Did you know that, last, Wednesday, September 24, was, National, Punctuation, Day. I. am, so. Deeply. saddened, and! disappointed, to “have” missed ‘ this amazing – and I do mean amazing (I really do) – day : when ; I could : celebrate ; the wondrous world of punctuation!
I blame: the fact: that I missed this “jolly holiday” not on the fact that,… why the hell would I know?! But because … ‘ my bizarre : holiday calendar !! only (informed) me that Sept 24 was the Festival of Latest Novelties. I hope everyone celebrated with their favorite Sarah Palin action figure:
Also, as today is September 30, it is your final day to celebrate National Chocolate Milkshake Month. Go out and splurge on a five dollar shake.
P.S. Apologies to everyone whose eyes hurt after reading this. I kind of felt like I was reading those pages when Charlie first learned about punctuation in Flowers for Algernon.
Here’s an easy vegan, gluten-free, casein-free treat that the kids really enjoyed making.
Ingredients:
1 banana per two people
3 oz. vegan chocolate (not as hard to get as you might think)
Dessert topping of your choice, eg: cookie crumbs, chopped nuts, crushed cereal. As for amount, I just pour out enough to cover a plate:
Step One: Cut a banana in half, impale (stronger word than ’stick’, no?) on a popsicle stick, then freeze:
Step Two: Melt chocolate on the stove top (note my snazzy double boiler). I added a little bit of almond milk because I found the chocolate melted quicker and more smoothly than when I tried it with just chocolate alone. I might have been imagining such things, but that’s nothing new.
Step Three: Dip the bananas in the chocolate until coated on all sides
Step Four: Roll the bananas around in the topping of your choice. I attempted a batch of snowball cookies the other day with corn flour that came out too crumbly, so I crushed them up and used them as the topping (the way I see it, the cookies were telling me they wanted to be crumbs anyway).
(Just know: If you let the kids do it, the bananas come out unattractive, but they have more fun. )
Step Five: Freeze for at least five minutes so the chocolate can harden; ward the kids off from eating the leftover topping; you can continue to freeze the treat as long as you want. We stored ours for a couple days because the kids found they were so rich they only needed a few bites to get full.
I never knew Paul Newman, but that didn’t stop me from feeling sadness when I saw the headline announcing his death. When there’s talk of Paul Newman movies, there are limitless movies to reference. There’s this:
“Nobody can eat 50 eggs.”
And then there’s this: “What is the victory of a cat on a hot tin roof?”
And there’s also this: “Next time I say let’s go to Bolivia, let’s GO TO BOLIVIA.”
As for me, I have two favorite Paul Newman movies. The Long Hot Summer and Hud.
Back in the day when I had cable and watched TV leisurely, I enjoyed the AMC channel. And on one random day, I saw these two movies back to back, mesmerized.
The Long, Hot Summer is based on a few works by William Faulkner. So, um, it’s about the South. We have the overbearing southern father, Will Varner (Orson Welles), his strong-willed daughter, Clara Varner (Joanne Woodward), his demanding fiancée, Minnie Littlejohn (Angela Lansbury), and his erratic son, Jody Varner (Anthony Franciosa). And along comes Ben Quick (Paul Newman), the sexy stranger. Will Varner embraces Ben Quick, offers him work. He sees in Quick the strength and smarts he admires in men, the kind of man his son is not, and he wants to pair Quick up with his daughter. The movie has a rocking kiss scene between Joanne Woodward and Paul Newman, rocking enough to tell me there’s no wondering as to how they stayed married all those years.
In Hud, which is based on a Larry “Lonesome Dove” McMurtry novel, Paul Newman is the older of two sons born to a Texas rancher, Homer Bannon (Melvyn Douglas). Hud is rebellious, defiant, and, of course, sexy. There’s Alma the house maid (Patricia Neal), with whom there’s a slightly flirtatious relationship that takes a bad turn when Hud has a bad night. Also along for the ride in family turmoil is Lonnie Bannon, Hud’s nephew, who lives with Homer. Lonnie idolizes Hud, but as he spends more time with Hud, the glamour fades. The family ranch is in jeopardy due to an outbreak of foot-and-mouth disease and Homer wants to do the right thing while Hud wants to stop him from being so scrupulous. There’s death and disappointment, some remorse, and life goes on. In short, it’s the work of Larry McMurtry on the big screen.
In addition to a career full of wonderful roles, I admire Paul Newman for never living a life like the brash upstarts he often portrayed. He was admirable man who cared about the world we live in, and acted on this care, founding an organic food line and a camp for children. His life is one I dream of imitating. All the best to his family.
He is a frail mummy, as most mummies are (perhaps it’s to do with their organs being removed).
His arms are crossed over his chest and he is tightly bandaged from head to toe. His bandages show the wear of time, slightly gray with fraying edges.
