Pon De Replay ~ Rihanna

Rocking these diamonds

I'm rocking this chain

Make sure you get a picture

I'm rocking my fame

To be what you is

You gotta be what you are

The only thing I'm missing

Is a black guitar

I'm a rockstar

Hey baby

I'm a rockstar

Hey baby

Big city
Bright lights

Sleep all day

long nights

Hey baby

I'm a rockstar

Hey baby

I'm a rockstar

~ Rihanna

I always have this idea in my head that there are A LOT of Rihanna haters out there. But possibly it is just Rita and Kaylan. But you know, that's a lot of people in my life.

I, on the other hand, am a Rihanna LOVER! I think she is so fun. If I had to pick a Madonna successor, it would be Rihanna. Pop perfection. And she just keeps getting better. Seriously! Who thought the girl who sang Pon De Replay would be on the radio with songs like Rude Boy, Umbrella, and Hard? Well, Jay-Z. That's who.

And she just puts me in a good mood. I can not be angry or sad or mad when I am listening to Rihanna. I can only be fun and happy.

Here are my top ten Rihanna songs;

1. Rude Boy. Regardless of weather this song makes me want to drive with all of my windows down and the radio blaring. Or to be dancing with friends or a sexy guy. This song just has a vibe. A majorly cool, chill, fun vibe.

2. Kisses Don't Lie. Okay as you learn more about me, you will become increasingly aware that I dig a chill island/tropical/reggae vibe. This song has it.

3. Only Girl (In the World). It is possible that this song is only listed this high in my top ten because it is new and I can not get ENOUGH of it. But maybe someday in the very near future I will. I doubt it though.

4. Rockstar 101. Bottom line: She is a bad, bad chick. This song is so girl power awesome. Don't you just want to beat up the guy who made you feel bad about yourself WHILE wearing sexy killer 6 inch heels when this song plays? No? Just me? I am okay with that.

5. Cold Case Love. One of the few slow songs of hers that I really, really, really like. First of all, it really shows off her vocal talents. Second, no one I know doesn't like this song. Even Rihanna haters like this song. True story. UPDATE: I was dancing to Rihanna today around my house and I would like to put Stupid In Love as a tie to Cold Case Love. (updated: 11/1/2010)

6. Take a Bow. I did not care for this song until I really listened to the lyrics. Sample: "And the award for/The best liar goes to you/For making me believe (that you)/That you could be faithful to me/Let's hear your speech, Oh/How about a round of applause/A standing ovation." I think I know that guy. Ha. Ha.

7. Don't Stop the Music. Michael Jackson sample? Naturally it is going to be a fun, happy, dance beat.

8. SOS. This is the song that made me really start liking her. They blared it in my aerobics class and it keeps you moving.

9. Disturbia. Creepy video and live performances aside, I like this song.

10. Umbrella. Her BIG hit. Yes it got overplayed but it has almost been off the charts long enough for me to start feeling happy nostalgia when I hear it.

Confessions ~ Usher (Volume 4)

1. I ate a piece of cake for lunch. Don't tell, okay? Also it made me completely ill. It probably would not have if I hadn't ate cake for breakfast too. And taken 3 excedrin in between. Huh. I am suddenly seeing why MAYBE people nag me about my eating habits.
2. I love the show "Meet the Browns" on TBS. I love it in all its cheesy wholesomeness. It was on while I was home for lunch and I did not want to leave before it was over. But I had to leave. So sad.

Awesome Purple Cake

So last night was my first in what I hope will be a series of dinners with the goal of widening out and getting to know more people a lot better.
Unfortunately, two of my invitees  were unable to attend but let me just say that my cooking skills were DEFINITELY in attendance. I was so proud of myself.

Here is the menu:
Pot Roast
Carrots
Baked Potatoes
Garlic Bread
Salad (provided by guest)
and then there was dessert.

But first dinner. First of all, I was very selective when I bought my pot roast so it was a good one.
I first seasoned it with GrillMates Montreal Steak Seasoning, some Mrs. Dash Original, Salt, and Pepper. Then I quickly seared both sides in a hot pan with a small amount of olive oil. Then I put it in the crock pot on low with a cup of beef broth. I did that at about 9 AM and it stayed on low all day until about 4:30 PM. Perfection! Except that at some point (10:30 ish?) I decided that it was going to be a very colorless meal. And so I threw baby carrots in the crock pot. By the time I served dinner the carrots were totally mushy but they were a huge hit flavor wise. If I had it to do over again I would have put them in later. Like at 2ish. Although schedule wise that wasn't possible.

So garlic bread and baked potatoes were nothing new or exciting.The garlic bread was just store bought throw in the oven kind of thing.

A guest brought a salad that consisted of Spinach leaves, feta cheese, and dried cranberries with a olive oil and vinegar dressing. I ate two servings. Yes. I understand if you need to reread that sentence out of confusion. I, Meghaun, ate TWO servings of salad. By choice.

But now about dessert.

Does this picture indicate that it is a lovely shade of light purple? I hope so. So really, it was actually nothing fancy. It was less Barefoot Contessa and more Semi-homemade with Sandra Lee. But still. Yellow cake mix made to directions in two 8 inch round cake pans. Filling in between the two layers was blueberries, strawberries and one small container of cool whip. I stirred and mixed until the filling took on a pretty light pink color from the strawberries. The icing was also store bought whipped frosting BUT it was sickeningly sweet so I cut the sweetness by adding a small container of cool whip. I then added 3 drops of red food dye and two drops of blue to create the light purple shade and garnished with more berries. 

Tasty! Tasty!

So my first dinner was a SMASH success. And now I am more excited to do it again.

Library Loving ~ Love in the Time of Cholera

My first Gabriel Garcia Marquez book was "One Hundred Years of Solitude." It was almost my last. That book confounds me. There are a lot of characters with similiar names. It is confusing. I know that makes me sound stupid, but it is the unvarnished truth. The book was confusing.

My sister had a copy of Gabo's short story, "Chronicle of a Death Foretold." I read that because I wanted to give him another chance and it was short. Yay! for short stories. I liked it. It was odd and seemingly pointless. I just did research that tells me it was based on a true story. But it felt pointless when I read it. And what am I, if not the Queen of Pointless Stories? Nothing. That's what.

