Lazy Sunday

It all started with Rob Lowe.

Well, that isn't exactly true. It started with peacocks. A picture of a peacock, actually. A picture of the peacock that tried to attack me in Taos. The picture is on my refrigerator, and I was adjusting it while on the phone with my sister. I was having trouble due to all the magnets and what-not on my refrigerator.

"I think I have too much shit on my refrigerator," I said to Jenny.
"I can't even see it, and I know that's true," she replied.

She was right, of course. I treat my refrigerator like a giant cork board, with tons of magnets and pictures and postcards. It's like a scrapbook you can look at everyday, without the worry of buying acid-free paper, special scissors and fancy doo-dads.

Here it is in all its glory:



Here's the top:



And here's the bottom:



It's a lot. I know. There are some who would love it. I have a friend whose refrigerator is so covered, I don't even know what color it is. And there are some that would just gasp in horror. Chris' ex-roommate was one such person. He considered any magnet on the refrigerator to be "low class." Because when I think of the epicenter of class, I think this boy's hometown of Aynor, S.C.

But, like I said, it's a huge scrapbook. There are magnets from all the states I've been to. The Atlanta skyline magnet I bought at the airport the first time I went back home after moving to Florida. The postcard Chris sent me from Paris, and the one Mat (just one "t") sent me from London. The picture of me and Jenny and the one of me and my girls! The magnet to remind me to feel my girls. The banner I stole from O'Shea's on St. Patrick's Day, and the Steelers flag I stole from some bar in Coca Beach (your keys can work as well as a knife in cutting those things free in a hurry...) All my Beatles magnets. And my hotties! Sting! Ryan Reynolds... you just want to rub that belly like he's Buddha. And both the George's. Bob Barker! And the peacock that tried to attack me, with it's tail all spread out.

And then, in this week's Entertainment Weekly was this picture. I knew I had to somehow add it to the mix.



You see, it did all start with Rob Lowe. Way back when, I got a subscription to 16 magazine. Not to be confused with Seventeen, 16 was full of pull-out posters of all the hotties. And all the hotties were in The Outsiders. My closet doors were covered in posters of Rob, Tommy Howell, Emilio Estevez, Matt Dillon and Ralph Macchio. Oh, and Tom Cruise. (This was way before he was so creepy.)

So, to get Rob up, some things have to go. I took every thing off:



Blah! How boring!!! And EWWWW! How dirty!!! OK, so first a good scrub (each magnet got a wipe with my counter wipes, too). Here they all are in a stack.



Oh crap!!! There are more on the side!!



OK, now here they all are. It's not so many. Is it?



I know. Not all of them will go back up...I started placing things with a bit more restraint. Although somethings most definitely stay. I cut back on the states, now only using the three that mean the most, New York, Georgia and Florida. I said good-bye to the St. Patrick's Day banner, and the second picture of Ryan. The Sting and I will go in a frame. And there is no more fun with Dick and Jane (I think I want to white out the "e's" on those and send them to Dick and Jan...). And so, here is the result. Still fun, but not as cluttered.







Maybe next Sunday, I'll tackle the inside.

And, because I like to whistle while I work, here is the "Rob Lowe's still got it" playlist!

Taxman The Beatles
Just a Friend Bizz Markie (this was one of our sorority songs...except we sang "You! You got what I need. Too bad you're just a TKE. Too bad you're just a TKE.")
Sweet Dreams Patsy Cline
Take Me to Heart Quarterflash ("I'm the chill that never left your spine.")
Love is a Battlefield Pat Benatar ("We are young....")
Push Sarah McLaughlin
Unfinished Barenaked Ladies
Ain't No Other Man Christina Aguillera
Let Love be Your Energy Robbie Williams
Summertime Barenaked Ladies
Surrendering Alanis Morissette
Money Can't Buy It Annie Lennox
Every Woman in the World Air Supply (not embarrassed at all!!!)
Home Sweet Home Motley Crue (Although Vince Neil should be with all that botox!)
Joy in Repetition Prince ("Four-letter words are seldom heard with such dignity and bite.")
All my Loving Paul McCartney (Live, from the tour I saw in the ATL with Kara!)
Ruby Tuesday NOT the Rolling Stones (I wish I knew who did this cover. It was on a mix sent by a friend, and he didn't list the songs.)
Way Out Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Girlfriend Matthew Sweet (Also someone I saw in concert in the ATL with Kara!)
Leather & Lace Stevie Nicks and Don Henley
Jerome Barenaked Ladies (Kevin wrote this song. He told me about it when we chatted.)
Cry Little Sister Sisters of Mercy (From The Lost Boys. RIP Corey. OH, he had a Rob Lowe poster too!!!)
The Sun Always Shines on TV A-ha