He is a good mummy. But at $79, he is a mummy that costs the equivalent of feeding my entire family in the Philippines for a month (we’re talking ALL the cousins, even third and twice removed).
He is also a special mummy. A mummy whose green eyes dart from side to side when you least expect it, and then he will emit from beneath his gray, fraying bandages an eeeevil laugh.
HAAAAA HA HA HA HA HA!!!!!!!
When this $79, well-made mummy with the green eyes cast his evil laugh, I took a step back, startled, because I did not expect him to come with sound effects (though that does explain the price).
The other person who did not expect our friend the mummy to look around and cackle was Little No Limit, who emitted an equally loud scream, nay, louder than the mummy’s, and then she turned and ran. And when I say ran, I mean RAN. Ran for dear life. Ran straight to the exit, then through it, and went directly outside and INTO THE STREET. And I chased her, running like a damn mummy was chasing me, and I swooped her into my arms and out of the street, and thankfully, there were no cars at the moment.
I stepped off of the street in the direction going back to the Lowe’s entrance and her nails dug into my neck and she clutched me with her whole being and screamed:
“No! No! He’s scary! To the car! I - Want - To - Go - To - The - Car!”
So.
She CAN speak. She CAN tell me what she needs, and she CAN do it in complete sentences.
I attended my very first NHL game last night, the Anaheim Ducks vs. the San Jose Sharks. We had seats close enough to see the players’ faces get smashed against the plexi-glass (though, sadly, I never caught it on film).
I’m embarrassed to admit I never quite realized how violent hockey truly is. Yes, I’ve heard all the jokes, but really, I can’t believe that the refs just stand around and let the players duke it out. I saw more live fights in this one game than I have seen in the rest of my life combined.
Needless to say, I told Husband we should buy season passes.
There is a wonderful adrenaline rush that accompanies attendance at a hockey game. For those with aggression issues, hockey is a considerable outlet, because this is essentially what it’s like to go to a hockey game:
1. Sit down, make yourself comfy.
2. There’s a face against the glass! Cheer!
3. There’s a fight! Cheer louder!
4. Score! Cheer! (but not as loud as you would for a fight)
5. There’s a fight! Cheer some more!
6. Beer refill!
7. There’s a fight! Throw your own fist in the air!
8. Pee break!
9. There’s a fight! Shout out “This is awesome!”
10. The barely legal girls clean the ice in their revealing outfits! Wonder why this is necessary.
11. There’s another fight! Yeah!
12. More beer!
13. There’s a fight! Cheer until your voice goes hoarse!
Seriously, there’s something wrong with hockey players’ medulla oblongatas.
(The only picture of a fight that I caught on film can be seen in this post.)
I recently received an email announcing an Obama support party entitled “Obama + Cake.”
“More people will come if they think there’ll be punch and pie.”
Unfortunately, the message did not specify what kind of cake would be served and I’m not about to drive across the county for some crappy white cake with bad frosting and confetti sprinkles when I can make my vegan, gluten free orange cake at home.
Today, I received a message entitled “Obama and your living room” which frankly sounded a little stalker-ish. After reading the email, it turned out they’ve received such enthusiastic response to their party invitations that they want more people to host parties. The message does not, however, specify who will provide the cake, and I just don’t know if I can offer up my living room without knowing that.
So, what next? “Obama + Pizza”? “Obama + Bunco”? I’d prefer something more along the lines of ”Obama and your health insurance.”
“This is Graham Roumieu’s fourth or fifth book. He is willing to accept honorary doctorates from any reputable learning institution.”
This is what prefaces the start of the book, Bigfoot I Not Dead, and already, I knew I was in for a laugh.I checked this out after Hayden’s Ferry Review recommended Me Write Book and I Not Dead. My county’s entire library system did not have Me Write Book, but they did have I Not Dead.
I Not Dead is a series of statements written by Bigfoot. They’re written in a diary entry kind of way, though it’s not intended to be a Bigfoot journal. It’s more like a chronicle of the thoughts that go through Bigfoot’s mind, among them “Me totally look awesome on camera” and “How many reflective vest Bigfoot have to wear before people stop run Bigfoot over on foggy mountain road at night?”
More than the writing itself, the illustrations are the true gem in this book. I love the portraits of Bigfoot, and the drawings of what has become of his forest friends when he visits his old stomping grounds is an image that will remain in my mind for some time (think crack pipe). Roumieu clearly has the same sick sense of humor I do, so I laughed a lot while reading this. If you’re a bit twisted, you’ll laugh too.
Unfortunately, the illustrations were so appealing that the kids wanted to read it too, and I’m not entirely sure it’s on par with If You Give a Mouse a Cookie. I wound up showing them select pages and making up my own words. “Look - Bigfoot likes to jog because it makes him healthy!” (Hey, a mom’s gotta do what a mom’s gotta do.)