So I decided to take a leap and read Love in the Time of Cholera. I LOVE THIS BOOK. First of all, I am a big fan of any book that has a strong relatable female character. A real woman. Who makes real choices. Romance novelists-take note! I am NOT a high powered executive who has random chance encounters with cowboys named Lance. Thank you.

Gabo describes things in a way that puts me there with the characters. The sights, the smells, the sounds. And as I read Love in the Time of Cholera and his description of Fermina Daza (main female character) I remember thinking to myself: He likes this woman he has created. She is imperfect, but he has created her with love. It is unusual to read a book written by a MAN with a woman as the lead character and you can feel his care, his tenderness towards her even in her flaws. (This makes a lot of sense when you research and discover that the book is loosely based on his parents.) It just felt good to read a book with a female character that I like and admire as much as I do Jane Eyre and to know it was written by a man.

Diamond in the Rough ~ Anthony Hamilton

Do you listen to Anthony Hamilton?  You should. You really, really should.

I have this thing with artists who sing/write songs that feel honest. That feel authentic. That seem to address the human condition and all of our complicated emotions. Songs that I don't just like or enjoy but experience. I feel Anthony Hamilton.

My Top Ten Anthony Hamilton Songs list:

1. Love Is So Complicated from the Soullife Album

I get in this zone where I feel like I am through with love. This zone where Taylor Swift and her perfectly boxed package of the arc of love and happiness makes me insane. Completely, you-are-a-bubble-headed-fairy-tale-spinning-idiot insane.  And then I meet somebody that it just feels so good to be with and I think you know....maybe, just maybe I could be in love again. And this song perfectly captures that "up" feeling without being sugary and fake. Cause even when it is good it is still complicated. (important aside: I really, really like Taylor Swift but seriously sometimes she is just too much)

2. Georgie Parker, also from Soullife. 
The message I would like every child who ever struggles with a negative childhood or negative thoughts about themselves to receive.

3. The Truth, from Ain't Nobody Worryin' album.
I will never, ever, ever, again be in a romantic relationship where the lyrics to this song don't apply. It's the truth. That simple.

4. Diamond in the Rough from The Point of It All album.
Who doesn't want to feel this way? We are all so human and so imperfect.  So for someone to see us for our value? Our virtue? That's deep. And then says: "You're my diamond in the rough girl.  Let's shine in love together." Honest and romantic? Swoon.

5. The Day We Met from The Point of It All album.
 Is it unrealistic to want a man to remember the day he met me? And then to feel this way about it: Right when I met you, the day that I met you, you turned my world around. We fell in love. Right there from the start, you came and stole my heart, you turned my world around. We fell in love. 

6. Everybody from the Ain't Nobody Worryin' album.
This is a feel good, block party kind of song. With the perfect amount of reggae. So chill.

7. Charlene from Comin' From Where I'm From album.
I have too many feelings about this song. I can't even go there. 

8. Ball and Chain from the Soullife Album.
I feel like my friend Kris should be the one commenting on this song. This is her song. But for me this song really shows off his vocals and his distinctive rich voice.

9. Pass Me Over from Ain't Nobody Worryin' Album.
Yeah okay this song is definitely Anthony in gospel mode. But dang! The man can wail.

10. Never Love Again from Ain't Nobody Worryin' Album.
I listen to this song and I wonder if that's really what love and heartbreak are like for a man. How often do they completely shut the door?

Confessions ~ Usher (Volume 3)

1. My employers have placed two little pumpkins outside of their house in honor of the season and they are adorable and everytime I walk past them I get this urge to hug them. I just really want to hug those pumpkins! Thank goodness for impulse control,  right? How weird would it be if they caught me?

2. My stomach keeps growling uncontrollably. Super embarrassing. Even when no one is around to hear it.

3. I had promised myself Sunday night that I would change an aspect of a relationship that I have with someone and today I fell back into an old habit. MAJORLY KICKING SELF!!

4. Worked with a few different people in early morning ministry this morning. It was SO enjoyable! And it made me want to work with them forever and always. I love that feeling. I love even more that pretty much EVERY time I work with someone new in early morning, I feel that way about them.

5. Yesterday I checked my mail for the first time in 4 days. The mail pretty much all sucked and I took it in stride. (SHOCKING - Here is why).

The Ring Bearer

My grandma gave me a piece of her jewelry.

It is a pinky ring. First of all, how gangsta is it that my Grandma's signature jewelry piece is a pinky ring? Second of all, it is a bunch of grapes but instead of being set with amethyst my grandma had it custom made with garnets (her birth stone and mine). So they are red grapes.

Wearing this ring keeps my grandma in the forefront of my mind a lot. I love my grandma. I wish I could be like my grandma.  My grandma is funny and generous and smart. Sharp. My grandma is sharp. But that's my perception of her as my grandma. When I wear this ring, I wonder about the person.

She by all accounts did not have an easy life.  She was a single mom with four kids to raise. She had lost both of her brothers to death. Her childhood was apparently pretty rough. Sometimes I forget all of this and get curious about what she was like as a kid, teenager, woman, mother. I tried asking once about her childhood. About what it was like growing up with a twin brother. I didn't get very far. Instead I quickly got the hint to move on to happier, easier topics.

My grandmother never remarried. She isn't an unattractive woman.   And surely she doesn't reserve all of her charm for her grandchildren.  I have often wondered why. Was her marriage to my grandfather that scarring? That painful? Could she never trust a man? Did she just never meet anybody who interested her? Did she prefer being alone? Was there some Catholic belief that held her back? Surely she was free? He remarried-several times over. And had more children.

And what of her beliefs? And at one point, I think she stopped practicing Catholicism. Only to take it back up later in life.

And what did she do when everything seemed dark and bleak and horrible? She must have had those days. She had a failing marriage and four girls to raise.  How did she make it?

She made it somehow. For here she is today. Alive. Has good enough relationships with her girls to live with them in her later years and ill health. Is adored by all her grandchildren.