Musings on Margaret

When people talk about their grandmothers, they tell stories of little old ladies who don't do much or are even in homes, saying, "well, she is 80."

I've never thought of my grandmother, Margaret, as old, even when she was 80 (she's 88 now). I actually think she's pretty fabulous. And, if Betty White's appearance on Saturday Night Live shows us anything, it's that 88 might just be the next.... well, at least 75.

Margaret has been on her own for 20 years. My Grandfather, Jack, died from pancreatic cancer when I was a senior in high school. I say "on her own," but that's not really true. She's been surrounded by groups of friends ever since. She's gone on cruises, and is always out, playing cards, going to lunch or the movies. It's rare to actually find her at home if you call. Margaret has shit to do.

I have been thinking about my gram a lot lately, remembering things and smiling at her fabulosity.

Crescent rolls. When we were little, our parents went to Europe, so Jenny and I stayed with our grandparents. Every morning, there would be the pop of the can, and then the smell of Pillsbury Crescent Rolls. That smell always reminds me of her.

So does sandalwood. Grandma had this owl incense burner, and I would always ask her to light a cone of incense. I don't know why I was so obsessed with it, but she would always light one for me. A couple years ago, she gave me the owl incense burner. I have it in my living room (And, of course, sandalwood cones).

Margaret likes hair to be neat. She is forever saying she wishes people's hair was neat. (I think I get that from her, because I'm forever looking at people's hair and rolling my eyes.) I can only imagine what she thinks of the unruly mop on the top of my head. She probably rolls her eyes behind my back. That's okay, Gram. I roll mine right at my reflection.

She loves to play games. Scrabble, pinnacle, rummy, Monopoly. And she's cut throat at it. She plays to win, my Grandma, and she doesn't care if you are her loving granddaughter. If you don't have the money to pay the rent on her Boardwalk, she will laugh and say, "Give up??" She's in our football pool, and not this past season (which I won, thank you very much), but I believe the season before, she won. She didn't just win. She kicked our asses from the beginning of the season on. And just try to keep her away from a slot machine.

She also loves her vodka martinis. On the rocks. With olives. Stirred with a small, white, plastic spoon. She brings her own olives when she visits, because when she buys a jar, she drains out the brine and fills the jar with water, to cut down on the salt.

When I call her, or when she sees me, she stops herself before saying my name. There is always that little pause where she wants to call me "Shelly," like they did when I was little, but knows I go by Michelle, now. Sometimes, she stops herself mid-name, so she ends up calling me "Shmichelle." Again, that's okay, Gram. You can call me anything you want.

And, she can be brutally honest. We were in Vegas (again, just try to keep her away from the slots) for my cousin's wedding. In August. She made a comment on the heat and it being August. I said, "Don't worry, Grandma. If I get married, I promise not to do it in Vegas in August." Her reply, "Well you'd better get a move on, I'm not getting any younger." Ouch. I blew that part off and said, "What are you talking about? You have 20 more years before Willard Scott will even think of saying your name on the Today show."

Unfortunately, though, that might not happen. You see, we found out that Margaret is sick. Although she has not smoked in more than 30-some years, she has lung cancer. We're all remaining positive, though, and sending out good thoughts and prayers her way, because she's a strong lady and we all love her so much.

