shocked

I don't see a lot of television commercials, thanks to TiVo. But I was home sick today and sleeping/draining on the couch all day long, when I came across this commercial. I've watched it 4-5 times now, and I laugh as hard every single time.



Now to bed to rid myself of the rest of this bug.

dear alex lambert

Dear Alex,

You are young. And yes, your lack of on-stage experience highlighted your nervousness while performing on TV for millions and millions of people. For the inexplicable and often illogical voting audience, that shaky inexperience did not endear you.

Pity. Because you have a unique and wonderful voice, and a talent that is undeniable even under the burden of stage fright. Please don't allow last week's vote to alter your musical career path. We need musicians like you. If you don't come back to AI next year, then please keep pursuing the path through other means. I look forward to someday having in my music library the musical stylings of Alex Lambert.

Sincerely,
Kelly

P.S. Your talent is spot-on, but that hairstyle must go. Either grow it all long or cut it all off. The half-and-half baby mullet ain't workin'. :-)

so long, jonathan garvey

When Ted and I first started talking online -- before the introduction of pictures or even a written description of physical appearance -- he asked me what kind of man I was attracted to. That's a tough question because I've found a variety of men attractive to some degree. But the truth is, I do have a "type." To demonstrate this type to him, I named three.

* Grizzly Adams

* John Goodman

* Merlin Olsen

OK, so Grizzly was a character. I wasn't sure if Ted would know the name Dan Haggerty. John Goodman was current at the time because "Roseanne" was still on the air, plus he was making movies regularly. Merlin? Ted wondered had he found a football fan in me? Um, no. That would be "Little House on the Prairie" talking. Oh, they didn't come any sweeter, nicer, and handsomer than Jonathan Garvey. And from everything I've read, the same was true of the man playing the part.

R.I.P. Mr. Olsen.

one would think

One would think that without television, progress might be made in other areas. One would be wrong; primarily because television isn't the distraction. It's this crazy thing called the internet.

That said, there are evenings when I'll watch an hour or two of TV. That hasn't been possible since the lights went out on Friday. Despite the extra time, I have not immersed myself in the attempt to write some real, perhaps even mildly interesting, blog entry. And now, in an effort to get more sleep to aid in my recovery, there's no time left at all.

So with that, I leave you with this nice photo of the 2008 Jaguar XKR. Purdy, ain't it?

carried away

I nearly forgot to blog tonight, so busy was I reading a book and searching online for a lamp replacement for our projection TV. OK, so I hadn't planned on reading a book. I really wanted to hunker down on this brutally cold evening with an afghan and a few cats to watch a movie or two. But the burnt out bulb in the TV ended that pipe dream (although I did still have afghan and cats while reading).

We ignored the "replace lamp" warning for a couple weeks. The picture started getting a little darker and a little less clear. When it exploded last night, we could ignore it no longer. Ted searched around town today, and was stunned to find out that this bulb, uh, I mean lamp assembly costs about the same as a Toshiba 26" flat panel LCD TV with a built-it DVD player. But a mere couple feet can't replace the 10' behemoth that we call television. So, I shopped around online, found a more reasonably priced lamp assembly, and it will arrive early next week. Until then, we go without. Or we finally get around to setting up the little TV in the bedroom. I vote for [A] because I really like having a television-free bedroom.

Time for bed. Need to see if I can get the blast furnace to actually shut off for a little while. It's so windy and cold that it's been running all evening. Gmail's got it wrong again, by the way. It may be clear, but at 11:30pm at night, it's just not sunny.

day 7: time to stop counting

It's been a wild and woolly day. The last couple hours were occupied on a very important phone call, which only ended because my cell battery experienced massive failure (sorry Rina!). I have no new picture to share, no real idea of even the fluffiest of topics to discuss, and no time to flesh them out anyway. Just a minor decision. Today will be the last day I number the blog titles. After one week, I'm feeling more confident that they'll be more regular than last year.

And with that, an easy distraction and fare-thee-well.