I wear this ring and I ponder all of these things. And I take comfort that things may fall apart - a lot. But your life isn't forever broken. And I hope that I am strong enough to prove that to people too.

Because This Is My Life ~ Rant. Rave.

Public Announcement: I am miserable right now.  I have a hard time admitting that because it makes me feel like a complete failure. It is what it is people.

Here's the problem: I have always, always, always expected life to be one big happy surprise. Like how you could count on candy after school on Tuesdays or Steak N Shake on Fridays or presents in December for your parents' anniversary.  Or surprise day trips to St. Louis or Chicago. Fall Drives.  Grandma's House. Slumber parties. Playing with our cousins on the farm. Awesome vacations every summer. New Puppy. New Kitten. Getting read a book every night before bed. My point is on ANY given day, you could wake up and greet a day that held something awesome or fun or generous or loving or.....just good. Somedays it was insignificant: Home Made Waffles! Somedays it was significant: A trip to Grant's Farm! But I don't think I am deluding myself when I say it was wonderful. My childhood was wonderful.

And then I grew up.

Somewhere along the line I should have stopped expecting kittens and waffles. I should have learned  that things fall apart. To not expect happiness, to enjoy it in its brevity when it appears, and to not look for it again. To just let it happen and let it go. And by happiness, I don't mean life long inner peace and contentment because I know and understand the big picture of life. My spirituality takes care of that. It's the day to day that kills me. 

Here is a perfect example: The mail. Almost everyday, I go to my mailbox. The closer I get to it, my excitement mounts. What will be in my PO Box today? A card? A letter? Money? Pictures? Presents? It could be anything! Yay! Sunshine! Birds chirping! Rainbows! Ponies! And I put the key into my PO Box and my breath catches as I turn the key to reveal....................a postcard from Bank of America that says (and I paraphrase): "You IDIOT! Why you always think you have money in your account when you DO NOT is beyond us. And now we will charge you a fee. You suck at life. Love, Bank of America." AND a statement from my dentist that says: Dear Meghaun, last month you owed us your firstborn but since you have made your monthly payment we now only require your arm and leg. Sincerely,  Dr. Dentist. PS Don't forget that you still need at least 4 more root canals." Or maybe I get a catalog from Pottery Barn WITH A TURKEY ON THE COVER! All that is missing is a note that says: "Dear Meghaun, we wish you were dead SO much that we thought we would try to kill you by sending you the thing you fear most through the mail. Yours Truly, the UNIVERSE." 

Logic, common sense, and probability have already told you what I am about to: the mail seldom lives up to my expectations. Logic, common sense, and probability should also therefore dictate that I adjust my thinking and stop expecting such greatness from the mail.  This would end the almost daily hate spirals I find myself swirling in. LOGIC HAS NO PLACE HERE.  

Another example: People I am close to emotionally or maybe just people in general. I am always expecting people to surprise me with something wonderful. "Surprise: I came home just to see you because I love you and miss you!!" "Surprise, I think you are awesome and I just wanted to tell you so." "Surprise! I couldn't help but notice you are becoming a lunatic recluse and so I thought I would stop by just to say hi!" "Surprise! I heard you have a blog where you talk to yourself  and I thought I would bring you this basket of cookies, prozac, and vicodin." "Surprise! I know that you have zero self esteem and are beyond insecure and I just wanted to tell you-you are worth it. You have value. And I see it even when no one else does." "Surprise, we don't care if you surf the internet and text all day! We want to give you a $25 dollar an hour raise." "Surprise! I want you to marry me and have my adorable babies and we will get through this completely crappy world together and work really hard to make sure it doesn't all fall apart." 

Those are just a few examples. Off the top of my head.

And I used to be able to see the humor in it more. The "Murphy's Law" of it all. I could find the funny. Maybe it was dark funny, but funny. And I would laugh and let everyone laugh with me.  And I am finding that to be less and less so. I may find the funny for others. To let them laugh. To allow them to be comfortable. But myself, I don't find it funny.  I am no longer amused.  Here is an example: Almost two years ago, when I first moved out here, I somehow got shingles. When I am stressed out and at the end of my rope, I always manage to contract some bizarre illness that generally strikes people twice my age. And shingles was the most hilarious example of that ever.  I was in miserable pain, but I definitely saw the humor in the whole situation. Fast forward to almost two months ago: Vertigo. Same kind of situation. Lots of stress. Bizarre health ailment that 10 different people will immediately tell you someone they know got-and that person was well over 60! But this time, it just wasn't funny to me.  I told it funny for other people, but on the inside I found no humor in it. At all. 

(Update 11/1/2010: I recently retold that story and I actually did find it quite funny. I wrote this on a bad day. Hey! We all have them.)

 It scared the living daylights out of me. I truly thought I was dying. I didn't know what was wrong with me. And while I like the person I had to rely on (my roommate), what I was thinking was: This is not who I want to be there for me if something is truly wrong. This is not who I want sitting next to my hospital bed. And the people I want most are far away.  Or are my best friend, whom I protect so vigilantly, I couldn't tell her because I was worried the stress would be too much for her. 

When you are a person who expects everyday to bring some glorious surprise, a just average day with no glorious surprise is bad enough. But when the day actually brings something undesirable or distressing or just plain bad? Those are the days where I get in bed and hide under the covers and start to contemplate how I can keep from ever, ever coming out. 

Oh but wait! Maybe tomorrow I will get some really great mail! Kittens! Money! Love Letters! 

Thus it begins. All over again. And at the least, maybe tomorrow I will open my mailbox, see that it contains a very, very depressing missive from US Department of Education  in regards to my student loans, and I will laugh. Because this is my life. 

Aprons Are Awesome!

Lately I have been coming across aprons that are so fashionable and cute and flattering. As someone who loves to cook they totally make me drool.



http://www.etsy.com/listing/26686782/pods-pretty-ditty-apron


http://www.neatoshop.com/product/Little-Black-Dress-Apron

http://www.neatoshop.com/product/Plaid-Skirt-Apron

Glamour Magazine's By 30 List

This is from Glamour Magazine. I will now do a line by line review. My comments are in italics.