I've been afraid to call her. Afraid that as soon as I heard her voice, I would start crying, and I didn't want her to be upset. But today, I took a deep breath and pressed SEND on her number, so I could wish her a happy Mother's Day. And when she answered, and I heard her voice over the din of her TV, I just smiled and said, "Hi Grandma." And there was the familiar pause before she said my name. She'd just got home from Mass and brunch with her friends, and was waiting for Sharon and Joe to come over for dinner. She sounded just like Margaret, strong and sure, and busy with plans.

I told you, my Grandma has shit to do.

UPDATE: Today is March 7, 2011, and Margaret is 89. HAPPY BIRTHDAY GRANDMA!!!! Her treatments are going well, doing their job and keeping her cancer at bay. She's a little tired, and now a bit short of breath, which she is getting checked out today. I called her this morning to wish her a happy birthday. She sounded a bit scratchy, but said she was doing OK. If it means we get to celebrate 90 next year, I'll take OK every day.

The Sting and I

As a member of the press, I've had the opportunity to interview a lot of people, quite a few of them celebrities. I try to maintain my dignity. I am a professional, after all. When I recently interviewed Olivia Newton-John, I did not geek out and tell her I have Xanadu on DVD. They're just people. No need to gush.

I got an invitation to the cocktail hour of the ForEverglades gala benefiting the Everglades Foundation at The Breakers Hotel last Friday, where Sting was going to perform.

So there was a chance that I would be in the same room with Sting. Now, I've seen him three times in concert, so technically, I've already been in the same room with him. But he didn't know that!

I raced home after work to pretty myself up on the off chance that I might actually make eye contact with Sting. Of course it was pouring...my hair does not do well in the rain. Or the sun. Or the humidity. But I said, "pull yourself together! You're going to see Sting!!!" A handful of very painfully placed bobby pins later, I was ready! Beauty is pain, so I added my high-high heels, too. Balls to the wall, baby. This was Sting!



I arrived and got my press pass. Security was tight! The PR ladies told me to enjoy myself, but come back to the front at 7:20 for the celebrity photo ops. OK... I'll be back. I grabbed a glass of Champagne and entered the fray. I made it all the way through the crowded room full of movers and shakers, when a white haired man walked up to me. "Hello, I'm Charlie Crist." I said, "Nice to meet you," and introduced myself. I didn't hit me until I turned away that I hadn't called him "Governor." Ah well. He's very tan. And not very tall. My mind was elsewhere.

I walked back up to the front at 7:20, and no Sting. But look, there were John McEnroe and Jack Nicklaus having a chat.



Jack Nicklaus, also shorter than I expected. No sign of Mrs. McEnroe. Perhaps she was somewhere shooting at the walls of heartache, bang, bang. Either way, not Sting. And I think Mark Foley was stalking me, because every time I turned around, there he was.

Then, someone started talking at the other end of the room, and the crowd pressed forward. Oh, the Governor making a speech, because he has to leave... Still no Sting. I wandered back into the main room, and the bells started to go off, and the doors to the ballroom opened. My cue to leave.

I got back to the front and saw the PR director of the Breakers. "You just missed him," she said.
"Who?"
"Sting. He was just here. He just walked down the hall."
"Are you kidding me??" I slammed down my Champagne glass and whipped my purse open, took out my camera, and down the hall I went, as fast as my high-high heels could carry me and my dignity. I didn't sprint, but I was a girl on a mission.

And there he was. Meeting John McEnroe's kids. Then they started to walk off, and I said, "Sting, can I get a picture?"

"Of course," he said. "But you have to be in it with your pretty red dress."

(GUSH!!!) "OK."

I looked around for someone to hand my camera to. No takers. And then he said, "I'll take it." And POP!

"I hope it comes out," he said, jumping in the elevator.

Oh... I think it's OK.



Of course I didn't know it did then. I had to get to a table to get out my valet ticket. My hands were shaking so much, I snapped a picture of my purse. Way to not geek out, Michelle.

My neighbors are ALIVE!! I need a drink!

My neighbors across the hall put their Christmas stuff up on their porch. A decorated tree and a bunch of other crap. So much so, the man of the house (I am assuming) had to come out in the hall to smoke. Because, he said, there was too much Christmas stuff on the porch. Fine. Whatever. Happy Holidays.