Good night.

eleventh hour

In the past, I've blogged extensively about American Idol. Just last week, I mentioned that I'd avoided discussing the show at all this season (in this blog, that is) or even casting a single vote -- despite having watched every single episode and definitely having opinions on the contestants.

So, if I tell you today that two months ago I predicted a top two consisting of David Archuleta and David Cook, you could go, "oh yeah, sure you did, Kelly," because I have no concrete, public evidence to back it up. You'll just have to trust me.

We generally watch the show one day late, courtesy of TiVo and a bizarre life schedule. This is half the reason I didn't vote this year: I was always too late. Given how hard it was to avoid next day spoilers throughout the season, I thought it best to watch the final results show on the night of the actual finale (i.e. tonight).

Ted and I watched Tuesday's show first. We had a discussion as to who we thought would win and who we hoped would win. Again, I have no proof to back this up, but we generally agreed that Mr. Cook would likely win for two reasons, one valid and one a bit stupid. Before explaining those two reasons, it must first be said that they are based on the premise that both Davids are talented and equally deserving of a win even though their styles differ significantly.

• Reason #1: Because 25-year-old Mr. Cook shows more confidence, polish, and willingness to take risks (that usually succeed) in his performances than young Mr. Archuleta.
  
  
• Reason #2: Because Chris Daughtry didn't win in Season 5. Seriously. Like the Academy Awards giving an Oscar to a great director for a mediocre movie: because they failed to appropriately acknowledge a superior achievement the first time around. Get it?

Anyway, we watched the show and, although David A. certainly brought his game and was, as Randy Jackson says, "in it to win it," our opinion that David C. would win remained intact.

So, Ted heads off to bed (you know, up before the freakin' crack of dawn), and I install Firefox* on my computer and poke around for a bit. I decide around 9:30pm to start watching the results show (using the TV Ears so as not to disturb my sleeping husband). This will allow me to fast forward through all the commercials (although I did manage to catch the Guitar Hero one with D.A. in it).

I watch nearly all of the show, fast forwarding only through one or two bits I couldn't quite tolerate. I wonder how Syesha gets to be so lucky as to sing with Seal. I feel for Amanda who looks hacked off to be singing Donna Summer songs and stepping along to cheesy choreography. I puzzle over the presence of ZZ Top, even though David Cook completely pulls off "Sharp Dressed Man." I stare intently at Bryan Adams, examining the rugged terrain of his face. I'm impressed by Carrie Underwood's stage presence and fabulous outfit.

The end nears, and the Top 12 are group-singing "Faith" -- a catchy pop song of the highest order from my neck of the woods (i.e. the 80s). As soon as they segue into "Father Figure," a grin of anticipation takes over my face as the apparently slow realization dawns on me that George Michael is going to show up any minute now. Say what you will about tabloid scandals and professional absences, outsized talent such as his more than compensates for personal peccadilloes (this is true for other entertainers I admire like Robert Downey, Jr., who also appeared on the show).

George descends the stage stairs and sings "Praying For Time." Aside from a case of the sniffles and sunglasses that should only be found on the face of a 70-year old woman, I found his performance riveting. Entrenched in nearly two hours of fanfare and this last number, I find myself eagerly thrust into the final results!

The official Official hands Ryan an envelope. There is visible anxiety and talk of nearly a hundred million votes. He opens the envelope, and says...

"The winner of American Idol 2008 is..."

Dramatic pause.

"David..."

Dramatic pause.

DING!

The recording is over, and TiVo wants to know if it should delete the show. In the span of a mere moment, I process the following facts:

• TiVo sometimes misses the end of a show because it's run longer than scheduled. This is not an uncommon occurrence.
  
• I specifically made it a point to watch this show tonight so I would know who won.
  
• If the two finalists didn't have the same first name, and if Mr. Seacrest didn't have a flair for dramatic pauses, I might have actually known who won without seeing the end of the show.

