Scary Grass Cam!

While I can't imagine this will inspire as much response as my last post*, I hope you'll join me in feeling a little nervous about my brown grass. I've been here before - driving through the neighborhood, mentally comparing my grass to others'. But this time my grass matches. My previous fact-finding missions were in the summer and spring, when everyone's grass was green. Brown, it seems, is only appropriate in the winter months. So...gulp...here it is. My Brown Grass.


Sad Grass Cam.
Originally uploaded by The Daily Digress

I hope to provide a service to anyone else feeling panicked about their grass supply drying up. My lawn dude assures me everyone's grass is patchy and brown at the moment. Do not be alarmed! In the video, you can hear the leaf blowers from our neighbor's lawn dudes. Actually, I think his are landscapers, which increases the price quite a bit. They wouldn't bother doing stuff to the grass if it was flat out dead, now would they? I plan to landscape when I no longer have a herd of little boys trampling my lawn-tastic lusciousness. Or maybe, you know, never.

Speaking of panic, the Wellbutrin seems to be working. I've maintained my sparkling personality while freaking out a little bit less. My sister-in-law confirmed that I seem like less of a freak. She is nice. I think. Just kidding. I know she's nice. She's my favorite person in my husband's family, his brother's wife and the only one not related to him by blood. I'll stay with him because a divorce would make things between me and V. awkward and she rocks. Also, I really like our house and I couldn't afford it on my blogger's income. And he's cute. And buys me grass.

Namasté, y'all!

* Dear Esperantonions, I meant no offense. I'm actually impressed. I barely speak English and only know a few words of French, Spanish, German, Serbian (just the cuss words) and Italian. I think it's very cool that y'all are so passionate about Esperanto. Is it cheap to say "I don't hate Esperanto. I had a friend in high school who spoke Esperanto?"It sounds like, um, a real lifestyle or something. And Chisanbop rules! I want to learn it now!

Grass Cam in November.

It's been a while since I updated the Grass Cam. That's because the grass has been causing me a great deal of anxiety, as have some other random things, like my whole life and everything about it. The Wellbutrin, it seems, might be working, even though it hasn't even been a week. The following things happened p.w.*:

• I cleaned out the fridge for the first time in three years. Or more.
• I made pasta sauce to freeze. Specifically, Puttanesca sauce. Semi-recipe to follow.
  
• I avoided the umpteenth argument with O. about pants. I am so completely over the long pants vs. shorts debate. We live in South Carolina. It's not like he'll die of frostbite. So go ahead and call DSS, maybe they can talk him into pants. I'd like to see that.
• I made a Grass Cam video. Watch for a surprise at the end.
  

Grass Cam in the Fall
Originally uploaded by The Daily Digress

The surprise, in case you missed it, is that it goes all wonky at the end, because something crawled over my foot. I missed it, as I was too busy writhing around and making stupid noises. It reminded me of one of my mottoes:

I love the outdoors, as long as there are cocktails involved, preferably served by a waiter on a patio near a silent bug zapper.

Speaking of that motto, I found this site the other day, sommeecards.com. Great stuff, including this one:

Exactly. I cannot, at this point, have a cocktail on my patio because I'm old and catch a chill and the Wellbutrin is not man enough to assuage my fears about the grass dying. Will someone please chime in with, "Oh, your grass is fine. It gets brown like that in the Fall. There, there, dear"? Please?

Oh, yeah. Puttanesca. I'm sure there's a strict way to make it and you are more than welcome to Google on and find it. I'm of the mind it should involve anchovies, olive oil, capers, olives and tomatoes. The details are of little import. I mean, "puttanesca" basically means "hooker," right? And you know those hookers don't have time to sweat the details. Here's how it went down today:

• Dump a bunch of olive oil in a pan. Heat it.
• Get out a packet of green olives wrapped in anchovies you thought looked good at the store. They were vile. Chop them up and dump them in the oil.
• Wipe out the rest of a jar of chopped garlic and dump that in, too. Pat yourself on the back for cleaning out the fridge and finding it.
• Ditto the above, but substitute "jar of capers."
  