By 30, you should have:


One old boyfriend you can imagine going back to and one who reminds you of how far you’ve come.
I have an ex husband and an ex boyfriend. It's not like I have a lot to choose from here.

A decent piece of furniture not previously owned by anyone else in your family.
Does it count if you don't have a place to put it and keep it in pieces in your storage room?

Something perfect to wear if the employer or man of your dreams wants to see you in an hour.
Done and done. Several times over.

A purse, a suitcase and an umbrella you’re not ashamed to be seen carrying.
More than covered. Although I felt like I saw my favorite umbrella in pictures in New York. With Rita.

A youth you’re content to move beyond.
I DON'T WANNA GROW UP!! Sincerely, I am not overly fond of aging, but I don't want to go backwards either.

A past juicy enough that you’re looking forward to retelling it in your old age.
Juicy past is just not my style.

The realization that you are actually going to have an old age—and some money set aside to help fund it.
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NO. Nein. Nyet. N to the O.

An e-mail address, a voice mailbox and a bank account—all of which nobody has access to but you.
Yup.

A résumé that is not even the slightest bit padded.
I am pretty dang proud of my resume.

One friend who always makes you laugh and one who lets you cry.
In spades.

A set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill and a black lace bra.
Oh crap. I am a failure!  I have a couple of screwdrivers and a black bra (lace free).

Something ridiculously expensive that you bought for yourself, just because you deserve it.
I have bought ridiculously expensive things (Denzel) but I have never thought to myself that I am buying something for myself because "I deserve it." Kinda weird to me. I dunno.

The belief that you deserve it.
Again, kinda weird. I just don't feel like I have to "deserve" things I buy for myself. Why wouldn't I "deserve" it. Did I call myself a name or not share my toys with myself or what? Did I put myself on time out because I didn't clean my room?

A skin-care regimen, an exercise routine and a plan for dealing with those few other facets of life that don’t get better after 30.
Failure! Failure! Failure!

A solid start on a satisfying career, a satisfying relationship and all those other facets of life that do get better.
Failure! Failure! Failure!

By 30, you should know:

How to fall in love without losing yourself.
ummmmmmm...............

How you feel about having kids.
ummmmmmm...............


How to quit a job, break up with a man and confront a friend without ruining the friendship.
Quit a job? Check. The rest is a little sketchy.


When to try harder and when to walk away.
Not sure about this one.

How to kiss in a way that communicates perfectly what you would and wouldn’t like to happen next.
Yup.

The names of: the secretary of state, your great-grandmother and the best tailor in town.
Shouldn't this say great-grandmotherS? Don't we all have like ummmm 4? And no to like, all of that.

How to live alone, even if you don’t like to.
I worship and adore living alone. Alone, alone, ALONE. It is awesome.

How to take control of your own birthday.
If you don't celebrate it, this ceases to become a concern.

That you can’t change the length of your calves, the width of your hips or the nature of your parents.
Don't care. Don't care. Don't want to. Huh. Yeah. I mean all of that. That feels pretty good.

That your childhood may not have been perfect, but it’s over.
Didn't they say this already?  And what kind of stories would I have to tell if it had been perfect?

What you would and wouldn’t do for money or love.
This statement makes me feel stabby. It just annoys me. Maybe it's too cliche or something?

That nobody gets away with smoking, drinking, doing drugs or not flossing for very long.
Also annoying. Even more annoying that I have to admit that the whole not flossing thing really has burned me...badly. But I really want to mutter like a sullen jerk: Really? I guess I shouldn't have JUST snorted all that coke then.

Who you can trust, who you can’t and why you shouldn’t take it personally.
You know what you should ACTUALLY know? That life is one big glob of grey goop. That the person you can count on for a laugh is maybe not the person that you can count on for $20 when you are desperate and that the person loaning you the $20 might not keep that secret you asked them to keep and the person who WILL keep the secret will not ever say the right thing at the right time. Peoples is peoples. And what you should know is that everybody makes mistakes, everybody has strengths and weaknesses and no one can be all things to all people or even just all things to you.

Not to apologize for something that isn’t your fault.
Yes, but I also know to consider what will an apology cost me and what could it gain? If it costs me little and gains peace, why the heck not apologize? Maybe if I was standing in the other person's shoes I would want an apology too.

Why they say life begins at 30.
Then what have I been doing all this dang time?

The Biological Clock Don't Say "Tick Tock"

I  had decided that my "biological clock" had just not kicked in yet, but I just read on the internet (so it must be true) that it kicks in at your late 20's. My clock has exactly 104 days to get with the program.

Someone recently told me that when you KNOW intimately the amount of work that goes into babies/children, you don't get that poignant urge that you must have a baby NOW.  Or Ever.

After spending a lot of time with my 3 nieces and 3 nephews, there is no mystery. There are lots of great moments, but there is also mind numbing exhaustion and hard work involved. And worry. As a person who struggles with anxiety on a daily basis anyway, I just can't even imagine how ramped up my anxiety would be as a mother. I remember when my nephew "Rah Rah"  was a baby (and even a toddler), he was small for his size and he would sleep in the bed snuggled between his uncle and I. I would wake up panicked hour after hour (minute after minute) that we or our giant cat would squish him, smother him, suffocate him, wake him, or that he would pee in our bed. I also remember how much I loved having all of us snuggled in bed.  How much I loved having the kids around ALL the time. The frustrations, the challenges, the energy needed never stopped me from wanting them around.

I feel like people who want kids- WANT KIDS. In all caps, at all times.  And if you asked me if I wanted kids, I would say "yes" out loud but in my head I would tack the phrase "or whatever" on at the end.

The John Mayer Problem

So I fell in love with John Mayer's music before he was really famous. When he just had one song out that wasn't quite a hit yet. My mom introduced me to him. One of things I love about my mom. My parents have beyond fantastic taste in music. My mom bought me his CD and told me that the song "Neon" reminded her of me. She thinks I have this "spark." That is a whole other post. The thing is I loved, loved, loved John Mayer's music.

