Category: Uncategorized

Murder! Mayhem!

It’s the theme of the week. My first visit to Houston’s Murder By The Book was for a Q&A/booksigning for two mystery authors Harley Jane Kozak and Randy Wayne White. Both were wonderfully funny speakers (shockingly, many writers are not), and I’m looking forward to reading their books, DATING IS MURDER and DEAD OF NIGHT. Some of you might recognize Harley Jane from the movies Parenthood and Arachnophobia as well as a variety of soap roles.

with photos

Mary Tyler Moore and Condi

Condi would be a lot happier if she could take a nothing day and suddenly make it all seem worthwhile. She has a headstart (she just needs her own theme song).

Working with Dick Cheney? It’s like having Mr. Grant in the next office. “Condi?!? I HATE spunk!”

George W. and Laura are Condi’s Not-So-Bright Ted and wife Georgette. Well, if Georgette was a chain smoker.

Colin Powell used to be her sensible coworker Murray. I wonder if Colin is working a cruise ship now?

Any ideas on who in CondiWorld fills the roles of Best Pal Rhoda, Slutty Sue Ann, and Bitter Phyllis?

they wanted to go to school

In Redlake, Minnesota, a fifteen-year-old boy killed his sleeping grandfather, Police Sergeant Daryl Allen Lussier, Sr., age 58, and his grandfather’s girlfriend, Michelle Leigh Sigana, age 32, at home using a Ruger MK II .22 caliber pistol.

He then drove to Red Lake Senior High School, taking his grandfather’s two police-issue weapons, a .40 caliber Glock 23 pistol and a Remington 870 12 gauge pump-action shotgun, a gun belt, and a bulletproof vest, where he killed seven others before he took his own life after an exchange of gunfire with police officers.

The school shooting victims were:

Derrick Brian Brun, age 28, Security Guard.
Neva Jane Wynkoop-Rogers, age 62, English teacher.
Alicia Alberta White, age 14, student.
Thurlene Marie Stillday, age 15, student.
Chanelle Star Rosebear, age 15, student.
Chase Albert Lussier, age 15, student.
Dewayne Michael Lewis, age 15, student.

Spring and Change

It’s the first day of spring and I just saw a yellow butterfly. It’s not the first butterfly I’ve seen this year, but still, I’ll take it as a good omen. I’ll take all the good omens I can get.

One time (at band camp) at Baba Yega’s, one of my favorite Montrose eateries, I shared my lunch with a butterfly. It landed on a piece of melon and stayed with me, drinking, for nearly half an hour. Better than watching the Discovery channel!

I recently went to Baba Yega’s for the first time in quite a while. I remember when it was a dumpy little place with great food. Then there was a kitchen fire and they renovated, and it was nicer and still had great food.

One of its best features was the garden. A rock fountain, pond, exotic birds, tons of beautiful water flowers surrounded by other flowering plants always in bloom… It was great to eat a relaxed lunch, wander through the garden and talk to the birds, then exit through Wild Earth, their metaphysical shop, which was a source for the essential oils, herbs, and stones and crystals I use in my bodywork and energy work practice.

It’s changed again. Wild Earth is gone. I guess they’re expanding an express feature of the restaurant into that space. The birds are gone. When I was there, the doors to the garden were closed. I don’t know if that was because of the cool weather or if lingering in the garden is no longer encouraged.

The food is still fine, but it’s not as much fun–nor does the brisker pace encourage you–to watch the clientele. The patrons could be picked up and set down in any suburban Bennigan’s or TGI Friday’s and blend into the unauthentic decor. Yet another Montrose establishment adapting to the changes of the last ten years. I miss the grittier, edgier Baba Yega’s…and Montrose.

Two Days Later

Still no response from Condi about the slumber party. I think she has that sour expression because they keep her so busy in Washington. I’ll probably hear from her the next time she has a day off. I’m upping the ante and adding Cheetos™ to the mix.

It was suggested that we could crank call Janet Reno at the slumber party. I say, why not just invite Janet, too? Now there’s a gal who had a tough time in Washington. AND was part of losing two elections to Condi’s husband boss and his brother. A little Cheetos™ dust and maybe doing a slam book together could fix some hurt feelings.

Contemplating Condi

Now I can’t stop thinking about Condi. You know what I think she needs? A good slumber party. So I’m officially inviting Condi to my house for an old-fashioned slumber party. (Note to Condi: You don’t have to bring the Secret Service. There are ALWAYS “phone trucks” on my street, and I know what that’s all about.)

Me, Condi, and a few friends. (Note to Readers: Feel free to invite yourselves.) Queso and chips, plenty of Keebler cookies, popcorn, pink sponge rollers, those little thingies you fit between your toes when you give each other pedicures, a Ouija board to commune with Bob Dole and Newt Gingrich… What; they’re not dead? Whatever.

I believe a slumber party could make Condi smile. It’s just a shame that *69 and Caller I.D. have ruined the world of crank calling. I’ll bet Condi knows a LOT of good numbers.