Data entered and processed, I start laughing hysterically. Uncontrollably, actually. I try to be quiet so as not to awaken Ted. I fail. After muttering through the fog of sleep, asking what happened, he too begins to laugh at the situation. This only encourages me more. I laugh harder. And louder. And tears start to fall as my sides literally start to hurt. This went on for ten minutes. I couldn't stop. After all that effort, and I still didn't know who won!

Reason enough to blog. Now, I've spent far too much time here, digging up links and graphics, and fighting with Firefox. It crashed once while mid-Blogger. Hopefully it's not indicative of the type of behavior I'll get from it. If so, I'll hitch a ride back to the IE Express.

Time to go to bed. Argh. 1:50am! Good night. And congratulations, David Cook. ROTFLMAO

* To my reader(s) viewing this site on Firefox, my apologies. I had no idea that some of the graphics are blocky and overlapping in spots. Believe me when I say it always looked fine in IE, or I would have changed it to look fine. Now, if I continue using Firefox, I'll have to check both places, and hope that I'm capable of fixing it!

crushed

I once liked Peter Walsh. I watched TLC's Clean Sweep regularly and fantasized about Peter bringing in a massive team of helpers who would spend two days throwing away stuff, having yard sales, and redecorating my newly clutter-free home. I loved his no-nonsense approach to the things a person really needs and wants and loves versus the things that the person somehow accumulates.

In the last season that I watched (I stopped watching about a year ago), it got super-schmaltzy, though. They reconfigured the show's focus. Suddenly, Peter was spending an extraordinary amount of time prodding the homeowners to tears and then philosophizing about their emotional clutter while cheesy music played softly in the background. Whatever. I still thought the whole clean-up process would be cool.

So Mr. Walsh had dropped off my radar for a little while because I stopped watching Clean Sweep. But then, he somehow finagled himself into becoming one of Oprah's gurus. And despite my ongoing love/hate relationship with Oprah, I do still TiVo/watch her show (though I will occasionally delete an episode immediately if it leans toward the 'hate' side of the scale). I've seen a couple Oprah shows with Peter that were fun and fine. But the most recent one took home organization into a whole new direction -- weight loss!

Seriously, he's written a book proclaiming that cleaning your house will lead to weight loss (because the clutter prevents you from having healthy eating and exercising habits, doncha' know). As if that whole concept weren't enough to choke on, in this particular episode, he literally put a family on a line of scales and weighed them on national TV.

Now, I don't have a problem with adults who wants to flog themselves in public. But I take particular issue -- for any of about a thousand reasons -- with the fact that two of the family members were children.

First, those children did not ask to be a part of such an outrageous stunt.

Second, until about the age of 20, children grow. It's that simple. They're supposed to grow. They morph through all sorts of shapes and sizes in that time. It's important to note few things about all that growing. [A] A fat child can be healthy and active in exactly the same way as any child. [B] A fat child does not necessarily become a fat adult. [C] Even if a fat child becomes a fat adult, he or she can be healthy and active in exactly the same way as any adult, because... [D] Some people are just genetically designed to be larger than others. Period. No matter what the diet industry tries to tell you.

Third, these children are already taunted by their peers (and the media, and the general public, and sometimes even their own families) because of their size. Standing in front of a group of 30 classmates getting weighed in the school gym is enough to pulverize self-esteem and cause life-long emotional scars. But on this day, Peter Walsh increased the audience a million-fold for that torture.

Clearly, this is a man who doesn't understand some very basic tenets.

[A] It is possible to be simultaneously fit and fat.

[B] Dieting doesn't work.

[C] Humiliation is not motivation.

[D] ...

[E] ...

[F] ...

[G] ...
[H] ...
[I] ...
[J] ...
[K] ...
[L] ...
[M] ...
[N] ...
[O] ...
[P] ...
[Q,R,S,T,U,V,W,X,Y,Z]...

You get the idea. I'm not articulating well tonight. Please, please, please read Junkfood Science. Read this post in particular. Visit the sites listed in the "size" section on the right side of this blog. Plus "Fat Girl on a Bike," "Fat Rant," and "She Dances on the Sand."