Christmas came and went. And so did my neighbors. I never saw them. He was never out smoking in the hall, even though the Christmas stuff was still up on the porch. The shades where drawn, and there were no lights on at all. As it got later into January, I began to get concerned. Did they leave? Were they on vacation? Wouldn't you take your tree down if you went on vacation? Were they shut-ins? Were they really that lazy?

Or.....were they dead?? Still in the apartment, yet slipped from the mortal coil.

It has stressed me for days. I felt like Mrs. Kravitz! Last night, I was painting my toenails (Pat on the Black, thank you) when I heard voices in the hall. I almost tripped myself trying to get to the peephole to see if it was them. Nope. This morning, I almost put a Chinese restaurant menu in their door, just to see if it was gone when I got home from work. But someone started coming down the stairs.

I finally broke down and called the leasing office and asked if they still lived there, or where they on vacation, as I had not seen them in a month, and all that Christmas crap is still up. The manager said, funny you should say that, we are just drafting letters to tell people to get their Christmas stuff down. (Seriously people, it's January! Christmas was a month ago! How lazy are you???)

When I came home from work, I almost cried. All the blinds were open. The windows were open. Lights were on. And a very grumpy looking man was removing the Christmas stuff from the porch. It was as if in the letter to tell them to take their stuff the fuck down, they also said, by the way open up a window and turn on a light, everyone thinks you're dead!!!

I was so stressed and relieved, I had to cook. So I whipped up some Sausage, Mozzarella and Broccoli Rabe with Shells. Of course, Publix being Publix, they had no broccoli rabe, so I used regular broccoli. And an onion. Chopped.



OH, and the drink mentioned in the title... A nice Malbec. Not a great one, but it's OK. I like a red wine I can chew, and a white that bites back.



Oooo spicy Italian sausage. I had to take the casings off. Yeah, it's gross. Here is the "before."



I had to multitask, sauteing the onions while boiling the shells (but not cooking them all the way). Don't you love my new red pan!?!? Sooo pretty!! Merry Christmas to me!



I tossed the broccoli into the pasta for 15 seconds and then drained it quick and set it aside, then tossed the sausage in with the onions, along with some garlic and dried thyme. The recipe calls for three thyme sprigs that you end up taking out. Fuck that (sorry, Dickie), but I'm not spending a ton of money for fresh thyme just to use three sprigs. I say three good pinches of dried thyme and the flavor remains. That's how I roll.



Then comes a can of whole peeled tomatoes. Now, like when I make my Manhattan clam chowder, I used my kitchen sheers to cut the tomatoes into pieces, so you don't end up with a giant chunk of tomato. One tablespoon of flour gets stirred in to the sausage and onions for a few seconds, then pour in the tomatoes and cook until the sauce is thickened.



Then, and this was tricky, and involved a ladle so as not to make a bigger mess than I usually make, you pour the sausage mix into the pan with the shells and broccoli, mix it up and then pour all that into a 3-quart casserole pan. And then comes the best part of any meal—CHEESE!!!! Both grated Parmesan AND mozzarella.



Isn't it beautiful!?!?! It looks even better here:



Yep. Cheese is a beautiful thing, and goes with every meal. Except Chinese food. Which, like my sister, I just think is weird. I mean, cheese doesn't go with Chinese. Or Thai. Or Japanese. Thank God, it goes with everything else!!!