• Stir for a few minutes.
• Drain and dump in two cans of tomatoes, one with green chilis.
• Stir it a little, decide it isn't red enough and add the end of a tube of tomato paste, making your fridge even cleaner.
• Heat for a while, then spoon as much as you like over pasta. Sprinkle copious amounts of Parmesan on top.

It freezes very well, is more or less approved by children and is cheap, cheap, cheap. Like a hooker.

Namasté, y'all!

* Post-Wellbutrin. Duh.

Happy Birthday to you, Mom!

Of course, I already called her and sang the entire "Happy Birthday Song," loudly. Right into the phone, so she could hear me, of course. Old people like it when you're loud, because they can't hear so good. But sometimes they ask you to quiet down, especially in public. Old people are so fickle. Anyhow, I thought posting additional well wishes to my mom, right here on my blog, would really make her feel loved. It's important to make really old people feel loved, because they're like toddlers that way. I love you, Mommy! You're such a good girl!

On your birthday, you might enjoy reading my column in the Free Times, because it's kind of about you, one of the original Seventies Moms. They haven't put it online yet, so you'll have to wait for the link.

UPDATE: Here it is! I will no longer be the only site that comes up when someone Googles "Eggplant Mush Pizza" in quotes. Oh well.

You might also enjoy reading my article in the September issue of Jolie. For those of you who are not my mother, Jolie is a local magazine, published by the State Newspaper and available (for free) in a retail location near you! My article is about my oldest son, my sister's old t-ball shirts and my own insecurity. They don't have an online version, but I'll happily mail an autographed copy ($20, shipping and handling included) to absolutely anyone who asks.

Lastly, Mom, I made a special Grass Cam, just for you. There are no surprises, because old people are so sensitive. Please enjoy the grass and the sound of water from the barren Koi Pond trickling in the background. Even barren things can be lovely - like old people! I love you, Mom!



Happy Birthday, Mommy!

Sprinkler vs. Rain

If the sprinkler system is so smart, why is it triggered by rain? If I'm so smart, why can't I figure out how to fix it? Huh? Huh? Answer me that! And why am I freaked out by this? It's set to go off every few days, at four in the morning. I know this to be true. But if it rains, the sprinkler starts going, all on its own, like that scary car in that movie. Maybe it's just very competitive.



Seriously, though, doesn't the grass look pretty? Make sure you watch the whole thing. There's a little surprise around the 21-second mark. And, don't worry, you can still hear the woodpecker. Sometimes he hides in the rain, but not today.

And, yeah, I stood out in the rain under my big yellow raincoat that I haven't worn since college to take this video. Why? Why?

Namasté, y'all!

Drinking and Blogging..Part IHaveNoIdea...

Big Day. I haven't updated the Grass Cam in a while, because I've been scared. The Sprinkler Man came by recently and adjusted the system.Our precious grass is no longer being watered three times a day. It is only being watered once every three days. At 4 in the morning. So I have no idea if it's actually happening. I just have to trust the Sprinkler Man. This feels like the first time you leave your baby at the drop-in nursery. Scary!


Grass Cam. After the Big Storm.
Originally uploaded by The Daily Digress

Please note that this is a panoramic view of the grass after a huge storm. We are not in the habit of having such a junky lawn. You can still hear the woodpecker! And the neighbor's air conditioning unit!

Also, I have another article in the Free Times. Read it if you love me.

Also, I just completely rocked out to this, in front of my husband, who has never heard it. He looked at me like I was some kind of an idiot, because he totally doesn't get it. I felt really sad for him and I don't want you to miss out, because The Jets are, like, my favorite band ever (as of a few minutes ago, when I Googled a snippet of nearly forgotten lyrics and found them.) Check it!



And, um, just one more. Rock it!



I can't say anything about those videos. They speak for themselves.

Namasté, y'all!

Grass Cam. Free Times. Rock.