Heck, sign up for the content feed from "Notes from the Fatosphere." Read up, my friends. I know the world tries to convince us that fat=bad. I'm here to tell you (badly) that it's not always the case.

That was my painfully ineloquent way of saying my flame for Peter Walsh is officially extinguished. And my disappointment in Oprah continues to grow.

community and family

I have loved Extreme Makeover: Home Edition from the first episode. I admit, it was my obsession with Trading Spaces that brought me to it in the first place. That said, I've been hooked ever since (and not just because Ty Pennington regularly unbuttons or removes his shirt!). Tonight's episode featured the Voisine family in New Hampshire, and so I was vested a bit more for a couple reasons.

First, Granite State pride! Second, a family who lives next door to my brother was nominated and was one of the final few families to be considered. Third, my niece, Caitlin, was one of the blue-shirted volunteers who helped with the project last fall.

In addition to watching the show itself, the local ABC affiliate created a one hour special called "Extreme Makeover: New Hampshire Builds a Dream." It highlighted the community angle, and was very interesting to watch. The actual EM:HE show was two hours long. All in all, it was wonderful to watch and left me needing only one thing (c'mon, click the link!).

On another note, I visited my parents earlier today. A long-time friend of theirs had mailed them some stuff she uncovered while organizing a few decades of recreation-related memorabilia. In addition to three pictures of my parents from 1974 (nice tie, Dad!), there was an editorial from my hometown newspaper. It is dated July 25, 1963. This may bore you to tears, but I am fascinated. So I shall transcribe.

"Man With a Challenge" by Dan A. O'Connell (Editor)

Gerald Cox, 29, earnest and affable, college-trained in the new but necessary skill of Recreation Director, arrived this week to take charge of our town's recreational needs on a full-time basis. It would be the understatement of the year to say merely that the job offers a tremendous challenge. The new Director undoubtedly knows all the basic theories, concepts, and techniques of this pioneer science. He has the advantage of practical experience in the field and has compiled an impressive record of accomplishment in other places. His future here looks good, but unless the people of this community are prepared to pitch in and help, the young man and his program are certain to come a-cropper.

Ours is a progressive town, aware of tremendous change in the making, and conscious of a need to adjust with the times to survive their impact. This awareness and consciousness has been evident for several years. Almost everyone agreed that "something should be done," but nothing ever was, mainly because no one seemed to know exactly what, when, where or how. The problem came to a head this year when people woke up to the fact that so-called juvenile delinquency spawns on adult neglect and community callousness. As a result, the annual Town Meeting in March faced up to the problem, created a Recreation Commission and authorized the employment of a qualified, full-time Recreation Director.

Although the Town Meeting action was unanimous, it should not be assumed that everyone in town has "seen the light" or goes along with the proposition, regardless of the recorded unanimity. Beneath the facade of Twentieth Century trappings and adornment, the town remains an old-fashioned New England community, fiercely and ruggedly individualistic, with inherent distrust of governmental intrusions of its early American way of life. Considerable "selling" of the need to bend with the times, when survival is of the essence, remains to be done. Young Mr. Cox has been given the ball and will be expected to streak down the field to a series of impressive touchdowns. He is on his own and will be required to make the runs without a protective wall of interference. We who wish him well can only shout encouragement from the sidelines and try to set in proper perspective the comment of curbstone quarter-backs.

It would be doing the young man no favor at this stage of the game to promise him clear sailing ahead and no hidden shoals to wreck his programs and shatter his dreams. The plain fact of the matter is that Directed Recreation Programs and Supervised Facilities have long been considered new-fangled hokum by many good citizens who persist in living in the past and refuse to believe that the wide open spaces of youth no longer exist, or are rapidly disappearing under the impact of expanding "metropolitanism." They belong to generations which have accepted and enjoyed the pleasures of modern living without considering the price that youngsters and generations unborn will have to pay. It is only human nature to assume that the whole world revolves about one's own axis. The selfishness is instinctive and unwitting.

