Tag: entertainment

Too sad

Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson. Two icons, but beyond their celebrity, two individuals with a lot of people who loved them.

RIP.

ETA: I just got super annoyed on Facebook at the chastising tone of someone saying that nobody would think about or talk about Iran anymore because of two celebrity deaths. I don’t try to stir up conflict, so I stilled my hands on the keyboard.

Since this is MY LiveJournal, however, I’ll say what I please here. Which basically is:

I still care about Iran. Iran and the Neda video have tormented my waking and sleeping thoughts for days. I fervently support any people’s cry for justice and struggle for freedom.

But I also think art is one of those things that transcends the various artificial boundaries we invent to separate us. These two people (Fawcett, Jackson) were cultural icons, their names and work known all over the world. I see nothing wrong or abnormal about mourning or discussing their deaths. Regardless of his screwed up personal life, Michael Jackson’s musical appeal was universal. And even if someone finds the merit of Farrah’s work (which included movies about women empowering themselves) debatable, she put up a valiant fight against her cancer and wanted her experience to give other people hope and comfort in their own struggle with illness.

It’s never wrong to pause to note the loss of any of us, from the most obscure child dying of starvation in Darfur, to the death of a young girl on the streets of Iran, to the passing of someone who felt like a part of our growing up. As Christina says in her comment to this post, hearing news like that brings to mind the losses we’ve known in our own lives. We feel compassion for those who will suffer as we have.

The world can never have an over-abundance of compassion.

Tuesday rambling

I know Tuesday is over in my time zone, but this was my planned Tuesday post so you get what you get.

First, what happened to TJL’s Tuesdays With Rexford? After MGH scared me with a photo of that Killer Beast everyone calls “Joey” in some attempt to make him seem harmless, I think I deserved a Rex photo. Though I’ll bet Tim wouldn’t have told you that Rex has salmon skin breath.

Second, “they” say change is good. I decided to test that theory. When I got up Tuesday morning, I did what everyone with a bladder that’s turned 35 a few times does. As I struggled with the toilet paper in my half-awake state, I finally figured out that it was a new roll and had to be pulled apart, but Tom had put it on UNDER instead of OVER. “This is JUST WRONG,” I muttered. Then I thought that I should learn to be more flexible, so I left it as it was. All day long, it made me twitch to know the toilet paper was under. Finally, Tuesday night, I bragged to Tom that I’d stayed strong. The toilet paper was still hanging under. Whereupon he said, “Then I’M changing it. I didn’t know I put it on that way, and it’s JUST WRONG.” This is why marriages endure.

Also Tuesday, I exchanged several e-mails with Tom’s mother. She was sharing details of a trip she’s taking soon, and she mentioned that her parents are partially paying for this vacation. Since her father died in 1963 and her mother died in 1981, naturally I was all, ¿por qué (it was Cinco de Mayo, after all). As it turns out, a relative told her that her name was on a “missing money” list in her home state. It seems her parents had those old nickel-a-month insurance policies to benefit each of their kids if the parents died, and after all these years, Tom’s mother claimed her money and got a check. How cool is that?

On a whim, I entered my name into the national missing money data base and got nothing. Tom, on the other hand, will be getting a check for almost TWENTY DOLLARS that a business apparently overcharged him in the past. He said he’ll use this windfall to see the new Star Trek movie. It’ll take every penny, as I found out the last time I treated myself to a movie (Confessions of a Shopaholic–cute; love the books, but should’ve waited for the DVD. But I was hot that night and needed a diversion in a cool theater). Date night must really hit the wallets of teenagers’ parents. Yikes!

Finally, I leave you with this list I found called “Bad Songs By Good Bands.” Feel free to comment with outrage or applause.

20. “Rapture,” Blondie
19. “Who Are You?” The Who
18. “Stand,” R.E.M.
17. “November Rain,” Guns N’ Roses
16. “Beverly Hills,” Weezer
15. “I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing,” Aerosmith
14. “Just Can’t Get Enough,” Depeche Mode
13. “Rape Me,” Nirvana
12. “50 Ways to Leave Your Lover,” Paul Simon
11. “Bullet With Butterfly Wings,” Smashing Pumpkins
10. “Roses,” Outkast
9. “I’ll Be You,” The Replacements
8. “Beth,” Kiss
7. “Brass Monkey,” Beastie Boys
6. “Discotheque,” U2
5. “Dancing in the Dark,” Bruce Springsteen
4. “American Life,” Madonna
3. “Kokomo,” Beach Boys
2. “Radio Ga Ga,” Queen
1. “Should I Stay or Should I Go,” The Clash

Crafty!