The X-Man got in the car after school a few months ago, choking back laughter, trying desperately to tell us about the funniest thing that ever happened. Apparently, when his class was on a field trip, the teacher did roll call. Each child, unsurprisingly, was expected to answer, "Here" or, for the fancier children, "Present." The X-Man's friend D, when his name was called, responded thusly,

"Rock."

First graders are easily entertained. I don't know if he meant rock as in Guns N' Roses* or rock as in something in a Japanese Rock Garden. I'm going with the first. Rock, y'all!



Another month has passed and Free Times has been gracious enough to print another article of mine. Here it is if you would like to read it. At the moment, I'm feeling pretty good about writing for Free Times because it got me invited to a Sangria tasting party tomorrow afternoon. Wheee!

As if all that rocking and writing wasn't enough to occupy my time, I made another video for the Grass Cam today. This is the grass right before a storm. There's some thunder and, of course, the woodpecker. It reminds me of that thing at the zoo in the bird house where they make it like a storm and all the birds make a lot of noise. I love that thing.


Grass Before a Storm.
Originally uploaded by The Daily Digress

Namasté, y'all!

* What's up with the apostrophe after the N? If they mean "And," it should be 'N', I suppose. If they mean "In," which either makes no sense at all or is totally and completely filthy, it should be 'N. Discuss.

Business Pajamas.

In preparation for the weekend, my husband dresses more and more like a slob. Today, he's sporting the ultimate in sloppy business attire, what I like to call "Business Pajamas," otherwise known as the Seersucker Suit. He used to rock it with an edge. He'd wear black Doc Marten's and a fairly severe tie. It looked cool, for pajamas. Those days are over. Today he rocked every Southern gentleman's favorite summer suit with a pink shirt, a monkey tie and...shudder...white bucks. I really was okay until I saw the white bucks. Why? Why? This is not the man I married. Also, his previous, hipper Business Pajamas had flat-front pants. These have pleats. Ew. Marriage is hard and I'm at a loss on this one. What do I do? I think I'm going to have to let this one go, because he's digging his white buck-clad heels in. Oh, well. I suppose I should just be happy it wasn't a bow tie.

He met us for lunch at the Happy Café, which is when I was inspired to send this text via Twitter:

My husband is rockin' his business pajamas with a monkey tie. Stand back, ladies. He's all mine!

I was being sarcastic. Did you get it? Did you? You probably did. He, however, is blind to any criticism of his new look. His response?

Too late. My seersucker a** is burning for all the ladies checking it out.

I sincerely hope he was being sarcastic, because if he thinks that is true, I feel sad for him. If you see him, tell him he looks hot. Try not to use the same voice you use when you pretend to believe a three year old in a Super Man costume is the real Super Man.

In other news, terrible mother that I am, I made the X-Man stand in the grass for the Grass Cam to demonstrate...I don't know what. But his feet are cute and the grass is still lovely. And never fear, the woodpecker can be heard. Wheee!



Namasté, y'all!

What is it with me and dudes who fix the internet?

"Now, I don't want you to take this the wrong way..."

What is it with me and internet repair guys? Why do they all say this to me? Don't they know how that makes me feel? Like I'm about to get dumped, that's how. In this case, by some guy I'm not even seeing. Just how can you get dumped by someone you've only just met?

"It's about your husband..."

Well, that certainly took it up a notch. I considered the possibilities and there were only two:

1. The guy was a sexist jerk who assumed my husband had tried to fix it himself and screwed it up worse. In fact, I am far more likely to attempt such a thing, although in this case I had not. But I've been known. And it works about 50% of the time.
2. My husband had done something to offend him that was so awful I would be compelled to leave him...and run away with the internet guy, who wasn't really my type.

I suppose it was the second, although there was no invitation to run away together. Guess I wasn't his type either. My husband's unforgivable sin was neglecting to save his card and call him when the internet broke again. It had broken a week or so before and the same guy came to fix it*. Apparently, when our evil empire ISP gets another repair request within two weeks of the first, the initial repair person gets a "bad report." I guess this is like the opposite of a gold star. Maybe they put a little frownie face sticker in his file. It sounds like a horrible way to evaluate employees. The second problem had nothing to do with the first one. The most recent was caused by lightening busting up our surge protector or some such nonsense. As far as I can understand, the surge protector died in the line of duty. The computer was saved. Hooray! But I digress.