And then his personality started being put on display in interviews, social internet mediums, and tabloids. And ugh! Just ugh!  And it almost turned me off to his music completely. But when his latest album came out I was curious. So I bought it and like all of his other music, the more I listen, the more I love. I still don't like the guy, but I could listen to "Edge of Desire" on repeat.

It is just so common now. You can't look up to anybody or admire anybody that has a modicum of public visibility without finding out something completely repugnant about them. And why are people so fascinated by this? I didn't need or necessarily want to know anything about John Mayer, but I couldn't read news media, watch tv, or listen to the radio without hearing about him. I never expected him to be a saint. Everyone is imperfect, I am just trying to figure out how hearing HIS thoughts on HIS sex life is relevant to.....anything? Or for that matter, why I am constantly hearing Mel Gibson's lunatic ravings? Or finding out that politicians are immoral pigs? Can't I just listen to John Mayer's music, watch Mel Gibson's movies, and abide by the laws put in effect by our politicians without knowing the age, weight, rank, and sex of every person they have ever slept with?

Imagine if along with the cover memo I typed today, my boss also had to hear all the sordid details of my failed marriage? My personal life has absolutely nothing to do with how I type cover memos.

When I started this post, my point was I like John Mayer's music. I am not really sure what happened here.
In summary, I am tired of the media and how it works these days. I would like to enjoy a person's talents without being bothered with who they really are. It has nothing to do with their work. The end.

Because This Is My Previous Life ~ Vocabulary

From the archives: 
As many regular readers may know, I love vocabulary. It's just one of my quirks (which incidentally is a GREAT WORD). What can I say, except that degree or not, I will always be an English major at heart. Unfortunately, there are times when vocabulary can make you look like a real jerk. For instance, if you are arguing with someone who is shall we say vocabulary challenged and you tell them that you 'acquiesce on a certain point, chances are you are going to come off looking like a snobbish, condescending jerk. You know they don't know what it means. They know that you know that they don't know what it means. You know that you COULD have just said, "I will give you that point." But you didn't, you had to get all vocabulary on them.

Another instance where vocabulary can make you look like a jerk (and the specific incident that sparked this particular column) is when you get overly excited by your own personal use of your vocabulary. If you usually say repetitive and decided this time to say redundant and then feel the need to cheer yourself on in front of the PRESIDENT of your company for using the word redundant, in fact, you end up making yourself look a) like a jerk and b) a lot dumber than you really are. For those of you out there like me, here's a tip: Using your extensive vocabulary only makes you look good if you don't feel the need to vocally pat yourself on the back afterwards.

And just in case you were wondering, he disagreed with my opinion that two of the bullet points on his outline were redundant.

Because This Is My Previous Life ~ Experiences

From the archives: 

These are the experiences you need before you die!

Experience #1: Being in a car full of people who are all speaking, laughing, and bonding in a language you don’t understand. Talk about perspective. There is nothing more revealing about how boxed in we really are (even in the big awesome better than everybody else US of A) than being in your own car, driving in your own neighborhood and still feeling completely lost because everyone else in your car is having the most uproariously fun time in German. And you don’t understand. Not. One. Word. I learned many things from that experience. 1. If I was lost in Germany, I would remain lost in Germany for quite some time. 2. No matter what language, you will always be able to recognize when a woman is: having girl talk, talking to or about her mother, talking to or about her significant other, and finally when they really need a big chunk of chocolate.


Experience # 2: For those of us who just want to play nice. Watch a woman ask for what she REALLY wants and get it without ruffling any feathers. Watching that I realized just how many times I have accepted sub-par service and products because I just didn’t have the guts to say, “This is not exactly what I was looking for” and then to keep saying it until I did get exactly what I was looking for. My soon to be cousin may have spent an hour at the makeup counter, but at the end of that hour she had obtained the perfectly
stunning look for her wedding day. Not the just almost sort of but not quite look that I would have come away with in ten minutes.


Experience # 3: The lightbulb moment that your husband isn’t trying to be an insensitive jerk, he just comes by it naturally. When you go home and complain to your husband that you now officially have lines on your forehead and that you might as well be dead because you are so freakin’ old already, and he says, “No you don’t.” And that doesn’t make you feel any better, so instead he says, “Why don’t you worry about
everything else that needs to be fixed.” You understandably burst out sobbing. He instantly becomes freaked out and starts saying, “What did I say?” “Baby, what’s wrong?” “What?” “What?” That is when you have the lightbulb moment that he really has no clue. Leading to the 2nd lightbulb moment: Save these kinds of complaints for your girlfriends. ALWAYS save these kinds of complaints for your girlfriends. They get it. He
doesn’t. It will always be this way.


Experience # 4: Realizing that you have your mother’s nose. Or taking pictures of yourself. Last night, I was trying to take pictures of my hair so that I could show the husband the updo I would be wearing in a wedding. He was not going to be home til late and I needed to take my hair down before I went to bed. So I got out the digital camera and started snapping. One picture was from an odd angle and when I looked at it in the viewer I gasped at what I saw. My mother’s nose. In fact it was my mom’s entire face  with chubbier cheeks. It was a really cool thing to see. I just might age well after all.

Confessions ~ Usher (Volume 2)

1. If I ever lose my sight or have serious eye problems, I probably do not deserve sympathy because I change my contacts approximately once every 3 months and I sleep with them in my eyes.  I will still want your sympathy though.

2. I can't use the bathroom at work. I just can't. Here's why: The toilet runs. My kindly employers have explained to me numerous times how to get the toilet to stop running. I can never get it to stop running. I just base my lunch hour and the time I leave for the day on when I have to go to the bathroom. May there never be a bathroom emergency.


3. So last night the dog I am dog sitting kept waking me up so he could go outside (for no reason) and I found myself starting to eat random things while waiting on him. Like marshmallows, chocolate chips, english muffins, goldfish crackers, slices of white bread. It was so random and crazy, but every time he woke me up I found myself snacking. Totally bizarre. And probably part of the reason I was completely sick to my stomach today.

Because This Is My Previous Life ~ Work

From the archives: 

My computer has decided to enter the running for the title holder of "Computer Most Likely to be Restarted 1700 Times Per Day." Why my computer does this to me, I don't know. Well, crap......okay technically I may kinda know what the problem is.