The GEAUX SAINTS! BEAT THOSE DOLTS Playlist
Norwegian Wood The Beatles (I want to cry, the remastered discs sound SO GOOD)
Come Back Down Toad the Wet Sprocket ("I've quit this a million times, can't quite stay away.")
Magic Olivia Newton-John (It took everything in me not to geek out and tell her I own Xanadu on DVD, and the soundtrack is on my iPod.)
Imaginary Friends Ron Sexsmith ("Do you comprehend now to imaginary friends you don't exist.")
Told You So Barenaked Ladies ("I had myself fooled into needing you. Did I fool you to?")
How to Be a Millionaire ABC ("I've seen the future, I can't afford it!")
A Man Alanis Morissette
There Must Be an Angel Eurythmics ("No one on Earth could feel like this. I'm thrown and overblown with bliss.")
Julia Chocolate Genius (eh)
Beat the Time Edie Brickell & New Bohemians
Movin' Out Billy Joel ("Savin' all his money for a Cadillac-ac-ac-ac-ac")
Sugar Tonic "Come on baby get your shoes on. You're lookin' like you need a rescue.")
Purple Rain Prince & the Revolution (the BEST Prince song EVER!!!)
Suspended in Time Olivia Newton-John (again, from Xanadu. Love it!!)
Because The Beatles
Stay a Little Longer Willie Nelson ("Pull off your coat and throw it in the corner, don't see why you don't stay a little longer.")
Rainy Days and Mondays The Carpenters ("Funny but it seems I always wind up here with you.")
You May Be Right Billy Joel
Alcohol Barenaked Ladies ("For while I cannot love myself, I'll use something else.")
She's Too Much Duran Duran (I wish someone wrote this for me. Love this song!)
Girl The Beatles
Zoom In Duran Duran (I LOVE YOU JOHN!!!)
11:59 Blondie
The Power of Goodbye Madonna ("You were my lesson I had to learn.")
Fumbling Toward Ecstasy Sarah McLaclan
Possession Sarah McLaclan ("And I will be the one to hold you down, kiss you so hard, I'll take your breath away.")
Shattered O.A.R. ("How many times can I break till I shatter?")
Set Adrift on Memory Bliss PM Dawn ("The camera pans, a cocktail glass...")
Don't Let it go to your Head Fefe Dobson ("So what if I want to kiss from your toes up to your lips....")

Flash photography is strictly prohibited

Sorry, I was too busy handling raw chicken to take them. It happens.

Martha is still an evil genius, even though I haven't made one of her recipes in a bit. Tonight I decided to make Chicken with Prosciutto and Sage, because as we learned last time, everything is better with bacon. And prosciutto is just fancy Italian bacon. So again, what is not to love?!

So I got my chicken cutlets (real ones, not those weird things some ladies put in their bras), four of them to be specific. You put one (really? Just one?) sage leaf on each cutlet, and then wrap each one in a slice of delicious prosciutto. The recipe says to flatten with the palm of your hand, to help the prosciutto to adhere to the chicken. Then dredge each cutlet in flour mixed with salt and pepper, shaking off the excess.

Heat up 2 tablespoons of olive oil and cook two cutlets at a time, 3 minutes on each side. I took the cooked ones out, put them on a plate and put that in the microwave to keep them warm. I didn't turn the microwave on. I just trapped the heat around them. Whatever. Add a couple more tablespoons of olive oil to the pan and put the other two cutlets in. I also poured some olive oil in another pan (I really need new frying/saute pans, Santa!) with a generous spoonful of minced garlic.

When the garlic started smelling good, I threw in what seemed like half a bag of spinach, because you always need a green vegetable, and it really cooks down.

The chicken was done, so I took it out and into the pan I put in 3/4 cup of dry white wine and 1/4 cup of chicken broth to cook down. Be sure to stir up the stuff on the bottom of the pan. That is extra goodness. After that reduced, I took it off the heat, added a tablespoon of cold butter and about 4 minced sage leaves, and stirred until the butter melted.

Plate a piece of chicken and drizzle that sauce all over it. And the garlic spinach was just the right touch! YUM!

Here are some random thoughts to make up for not having photos:
1. I think Martha sold her soul to the devil at some point.
2. I am a really good, while very messy, cook. However, my messes are just splatters. I always practice healthy and safe food handling.
3. They've rearranged our Publix. I was just getting my shopping groove on, and now it's like I first moved here, and this Publix is all over the map.
4. I took my four cloth shopping bags to the store. And the ass hat that bagged my stuff crammed everything I bought into two of them. Because apparently he thought I had a Sherpa who was going to carry a cart's worth of stuff in two bulging bags, while I carried my box of soda.
5. What the hell is this "singing" show on NBC? Really Nick Lachey? Really?
6. I need to start buying the bigger jar of minced garlic.
7. I am a really good cook.
8. I did not mean to steal from Publix. Again.