The guy was very upset with my husband for not saving his card and calling him. But we didn't know the rule of the evil empire! Frankly, I don't think it's my problem. I would change phone companies, but I've only heard of one other company. And only one person I know uses them and she's crazy, the sort of person who, whatever she does, you should do the opposite. I don't think the guy should have bothered me about it. I think he needs to take it up with Toby, or whoever the HR person is at his office.

I told him what he wanted to hear so he would go away. I promised to save his card and made a big show of putting it somewhere safe. He went on and on about how my husband should have called him. It was late and I just wanted him to leave so I could pour myself a glass of wine, which felt awkward with him standing there, even though it was already seven in the evening. I thought adding alcohol to the mix might send the wrong message.

When he finally left, I relaxed by watching this video of my grass, over and over again, with a nice bottle of Pouilly-Fuissé. The video was so relaxing I didn't even finish the bottle. Please enjoy the following thirty seconds of freshly mown grass in the morning. Don't miss the soothing sound of the Woodpecker about halfway into the clip. I freakin' love that guy!


Thirty Seconds of Freshly Mown Lawn in the Morning
Originally uploaded by The Daily Digress

Namasté, y'all!

* Incidentally, this was not B'Gary, who remains my favorite internet dude of all time. This second guy had potential, too. The first time he fixed the internet, he was charming in his lack of desire to explain how the magical internets work.

Sprinklers are awesome!

Please enjoy the soft sounds of the sprinkler intermingling with the peaceful sounds of the Woodpecker. That's what she said.

Namasté, y'all!

Overgrown Grass on Monday June 2, 2008

Grass on Monday June 2, 2008
Originally uploaded by The Daily Digress

Is it really wrong of me to wonder why the lawn dude hasn't been by to mow our grass? I mean, I know, over the years, we've proved to be 100% useless in the yard, but we weren't getting paid for it. Technically, he doesn't get paid for it if he doesn't do it because he bills us after it's done, but I'm so worried about the grass! It's such a mystery to me. If it grows too long, could it become suicidal and choke itself to death?

This is just one of the things I worry about at night, when I can't sleep. One of the other things I worry about is something Charlotte said in the Sex and the City Movie. I'm paraphrasing, but when she was asked if she was happy all the time in her marriage, she answered,

"We're happy every day. Maybe not all day, every day, but every day."

Yet a third thing that worries me is that I took a line from that movie so seriously that it makes me lie awake at night, pondering the health of my marriage. I think my husband is mad at me every day. Maybe not all day, every day, but every day.

Speaking of the third thing, my cool friend and neighbor Colleen sent me an email a while back with some excellent news. She found the elusive "Third Thing" skit from Saturday Night Live with Justin Timberlake. One of the funniest skits of all time, if you ask me. Check it out. I dare you not to die laughing when JT says the line about the "third thing." Thank you, Colleen!

Namasté, y'all!

Ever so slightly better...

First of all, thank you from the bottom of my heart to those of you who commented, emailed or even just sat there and thought good thoughts for me. I got all sniffly feeling the love. And I'm not even being sarcastic, which as you may know is highly unusual. Anyhow, thank you.

In an attempt to drag myself out from under the dark cloud yesterday, I decided to actually get in the car and take O's medical form for camp to his pediatrician's office to get it signed. Surprisingly, it wasn't all that difficult and I felt a small weight lift off my shoulders. It's amazing how one little, mildly annoying task can bring you down. I thought of Michael Crichton who, when asked how he managed to write so much, answered that he uses a technique called BTC*. Or AIC**, as the case may be. Actually doing stuff really does help. Funny, that.