 Here's the deal: While some may frown at the practice of completely running your personal life out of your place of employment, I apparently have no problem doing this. So it is not terribly unusual for me to being paying my cell phone, power, satellite TV, and various other bills online, WHILE checking my bank accounts online to make sure I can afford to pay these bills, WHILE on the phone with my husband discussing said bills, WHILE emailing a friend to tell them how annoying it is to have to discuss bills with my husband while I am at work, WHILE playing a computer game and  listening to web radio because I am bored, WHILE trying to do a little bit of work here and there when my personal life allows it. I am starting to think that all of these activities added to my inability to allow my computer even a second to keep up with me, may tax my computer's reserves just a smidgen. MAYBE.

But more than likely the problem is that my computer is just an old piece of junk. Right? Right! Okay, well, yes I do also expect my computer to run a CD-Rom program, WHILE I am fiddling with some huge spreadsheet, WHILE I am typing a letter for my boss, WHILE I am doing a mail merge, WHILE I am doing all of my personal stuff outlined previously, but I really think that my computer should be able to handle all of that at once. And if it doesn't, the problem is clearly not my expectations for the machine are too high, but that the machine is an outdated dinosaur that keeps spontaneously locking up 10 times a day for no reason. Right? Right!

I could go on and on about this issue but I seem to be having problems with my computer....excuse me while I restart it. AGAIN!

Because This Is My Previous Life ~ Coffee

From the archives of my previous life: 
Because this is my life: 

Today I would like to talk about rites of passage. I feel like I have had some important ones recently. No not that whole marriage thing, I am referring to drinking coffee. That is right folks! I am officially a coffee drinker. No more wussy Frappacinos for me. I have been turned on to the real deal, albeit with lots of cream and sugar.

This is a change that I have felt coming on for some time. Slowly but surely I was stepping closer and closer to total conversion. Not to mention, I was broke and needed a new cheap caffeine fix.

So despite several failed attempts before, on Tuesday I gave coffee the old college try(strange phrase since I never tried in college). 3 sugars and roughly a pound of cream later, I became a coffee drinker. I almost made it through an entire cup on Wednesday and today by 11:00 I was on my second cup of the day. I expect to be ready for an intravenous drip by sometime next week.

This rite of passage has already changed my life in so many ways. In converting to coffeeism, I have saved myself roughly 30 bazillion dollars in Frappacinos. I fear for Starbucks future because I can get coffee free at work. Secondly, I now feel the need to invest in a coffee maker for my personal use at home. This means that I am going to have to completely rearrange my kitchen to make room for it. And since my appliances serve solely as decoration in my kitchen, this basically means that I get to redecorate. Thirdly, I feel like I just took a huge step towards securing my "favored daughter" position FOREVER (insert maniacal laugh here)because both of my parents are devout coffee drinkers and I am now the first and only child to follow in their footsteps. Take that Rita! My mom will be impressed and will tell everyone she knows. Just like she did when I learned how to swallow pills at the age of 24, which is a whole other column. My dad will be fatalistic, but upbeat. Yeah, I don't get it either. Fourthly, I have now become a Barnes & Noble core customer. I now am addicted to both of their vices: books and coffee. Lord help us all!

Confessions ~ Usher (Volume 1)

1. I ate a piece of cake for breakfast.

2. I got a prescription for 8 vicodin tablets back in January. I only have one left. I wish I had more. I wish I didn't think "DRUG SEEKING BEHAVIOR" everytime I tried to figure out how to get more. But before you go thinking I am some kind of drug addict, there are some months where I am in unrelenting pain for no apparent reason. And no other medications work. And it isn't cramps. It's my head and my neck. It's horrible. And seriously 7 pills in 10 months? Not exactly addictive behavior.

3. Tonight my friends are having a scary movie night. We are watching Disturbia and When a Stranger Calls. So not even the scariest of scary movies. I am planning on taking a blanket to cover my face.

4. For the past two days,  I have not felt the need to speak to a single person. Not one word. This is because I have been writing furiously on my blog.  So if anyone says, "Hey Meghaun, I haven't talked to you lately!" I am going to put this zoned out look on my face and say, " That's because I have been talking to myself."

5. Today my hair is in a braid. Not that big of a confession. The confession part? I haven't had my hair in a braid in I don't know how long and it pleases me deeply. Like every three seconds I think to myself in a little singsong voice, "I have a braid, I have a braid."

6. So this one is the weirdest: I stole something today. My boss got this packet in the mail and the front and back covers were this amazing, amazing, amazing sparkly orange cardstock. And I just liked it SO SO much. And the back cover was blank. Unblemished save a little staple punch. And I just wanted it so bad. So I took it off the packet and gave him the packet minus the back cover. True Story. I know, I could have just asked for it, but I would have looked like a total weirdo. I am a total weirdo. But not everyone needs to see my freak flag fly.

Because This Is My Previous Life ~ Little Chocolate Donuts

This is one from the archives: 

Because This Is My Life
(Otherwise Entitled “Why I Go To the Gym”)

There are so many noble reasons to maintain an exercise program. Exercise can help you lose weight, help you ward of depression and stress, give you more energy, keep your body running smoothly, blah, blah, blah blah. These reasons pale in comparison to my own. (drum roll please) LITTLE CHOCOLATE DONUTS!!!!!!!!!!

Little Chocolate Donuts (or LCDs) are the yummiest things ever. Along with any other fattening food that my husband likes to buy at the grocery store and then refuses to share with me.

I know what you are thinking. Why did I marry such an evil no LCD sharing troll? I thought it would be nice to marry a man who cooks and cleans. As it turns out, there is no point marrying someone who will cook and clean up after you if he gets upset that you eat his LCDs and watch tv while he is slaving over a hot stove.