The five-finger discount playlist:
38 Line Poem The Wonder Stuff
Are You Gonna Go My Way Lenny Kravitz (I think I have this song on my iPod 3 different times. It makes me toss my hair around.)
Dull Life Yeah, Yeah, Yeahs (We've seen the nightmare of the lies that you speak.)
Revolution Granddaddy (This makes me want to start a revolution to break up this group, because this Beatles cover is LAME.)
The Safety Dance Men Without Hats (One of the best one-hit wonders EVER! How do you not love this song?)
Animal I Have Become Three Days Grace
Come Home James
Perfect Girl Sarah McLachlan (Am I faithful, am I strong, am I good enough to belong)
False Start The Wonder Stuff
Hungry Like the Wolf Duran Duran (I LOVE YOU JOHN!!)
End The Cure
In My Life Ben Lee (Another sucky Beatles cover, and he should be arrested, because it's a crime to butcher such a beautiful song.)
The Last Resort The Eagles (You call some place "paradise," kiss it good-bye)
The New Sad Barenaked Ladies
Goodbye Yellow Brick Road Elton John (It'll take you a couple of vodka and tonics to set you on your feet again)
Dirty Laundry Don Henley (People love it when you lose, they love dirty laundry.... just ask Tiger.)
Beautiful Barenaked Ladies
Mother's Little Helper The Rolling Stones
Champagne Supernova Oasis (How many special people change)

You had me at BACON!

Wow, I have been slacking off!! Sorry everyone. I have no excuse.

First off, if you have cats and live near a Publix, Meow Mix (the 3-pound size) is buy one, get one free. Plus, they had the bags that have 20-percent more food! I might not have to buy dry food for Daphne for a year! Okay, maybe just a few months, but still, good sale. As you can see, Daphne was thrilled.



Moving on!

I was talking to my friend Paige, who is one of my gurus of all things food, and she asked if she had ever sent me the recipe for something called Chicken Bonne Femme. It's a chicken dish served at a restaurant called Galatoire's in New Orleans. I said, "no.. tell me about it."
"Well," she said, "it has bacon."
"Sounds good," I said quickly. Because, as we all know, anything with bacon has to be awesome.

I hit the store with my list, and came home ready to create the rumored fabulousness of Chicken Bonne Femme. Which really means Good Girl Chicken. Stop snickering. Quite a bit of prep, chopping veggies thinly. First are two onions. I like to use Spanish onions, but apparently they are illegal here, because they are hardly every available at the Publix. White onions it is.



Then two large potatoes. You have to peel them first. That's my fancy KitchenAide peeler. It pivots. Thanks Jenny!!!



And now for the best part!!!! Plus, it was on sale!!! It was a sign!



Hey, wait. That isn't bacon! Anyway, the ABC Liquor Store man, after offering up a sample of a lovely French sparkling wine, recommended this Chardonnay. And it was on sale. Plus I had earned a coupon. I have a frequent drinker card there. I know, you're all shocked. The verdict: Quite tasty. Sharp, but with a smooth caramel finish. Props to the ABC Liquor Store man.

Okay, now HERE is the important part. Also on sale! Isn't it beautiful!?!?



The recipe calls for half a pound of bacon. If you listen closely, I think Paula Deen just squealed. I figured the easiest way to measure a half pound was not to measure at all.



And now I have breakfast for tomorrow! And block of sharp red KitchenAide knives. They look nice and, God forbid, in case of a break-in, I don't need a permit to use them.

(As you can see from all of blogs and pictures, I like red things in my kitchen. My dream used to be a bright red KitchenAide mixer. It would look so pretty on my counter. But, unfortunately that is probably all it would do. I am not much of a baker. I would love some really fabulous pots and pans though, Santa. Maybe an apron or two...)

Now for the chicken part of Good Girl Chicken (stop snickering!). A whole fryer, chopped into 8 pieces. Just season with salt and pepper and pop it in at 400 for 30 minutes. Turn it after 15 minutes. (That means flip it over, not rotate it clockwise.)