During my long drive to the pediatrician's office, my mind wandered to other authors I admire. I admire Crichton for the sheer volume he produces, but these others speak to my soul. For the curious, they include:

• Nora Ephron, particularly in essay writing mode. I found her book "Crazy Salad" at my grandparents' beach house when I was about ten years old. My parents, distracted by their younger brood, didn't notice when I read the whole thing, twice. "Crazy Salad" shaped so many of my views on feminism, food, politics and life in general. And it was really, really funny. I had a fairly sophisticated sense of humor for a ten year old.
  
• Amy and David Sedaris. "Me Talk Pretty One Day" is one of the funniest books ever written. I was almost kicked off an airplane because I was laughing so hard. Amy's book, "I Like You" is an inspiration. She is the hostess I strive to be. The Sedarises are Southern, like me, which makes me feel clever by association. I'll take what I can get, yo.
  
• Jeffrey Steingarten. This man is a genius. Since 1989, he has somehow managed to get Vogue to pay for all sorts of things he wants, like fifty pounds of some imported thousand million dollar obscenely expensive bacon he wanted to experiment with in the kitchen. But he burns the sh*t out of his shins on the open oven door and drops the fancy bacon. Then he cries, because the bacon is ruined. Too traumatized to start over, he instead writes a brilliant, humorous and informative piece about recipes on the backs of boxes, like Snickers Pie. Brilliant. I don't even want to guess how much he got paid for that, because I would probably explode with jealousy.
  

My mood also improved because my awesome editor at the Free Times, Ron Aiken, changed the online version of my article back to how I wrote it. Now if I sound stupid, I have no one to blame but myself! Hooray! Coincidentally, Eva Moore, author of the "Chew on This" column and other things at the Free Times, put a different crab salad recipe on her blog. It sounds delicious and I can't wait to try it. Also, it's simpler than mine, which my ever supportive mother-in-law claims has "too many ingredients." Oh well, you can't please everyone!

And here is some excitement to usher in the weekend, a video installment of the Grass Cam, with a twist! See if you can spot the Roly-Poly as he navigates the lush and mysterious forest! Listen for the sounds of nature, including a woodpecker, some random birds, the neighbors' air conditioner and the trickling water of our Koi pond, which is devoid of fish because we kept killing them! Fun for the whole family!



Namasté, y'all!

* Butt Bottom To Chair.

**A** In Car.

Grass in Action

Grass in Action
Originally uploaded by The Daily Digress

Here it is, yo. Our grass is still going strong. The yard guy came again. I detect a new hint of respect in his eyes. I no longer drive around the block until his truck is gone to avoid his pitying stare. In this picture, you can see the grass enduring some pretty hard-core traffic. Will it survive? At least we don't have a dog... Stay tuned!

If you're really into grass, here's a nice unadulterated shot of the grass covered in fake morning dew from the sprinkler system.

Namasté, y'all!

This for you, Aaron.

Look at that Grass, Man
Originally uploaded by The Daily Digress

You may have noticed something new in the sidebar on the left right. Or maybe you haven't. It's been suggested to me that there are some complete lunatics out there with too much time on their hands my more sophisticated readers would appreciate a Grass Cam, a chronicle of our attempt to grow grass. While I deeply regret not starting sooner, like before the grass even went in, I see no reason not to start right now. I added some pictures of barren spots to give you a feel for what our yard was like BG*. They're dramatizations and not pictures of our actual yard. If that's not enough, just ask our neighbors how bad it was. The picture above is our current, lush lawn. We'll see how long that lasts.

This is the Grass Cam. Some time in the middle of April (I can't be expected to remember when), we decided to attempt to grow grass. We've tried before and failed, but life is a gamble, right? I wrote about it here. The creation of the Grass Cam is also a nice way for me to get to know Flickr, which I'll be using on my new blog eventually.

I think the Grass Cam is classier than the one I had planned, A** Cam, which would have chronicled my experiments with Yoga, cellulite cream and self tanner as a means of improving the look of my a**. Just be thankful you were spared.

Enjoy the grass, dude!

* Before Grass. Duh.