Now the second thing you might be wondering is WHY he won’t share his LCDs with me? I have an answer for this too. He thinks that I think that I need to lose weight and he is trying to help me in this endeavor. His logic is, “If she isn’t happy about her weight, she must want to lose weight. If she loses weight, she will be a happier person.” For me this is faulty reasoning. Yes, I do occasionally get a little depressed when I realize that hour upon hour of watching tv while shoving all of my husbands fatty snacks down my throat as quickly as possible widens my waist the way it does. However, my logic is that if that is the price I have to pay for LCDs and laziness…..SO BE IT!! Because my husband does not appreciate this logic, he has banned me from his snack stash. In fact, just last night I found out that he counts his Little Debbie snacks to make sure that I don’t steal any. I must say that this information would have been extremely helpful before I stole three, but whatever.

All this “no more sharing” business was making the home environment rather ugly for a week or two, but I have hit upon a solution. The gym. That’s right folks, my savior in the snack drought turns out to be the local health club. Now that I go to the gym on a regular basis, my beloved merely gives me a dirty look when I plunder his snacks. Yes technically his snacks are still off limits to me, BUT when he catches me all I have to do is say, “Hey I have been going to the gym every day this weekend.” Instead of getting angry, he just claims to be disappointed and lets it go. Disappointment is a small price to pay for a chocolatey morsel.

The key to all this is that I go to the gym alone. Sans the evil no sharing LCD troll. That way when I say my arms are sore, he doesn’t have to know the soreness comes from repeated lifting of a large coffee to my lips while reading a book in the health club’s café. Not that I would do that. Right? Right.

Dearest Darling Nephew

Dearest Nephew,

I submit this to you as a user’s manual of sorts. Or a guide to life. Or pointless drivel. (Oh? You don’t know what drivel is? Well look it up! You father, mother, and sister are all very smart-I must tough love you so that you keep up.)

So anyways, lesson # 1. This is not in order of importance, but I am not gonna lie-this one is PRETTY IMPORTANT. What to do if someone is mean, unkind, unfair, annoying, or otherwise bothersome: Tell Aunt Rita. Now look, you have a dad, mom, big sister, grandparents, older aunts, older uncles, etc. You could tell any of them. But don’t. Tell Aunt Rita. Aunt Rita is a FEARSOME WARRIOR. Tell her and then develop an alibi and amnesia so that when the cops come to the door because the person who was upsetting you has mysteriously disappeared, you can have a clean(ish) conscience.

Caveats: (what? do I have to buy you a dictionary?? oh now you can’t read?? YOUR SISTER was reading Shakespeare in the hospital nursery!! No pressure. Everyone learns at their own pace).

Caveat #1: If the person bothering you is Aunt Meghaun. DO NOT TELL AUNT RITA! First of all, it was just a joke! Can’t you take a joke? Don’t be so sensitive. Second of all, you should tell your big sister, Juli. I know for a fact that Juli can take a joke and she will think it was hilarious. Or umm hey no what I mean is, tell Juli because she is the only person I am afraid of and she will deal with me.

Caveat #2: If the person bothering you is Aunt Rita. Look kid, Aunt Rita is no joke. Please obey her. OBEY HER. She is probably just looking out for you and being protective. But if that isn’t working out for you, I have a few suggestions. You could tell your maternal grandparents. (I will clue you in on this one: maternal=mother. In short, Ed & Liz). They will feel your pain and overcompensate by being ridiculously sweet spoiling pushovers AND they will tell on Aunt Rita to your mom. But there it gets dicey because your mom will think that your maternal grandparents are being ridiculous pushovers and she will think that Aunt Rita’s tough love balances everything out. Option 2: Put on puppy dog sad eyes (Jack,your beagle, will teach you) and say in a quivering voice: “I was just trying to love you.” Bonus if you can squeeze out a single tear. If that works, mutter under your breath something about a shoe and an other foot and then IMMEDIATELY call Aunt Meghaun and Aunt Margaux and scream, “ IT WORKED!” And then laugh maniacally. (Aunt Rita totally burned your sweet innocent Aunties Megs and Margaux with this tactic once). Option 3: This is ALWAYS a good option for anything and everything. Prayer.

Caveat #3: If the person bothering you is a girl at school. Tell Aunt Margaux. I don’t have any proof, but instinct tells me that Aunt Margaux will handle this in a unique and special way. Caveat to this caveat: Only repeat things Auntie Margaux says about this girl if you are prepared to get what at my school was called a “caution slip” and be disciplined by your parents.

Lesson #2: Your big sister. This is a hodge podge of facts, suggestions, warnings. I begin with a story: As a toddler, your sister found my pain amusing. Especially when she caused it. She would climb on the back of the couch while I was laying on it and launch herself off the back of the couch onto my abdominal musclelard (pronounced MUSK YOU LARD). This is a made up word that I taught Juli for my fatty areas. Not that I have fatty areas. Just...you know....hypothetically.  She weighed more than a small bowling ball. Imagine what it would feel like to have small bowling ball dropped onto your stomach. It hurt! I would writhe in agony. Yelp in pain. And all the while, your sweet, sweet, loving, kind, empathetic sister would laugh and laugh and laugh and then climb onto the back of the couch so that she could do it again. I can not suggest that you climb on the furniture. Or cause your sister harm. But you know if you get bored or feel like avenging your poor, poor Aunt Meghaun’s abdominals, it’s not like I am there to stop you. Bonus, I am also not there to be accused of being a bad influence by your parents. But nevermind about that!

And now some warnings. If Juli’s eyes ever take on a glint or a glaze and she whispers something about you not being that much bigger than a “fuzzy” RUN! RUN! RUN! Have you met her snake Charlie? Do you want to know how long it would take Charlie to digest you? Juli does.

When coupled with a glint or glaze of the eyes, here are other words that signal the need to RUN!: Experiment. Shark.

And now some facts: Juli thinks I am the fun aunt. Of course, just because Juli thinks I am the fun aunt doesn’t mean you have to think I am. But Juli is very smart. And she has spent a lot of time with me. So it seems like she would know. Jus’ Sayin’

Juli wants nothing more than to read to you all the time. And she likes to do all the voices of the different characters. When she says: “Go Away! I am playing on the computer!” or “Hey! Can’t you see I am busy?” she means that she really, really, really wants to read to you. She just needs you to prove your devotion by asking again and again.