Back to BACON! I can bring it home, and fry it up in a pan.



After I took the bacon out, I slid in a couple tablespoons of butter (SQUEAL goes Paula Deen) and the onions and stirred them around until the onions were soft.

Speaking of frying, I had to deep fry the potatoes. Again, there goes Paula Deen squealing. I've never deep fried anything. Honestly. So I was a bit nervous. I used vegetable oil in my skillet, and fried them in a couple batches. Now, I've complained a lot about how much I hate cooking on an electric stove. Well, if I had been cooking with gas tonight... this would have probably caused a huge grease fire. WOW. That oil will splatter and splash when you drop those potatoes in. Thankfully, I had my wok top to cover it up!



Fry them until they are golden brown(ish) and then take them out. I put them in another glass pan lined with some paper towels. Meanwhile, mix the bacon in with the onions and a tablespoon of minced garlic. I used the minced garlic in a jar. It's easy.



Then, you mix the onion mix with the potatoes, and pour it over chicken. Pop the chicken back in for about 10 more minutes, and POW!!! Good Girl Chicken (stop snickering!).



I served it up with some steamed haricot verts. Yum!!! It was really tasty. How could it not be? It's got bacon!!! But the chicken itself was really juicy and flavorful, just by seasoning with salt and pepper and baking it!



And then I had to clean up, which involved bleach spray, a sponge, a mop and a load of laundry. Totally worth it.

Although, it should be called Bad Girl Chicken!! I will definitely be hitting the treadmill tomorrow. Again, totally worth it!

The "Thank you Bacon, Sincerely Water Chestnut III" Playlist (It's long. There was cleaning involved)

When Love Came to Town U2 and BB King (I LOVE YOU BONO!!!!!)
Let's Go Crazy Prince & the Revolution (And yes Dickie, Prince is a musical genius!)
The End of the Innocence Don Henley ("Lawyers dwell on small details since daddy had to fly.")
Love Bites Def Leppard ("Do you tell lies, and say that it's forever")
Computer Blue Prince & the Revolution (Another from Purple Rain, for which he won the Oscar for Best Original Song Score. Musical genius!!!!)
Dirty Great Monster Duran Duran
New Age Girl Dead Eye Dick ("Don't eat meat, but she sure like the bone")
Tiny Daggers INXS (Gone to soon!!!!)
Jerk Out Morris Day and the TIME!!! (The BEST surprise opening act EVER, right Paige???)
Don't Ask Me Why The Eurythmics ("I don't love you anymore. I don't think I ever did.")
Mr. Jones Counting Crows ("Everybody wants to pass as cats.")
Your Love The Outfield ("Josie's on a vacation far away...")
Your English is Good Tokyo Police Club (THANKS TIMMER!!!)
Here Today Paul McCartney (A beautiful song, written in memory of John)
Hammering In My Head Garbage ("I knew you were mine for the taking when I walked in the room.")
Stuck on You Elvis ("Look at Elvis, he sold his soul and you crowned him king.")
Humor of the Situation Barenaked Ladies
Special Garbage
Read my Mind The Killers
Big Shot Billy Joel ("You had to prove it to the crowd.")
Congratulations Blue October ("I came to see the light in my best friend..")
Jump Around House of Pain ("Pack it up, pack it in, let me begin...")
Hold on my Heart Genesis (Interesting segue, but love this song.)
Can't Help Falling in Love With You Elvis (only fools rush in....)
Sign Your Name Terrence Trent D'Arby (And no, jackass, your album WAS NOT better than Sgt. Pepper.)
My Life has been Saved Queen (Sadly, it wasn't. But he'll live forever through his awesome music. I know that sounds lame, but it's true. Freddie will always be fabulous!)
Sexy M.F Prince ("Come here baby.. yeah... you sexy mother fucker.")
I Could Never Take the Place of Your Man as sung by Jordan Knight, the dreamiest of all the New Kids on the Block
Wake Up Alanis Morissette ("There's no fundamental excuse for the granted I'm taken for.")
The Headmaster Ritual The Smiths (This song reminds a very good friend of mine of the powers that be at his job.)
Home Again Vonda Shepard (Maybe for my birthday!!!!)
Do You Really Want to Hurt Me? Culture Club
Captain Jack Billy Joel ("Just a little push, and you'll be smiling.")