As many of you know, my 200-plus members of the Barbie family are individually wrapped in tissue and stored in my attic. This is because I’m not Anne Rice and can’t afford to buy and restore an old orphanage to house and exhibit my doll collection. On the day that I can purchase such a place, if it’s anything like St. Elizabeth’s, I’m moving in first. The dolls and I will then negotiate.

In the meantime, I need to keep some of my dolls at hand. By all accounts, the dispute over Project Runway has been settled, and the most recent season will finally air this summer on Lifetime. I don’t know if Mark G. Harris, Timothy J. Lambert, or anyone else will be interested in doing PR’s weekly design challenges for the Mattel Top Models. Even if we don’t, I still enjoy designing for special events (the Oscars) and holidays. But the dolls and everything they need were overunning my office and cluttering the Spoil Debby and Sometimes Lisa Guest Suite.

I needed a more organized solution. Lindsey and I were shopping in Texas Art Supply one day when we found a wonderful kit for youngsters who might be interested in sewing and designing for dolls. I didn’t get the kit, but it did inspire a PROJECT.

After some shopping around, I found this cabinet, deeply discounted, at Michael’s:

It’s divided into three cubes:

And then what happened?

Some things may be better left in the past

Forever I’ve been intending to do a post about Facebook and the surreal nature of connecting with people from the past. This is not that post. This is a post which proves that you really can find anything on the Internet.

For some reason, I was remembering a 45-record giveaway from Lays Potato Chips. Or some potato chip company; maybe it wasn’t Frito-Lay. HOWEVER, I remember Debby and I putting the 45 on the record player back when we were sweet young things, then she, our mother, and I stared at each other open-mouthed. One of us finally said, WHAT THE HELL IS THAT? Then we laughed until we cried, and it became, forever after, our standard of crazy ass music.

What the hell that was was the Legendary Stardust Cowboy, and damn if he doesn’t have a Wikipedia entry, a web site, a MySpace account, and YouTube clips. Because I adore all of you who read here, I won’t link you to any of that, even though David Bowie HIMSELF says he took the name for Ziggy Stardust from the obscure Legendary Stardust Cowboy. The Ledge, as he’s called, reminds me that just as is true of writers, there’s always somebody who’ll like what you do. You just have to find your audience.

Today, we are bombing The Compound residences for fleas. Tim dropped the hounds at the “spa” for a day of grooming on his way to cater to the whims of Boss Lady Hanley. I set up a temporary office in the garage while Tom set off the flea bombs. Then he picked up some breakfast for me on his way to work. Benefit of being in the garage: I’m enjoying the lulling sound of the dryer while I wash all the dog bedding. I have my coffee, my green tea, my computer, and a Julie Smith mystery. Later, I may walk to Starbucks because the air is nice and cool.

Not a bad life, I think. I hope the Ledge is having a good day, too.

Button Sunday

This morning I was trying to select a button for Button Sunday when Tim called and said his chest tubes were out and if his X-ray was good, he’d be released from the hospital. Buttons forgotten, I jumped in the shower, rescued him from the hospital, then we filled his prescription and picked up some lunch. After eating, I proceeded to “nap” for almost four hours, secure in the knowledge that Tim was within Compound security, guarded over by Rex.

Tonight, Tom picked up dinner for us (Tim finally got his Barnabys salad!), and we watched the first episode of this season’s Survivor and the first two of seven Y&R episodes we’ve missed. (Now that he’s a Bradsicle, the show provided lots of flashbacks of the bare-chested Don Diamont when he first joined the soap in the 1980s.)

In all the excitement, I forgot that I never gave you a button. Let me restore order to your existence.