Lesson # 3: Fitting in with your family. As previously mentioned, your immediate family is a very, very smart group of people. No pressure!

They are nearly perfect. But there is this one thing, this little, teeny, tiny, wrinkle that they all seem to have.......Competitiveness. Who knew that Taboo, Rummikub, Spades, or Mario for Nintendo Wii are in fact, “extreme games?” Anyone who has played them with your family. That’s who knew. Dog eat dog. Kill or be killed. Eat or be eaten.

Lesson #4: Why I call you Sam. It’s possible that this is not applicable. If I don’t call you Sam, feel free to disregard. But if I do call you Sam, here’s why: 1. You are named Sam. (It’s possible.) 2. You are named something truly awful like Methuselah or Ruprecht. Since it’s bizarre that I call you Sam if your name is not Sam, I decided to make it an acronym. (Dictionary!) But I couldn’t think of a good one for SAM, but I thought of an awesome one for SAAAM. So it will always be like I am yelling at you. Should Always Adore Auntie Meghaun. It also would work for Auntie Margaux. But for Rita it would have to be SAAAR and if I yelled that people would panic because SARS is a serious form of pneumonia and it once had an international outbreak. And I am trying really hard to think of an adorable lil boy name that ends in R because Auntie Rita totally deserves an acronym, but I am drawing a blank. LEMAR? Lovingly Embrace Magnificent Aunt Rita. Oh now that is cute! Is LEMAM a real name? Could I get away with that?

Lesson #5: Girl stuff. Welcome to a family of all girls! If you want sympathy about this, cling to the paternal side of the family. They are a boy family. We gots none for you buddy!  Deal with it! Always tell us we are pretty and we look nice and if we cry give us hugs and if we are angry you should hide really well. Also we are good at fixing you up if you hurt yourself and spoiling you rotten when you are sick and we like everything you will ever draw for us and we like flowers. The end.

Lesson #6: Sports (this is as close to “Boy stuff” as you are gonna get from me). Let me make this easy for you: You are a Cardinals’ Fan. A St. Louis Cardinals’ Fan. You are NOT a Chicago Cubs’ Fan. You are NOT a White Sox Fan. If you want to be a Bears’ Fan or a Bulls’ Fan you are setting yourself up for a life filled with sadness and disappointment but that is your business. I mean, arguably it is better and far less embarrassing to be a Bears’ fan than a Rams’ fan. And St. Louis doesn’t have an NBA team so who really are you supposed to cheer for in basketball?  When it comes to the NBA, have you seen Nash play? Doesn’t his energy, his “give it your all, can-do” attitude restore your faith in professional athletes? Don’t you like to tell yourself that at some point you have to accept that Jordan affiliated himself with other teams after the Bulls so how traitorous is it really if you decide that you are a Suns’ fan? Don’t we all have to let go of the past sometime? Unless in the past you were a Cubs’ fan, which is never okay!

Three more lessons to go.....hang in there......

Lesson #7: Aunt Meghaun talks too much. Sorry.

Lesson# 8: Your dad is fantastic. He is so smart. And he has this great sense of humor. And he is a giant dork, which sounds like an insult, but I only use it towards people I love and admire. He has this quirk of only liking certain kinds of pens (don’t use his) which I used to think was totally Type A and crazy and now I totally have this “don’t touch MY pens” reputation among my close friends and so I understand. Nice pens are shockingly expensive. Also he makes a lot of really great decisions. My favorite is that he married my big sister. But second to that would be any decision he has made to serve God more fully. I just could go on and on about your dad and how well he thrives (survives?) in this crazy family and how he doesn’t just put up with us, he actually seems to LOVE us. And I think he will be tough on you and have high expectations for you and I also think that the two of you will be adorably dorky friends. You and your dad are going to have the best and worst of times together. But you will survive the worst of times by reminding yourself that just like you he is imperfect and you know this because Auntie Meghaun told you in this letter that he used to be a Cubs’ Fan. I have forgiven him, so should you.

Lesson # 9: Your mom is awesome. Your mom has never given me bad advice. Ever. Your mom has given me unsolicited advice when I was an ungrateful youth and didn’t appreciate it, but it was never bad advice. And in the past few years, your mom has given me advice that I will keep with me forever and I quote to people all of the time. She’s a regular guru that woman! Oprah who?? Personal favorites: 1. Being happy is the best revenge. 2. Don’t hold back from reaching out for God because you think are not where you need to be, if you aren’t where you need to be Jehovah will get you there. This alone tells you a lot of what you need to know about your mom. She is spiritual, smart, funny, wise, generous, loving, she recommends good books, and if you are of age and having a very bad day she will know to make you a drink. She can totally dish on all that is pop culture. She has great taste in music. So great that is almost makes all the time your dad devoted to bad 80’s bands okay. So when you are behaving like a typical boy and your mother stares at you like you are an alien life form that has just informed her that you are here to perform horrific experiments upon her, just know that she has a lot of other really great stuff going for her. And boys are an all new ball game.


Love,

Auntie Meghaun

Fruit Pizza

Fruit Pizza.

Ingredients:
Pre-made sugar or snickerdoodle cookie dough.
2 containers of marshmallow fluff or one big container.
1 large container of Whipped Cream Cheese.
A variety of fruit.

Directions:
Buy pre-made sugar cookies.  Cut the roll into thin(ish)slices and place them thisclose together on a cookie sheet. The idea is that they all bake together to make one big cookie. Don't try to roll the roll out flat like a pie crust.
Bake as directed. I hold this truth to be self-evident that crunchy cookies are an abomination and a sin against sugar so I always bake them slightly less than directed.

When done put crust in fridge so that it gets nice and cool.

In a bowl mix marshmallow fluff and cream cheese. Mix it until it is nice and smooth and tasty.

Now cut up your fruit variety as desired. Use your imagination. Go crazy!

Spread marshmallow cream cheese "sauce" on cooled crust. Sprinkle fruit on. Serve immediately.


Awesome original twist alert: Pre-made Turtle cookie dough, caramel sauce, granny smith apple slices, drizzle more caramel over top. Oooo la la!