Doing it for the "girls"

As you probably know from the explosion of pink everywhere, October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Coincidentally, it also happens to be time for my 6-month mammogram/ultrasound combo that started a year ago, when my new doctor in Florida "made" me go get a baseline mammogram. I was nervous, but figured I'd just get it over with, and that would be the end of it for a few years.

They called me the next day to come back in to double check the left side and do an ultrasound. Naturally, I freaked out. It turned out to be nothing. Well, dense tissue. But they wanted me to come back in six months. So I went back in April for a replay. Again, I got the all clear, but come back in six months.

And that meant today was the day. So I dragged my stuffy sinuses and sore throat over to the Breast Center. Yippie!!!

OK, as a preface, two days ago, the registration office called to pre-fill out my paperwork. Cool. But then when I got the call to remind me of the appointment, I was told to go to admitting. To fill out my paperwork. Um, I did that. Over the phone...
You need to sign it all.
Oh. OK.
Admitting. The ladies there are charming. Yes. I am being sarcastic.

Up at the Breast Center at last, I am given...paperwork to fill out. Sigh. As I am filling it out, the receptionist brings me a printed out sheet of things I just need to double check to make sure they are right. Huh... the printout from when I filled the paperwork out over the phone. And the information that is on it is the exact information I was just filling out...I guess they think we need "busy" work to keep our minds off of what's going to happen.

So after I am given my ever-so-attractive and comfortable robe to wear (it opens in the front), I am waiting. And waiting. Oh, a magazine. House Beautiful. From 2004. I start opening drawers and cabinets. I'm a curious person. Oh, a fake boob attached to a white piece of plastic... Ooops... not attached, as said boob flops under the chair...

My turn! YAY! The tech is... brusk. And I can't really understand what she is saying. Because she mumbles. And has cold hands. I won't go into detail, but it's weird to see your boobs flattened and twisted in such a fashion.

Off to the waiting room. It's cold. So cold they keep offering blankets. Oh good, more magazines. Some early winter 2008 issues of Town and Country, More from March and, oh sweet, a Domino. From 2006. Oh good, I can finish reading that article I was reading in it six months ago. You think I'm kidding. And I'm waiting. And waiting. And it's cold.

Pat the ultrasound tech comes to get me. I think her name was Pat. Maybe it was Joyce. But she looked like Pat the UPS delivery lady from Will & Grace. She smokes. Not while she was doing my ultrasound, but every other time. I could smell it through my Tylenol Sinus med haze. She tells a joke about her brother in town, and finds nothing of note. But sends me back to the waiting room.

Mumbles pokes her head in and says they need another mammogram view. Huh? OK... this one was even less pleasant. Back to the waiting room. Waiting... Mumbles is back. Now they want two "twist" views. It is what is sounds like. And the least "pleasant" of all of them. At one point, she asked me to tilt my chin up. I told her if I tilted it up anymore, my boob would rip off.

She has no idea what they are looking for. She keeps pointing at a white shadow, I would call it, saying it must be what they are looking at. Well, what the fuck do they think it might be lady, because you're all freaking me out!?!?!? (I said in my head.)

Back to the waiting room. I am offered a blanket. Again. Pat's back. The doctor wants to see another ultrasound. There really is no modesty in any of this, if you can't tell that already, but having two people stand over me running an ultrasound wand across my chest, pointing at the screen saying "there... no... there, wait.. no...it's right there, but no... it's nothing, it just blends in...," almost made me lose my shit. DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU ARE LOOKING FOR??!?! I wanted to scream!!!

And then, "OK, nothing there. You're good to go."

"Well it wasn't for a lack of looking," I said. So... nothing.. Nope. Nothing. Here's your free tote bag for playing our game!

Anti-climatic, I know. But I'm in the clear for at least another six months.

But, it's important to check yourself every month! See your doctor!! Save the tatas!!!!