State of The Compound

LJ has been so quiet. Maybe it’s because everyone is on Facebook trying to say twenty-five new things about themselves. If you want to friend me or read my LJ through FB, just let me know. Same with following me on Twitter. Comment here or do the becky(at)beckycochrane.com e-mail thing and we’ll connect.

Speaking of the e-mail thing, in the days before Tim and I set up accounts and web sites for me, I used to get e-mail at his account. I haven’t used that address for so long that I forget to check it. Unfortunately, several people or businesses still use it, and thus did I miss a signing that I really wanted to go to on January 17. More details later when I pick up the actual book I’d planned to buy.

Today, Tom, Tim, and I–no doubt preparing for our upcoming visit from Endora Joan–cleaned all the windows inside and out. They’re not perfect, but they’re much better–they still had a lot of the dust kicked up by Hurricane Ike on them. He just NEVER LEAVES, that Ike.

Then tonight, I asked Tim if he’d color my roots. They are–I don’t know–some color people call gray or something. I can’t be bothered with those details. While he was doing it, he said that thing you never want to hear from your dentist, gynecologist, or hairdresser–WHAT THE HELL IS THAT? After my heart rate dropped back down to 100 or so, he realized the brush he was using had a little of HIS color on it–as in BLUE. I was almost one of the cool kids! But since he caught it, my hair’s a sedate brownish/reddish color again. (Note to Tim: It looks good. Thank you!)

Ah, the Boss just began playing on my iTunes. That’s the only part of the Superbowl I watched, though I did catch a couple of the commercials later. Somehow, I ended up reading people’s comments on the halftime show. You know, I want to know all these critics and naysayers who could kick ass on stage like Bruce or Madonna when they’re in their fifties. Because frankly, I couldn’t have done what they do in my freaking twenties.

This is why I shouldn’t read comments on news and entertainment stories. I told Marika the other night that I think they should just shut down that whole comment function since people are so very, very brave and perfect and superior when they’re sitting at a monitor and no one can see them. I’m betting they don’t have blue hair, either.

Happy Martin Luther King Jr. Day

I’m a little late with wishes for the day. I was busy witnessing some of the best and worst behaviors of humans as I went about my errands over the past few hours.

That seems appropriate, actually. The halting progress of civil rights in our nation showed us at our best and worst. This year, the day seems more poignant because tomorrow our first black president will take his oath of office. For me, it feels like a milestone when we should stop looking back and start looking forward. And when I say that, I include my fervent readiness to shake the last eight years out of my brain and move toward a better future for all of us.

In the meanwhile, I’m on a bit of a cleansing mission. There are so many nagging duties I’ve gotten out of the way over the past month–financial, physical, emotional–and I’ve decided to detox my body. I’ve upped the water intake, added twenty daily ounces of green tea and about eight ounces of orange juice a day, and I’m going to omit meat for a few days. This really isn’t a hardship for me, as I’m a passionate raw and cooked veggie lover, but I don’t want to deny The Compound menfolk any culinary pleasures. Some nights I’ll probably cook two different meals.

But for tonight, they’re my guinea pigs. I’ve created something. I don’t know if it’s a pie or a quiche or what. Leeks sweated down in butter, nestled among thinly sliced potatoes, with a milk/egg mixture lightly flavored with nutmeg, salt, and pepper, poured into a crust, then topped with the thinnest layer of grated Gruyère cheese. It’s baking now, too late for me to throw in the garlic I’m wondering about. I sort of adapted the recipe from several I found online. It’s an adventure!

Also, because I know Lindsey’s going to care, here’s a photo of some things I picked up today.


Tools for cooking and for wrangling logs!

My baby heater that I keep in my office sparked and hissed at me today. It was very dramatic, and I don’t do drama, so into the trash it went. Even though Mercury’s retrograde, I got a new one, because as long as I can keep my feet warm, I can keep the thermostat down in my house.

Finally, in the category of entertainment, I’ve made this confession to my family and a few close friends, but now I think you all should know. There was a time I mocked Tori Spelling with the best of them. But having recently finished this book:

I’m totally in like with her. So I’m really excited that Tim just found this for us to indulge in:

Me, Tori, and popcorn. Sounds like a great way to spend an evening. If my cooking improv doesn’t kill us.