged

Your computer? Opiate

Your life? Whirlwind

Your mood? Content

Missing someone? Mom

Your car? Dependable

Something you’re not wearing? Fur

Favorite Store? Nordstrom’s

Your summer? Promising

Like someone? Everyone

Your favorite color? Pink

When is the last time you laughed? Always

Last time you cried? March

I won't tag anyone, as I just sent out a meme not too long ago. However, should you find yourself completely out of Suduku puzzles, or waiting for parts for your build-at-home Hubble telescope, indulge in this - it could be just the challenge you're looking for.

How About That?

A few days back, the Baroness was having a lovely off-line conversation with one of my commentors (and you know who you are). This person suggested that I might have been a bureaucrat in a past life, as I continually appear to come up with new and odd holidays every weekend. There was also concern that I carry a briefcase with me everywhere (containing a fine array of crackers), and wear a suit upon retiring in the evening. Sheesh. Everyone's so darned scrutinizing these days...

I assure you all, dear readers, that I am not, nor have I ever been, a member of the Bureaucratic Party. Although I do admit to owning a bureau or two, and did party quite extensively in my early 20's (those of you with pictures supporting this statement - I am willing to negotiate).

As clever as I would like to think I am, I could not possibly come up with such a range of celebratory occasions. Instead, I use my keen researching skills to scour the web for things that might enlighten, enrich, or perhaps amuse.

Without further ado, I give you this weekend's Days of Wonder:

Saturday, May 3rd
For the child or child-at-heart, today is a fantastic opportunity to delve into the world of the pale, the spectacled, the D&D crowd, the ultra-cool graphic novel set. For today is "Free Comic Book Day". No kidding. If you go to this fantastic portkey, it will let you know which stores throughout Canada and the US are participating. Supplies are limited - so don't bogart the Betty and Veronicas, dude - I can't get there right away.

For the not-so-childish at heart, today is also "National Public Radio Day". [Note here that I was going to be all funny, and reel off a few of the obtuse program titles, but for the life of me, I could not make hide nor hair of their schedule]. I urge you to have a look - maybe Public Radio is just for smart people (at least their schedule is). I don't know. Duh. As an aside, and to be inclusionary, please find a link to our beloved CBC Radio here. Now this I know - and it rawks.

Sunday, May 4th
The Baroness is a strong believer that in order to start making things right with the world, ya gotta start in your own backyard. Get to know your neighbor. Volunteer if you can. I need to tell you about an organization that touts today as a day "to make a difference in their communities through helpful projects that connect youths and adults". Admirable goal, if I do say so myself. They've assigned Sunday as "Join Hands Day", and it sounds like a fantastic endeavour. Check it out.

And then there's a different community to acknowledge. They're loud, and proud, and rather tasty with a lemon and rosemary shoved up their hoo hoo. Today is "Respect for Chickens Day". I'm not sure if "respect" here refers to the trials and tribulations they must go through from the egg to the plate, or if it's because they're mean, vindictive creatures who would peck your eye out if you were a minute late with their feed. You choose. Just hurry up and give them their props, then run to the other side of the fence.

Try to enjoy your first May weekend, everyone! TTFN!!

Affectionately,
The Baroness

Weighing on My Mind

The Baroness is usually reticent about splaying anything too personal out into the universe. I don't exactly know why the need for me to do this exists right now, it somehow feels necessary.

It was, in retrospect, almost inevitable. But I thought if I put it off, something miraculous would somehow happen - there's that eternal/infernal hope thing of mine rearing its pretty head again.

You may recall, from past posts, that I've mentioned I'm a big-boned gal. I'm also tall. So, for quite some time, any extra weight that I've carried around could be disguised by clever packaging, smoke, mirrors, and - of course - fabulous, distracting shoes. Also, if I'm never still for too long, no one has had the opportunity to see the sum of the parts. My great plan? Keep. Moving.

The one person who I couldn't snow with visual trickery or charm is my skeletal GP. At a recent visit when I went to ask to be tested for hypothyroidism (screw you, Oprah, and your stupid suggestions), Dr. Skin N. Bones also added a fasting glucose test to the page.

And, wouldn't ya just know it? The polls are in, and... I'm ahead of McCain! Quite the victory for the (not-so) Quiet Canadian. Oh yeah. I'm also in the danger zone for developing diabetes. Yay me. So what does this mean? In a nutshell, it means that rather than skirting the issue of losing weight, I'm now going to be placed on a highly restrictive, medically-supervised meal plan. As my doctor so charmingly put it, "We can deal with this now, and get it taken care of as soon as possible, or we can mop up the mess later".

Now how did that man know how much I hate mopping up messes? Bless him, for providing an medical alternative to housework.

Here's the thing. The last time I lost a lot of weight, I was seriously ill. And it did a number on my head. I looked thinner than I had in quite a long while. Believe me, it wasn't intentional. In fact, the huge red flag that made me worried about having colon cancer was that I just stopped being hungry. And honeys - I'm always hungry.

The reason for the visible weight loss was that was that I just stopped eating because everything went right through, so I just drank protein shakes. I should also mention here that I wanted my condition kept on the down low - one of the communities I move in seems to thrive on medical gossip, and I couldn't bear the thought of being the topic of someone's conversation. Again, in retrospect, maybe that wasn't such a fantastic decision, but I had to draw some boundaries for myself.

I was amazed when people kept coming up to me and telling me how great and beautiful I looked. Because I knew differently. And when they would ask what my secret was, how could I spill to them that I'd dropped 50 on the "Tumour-Fast" diet plan?

Now I'm faced with losing weight for health, rather than in spite of it. It's got my head spinning.

I don't know how this is all going to play out, but what I do know is that it has to work somehow. I'm out of options.

Why do I feel compelled to share with the class? One reason is this past Wednesday's post. The decision to show this poor woman's patootie has sat wrong with me since I did it. It was mean. And petty. I feel so bad. I'm a large woman. That could easily have been a picture of me. I would be so ashamed if my picture somehow made it online.

I'm just sorry I can't take back that post. But I'll delete it instead.

I guess there are just days when I have to be genuine with you all and come clean.

To paraphrase dear Momma at Poetic License, peace to you all.

Thoughtful Thursday

Once upon a time, the Baroness had a life that she considered to be extremely stressful. Her viscera roiled from dawn to dusk.

To cope, she bought book after book (she has always been a reader, after all). Some were self-help books, but most were of the Day Book variety. Where each day of the year had its own soothing thought. Some were meditative. Some were inspirational. Some were platitudinal, and on some days, that was ok too.

The attraction to these kinds of books were that they were manageable. One could fit one in during a few spare moments of a lunch hour, or at home when the potatoes were on the boil.

Today's Thoughtful Thursday comes courtesy of a Day Book which I keep returning to over and over again. The Day Book is the lovely Sarah Ban Breathnach's Simple Abundance, and the poem she refers to today is from Thomas Gray (1716-1771) - "Elegy Written in a Country Church-Yard".

I won't divulge the whole piece (it's quite lovely, but also quite long) - feel free to go here to read it in its entirety. One of the stanzas that stuck out for me on this day is this:

Full many a gem of purest ray serene
The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear:
Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.

You, dear readers, are such a diverse and talented lot.

Please, please, continue to use your voice to become that fragrant bloom found in the desert and that luminescent gem discovered under the sea.