There is a great deal of misunderstanding and misconception about the business of Directed Recreation, a terrible inclination to dismiss it as "coddling" or boondoggling" or "time-passing." Nothing could be farther from the truth! A dynamic and intelligent program of directed and supervised recreation for all ages is not a luxury or a convenience, but a civic necessity. There is much more to Gerald Cox's new job than supervising youthful athletics, encouraging arts and crafts, or baby-sitting while children play. He will be responsible for seeing that tragic mistakes do not recur in the future. Our generation is harassed by the spectacle of youngsters playing in the streets because a callous older generation has taken away their pasture playgrounds to turn a fast buck. Civilization is cursed by teen-agers loafing on street-corners because society gives them nowhere else to go and nothing else to do.

Young Mr. Cox has a man-sized job staring him in the face, and a good place to start is at the beginning. He should take immediate steps to prevent a bad situation from coming immeasurably worse by having a heart-to-heart talk with the Planning and Zoning authorities. It is not enough that new real estate sub-divisions be required to provide adequate road, water, and sewerage facilities: there should be sufficient land set aside for playground areas to keep the kids off the street in an age of increasing transport speed. Next, he should try to conserve and improve and expand the playground and park area still extant in our town. They certainly do not inspire civic pride at the present time. He cannot insist, but he should suggest that the uncommitted sector of the Alexander Estate be preserved, as the good Doctor wished, for recreation, not speculation.

But, enough of telling young Mr. Cox what he should do. Even more important than a good idea in a typical New England town is the psychology of convincing people to go along. The people of this town are not Hicks and Yokels, but highly intelligent and surprisingly well read, far more so than their city slicker cousins. They resent being fast-talked, high pressured, or peddled a bill of goods. They are set in their ways, but not obstinate, and like Abraham Lincoln, will do the right as God gives them to see the right. Don't try to talk above them, or at them, but to them, man-to-man. Do this, Mr. Cox, and you'll do okay! Do otherwise, and you're a dead duck!

Many bright young brains, in the course of history, have come to town with the idea of re-making it in their own image, only to fall on their faces, and crawl away into oblivion. Many of them had good ideas, but the wrong approach. We are New Englanders and New Hampshiremen; we don't want to be made over; we relish ourselves the way God made us! All we ask of Mr. Cox or anyone is to help make us better and help us better utilize the facilities and natural wealth with which Divine Providence has endowed us. If Mr. Cox dedicates himself exclusively to doing his job well, he can certainly count on the cooperation and support of the vast majority of our townspeople. Nice to have you aboard, "Gerry"... and Good Luck!

Post-script.

My Dad was the town's Parks and Recreation Director for 28 years until his retirement. In that time, he created, implemented, and oversaw countless recreational and athletic programs, led the conversion of an old school into a community center, built a permanent staff of full-time, part-time, and volunteer recreation staff, and lobbied long and hard (and usually successfully) to save and create parks. It was he who protected the Alexander Estate mentioned in this article. That land is the ski hill I mentioned last week. My Dad rocks.

if meme roth were dead...

... she'd be rolling over in her grave. If she thinks Jordin Sparks is a bad example, just check out these four fabulous women.

keyword search

The majority of visitors who have viewed my blog today arrived by way of a search for some variation of these words:

* Blake
* wipes / dries
* LaKisha's
* tears

Ted thought I was silly when I noticed, but clearly I wasn't the only one. I even found a picture. So, for those who are looking for juicy details, you won't find any here. Just the picture.

conflicted

Here are some things that I've thought about in the past few days, any of which I could write up in detail were I capable of allowing it to stand apart from the pack. Alas, they all mix together in a confusing and perplexing manner.

1. Virginia Tech massacre. There is nothing I can say about this without merely repeating all the sentiments of horror and disbelief being broadcast by every medium in America. The high school where two of my nephews and one of my nieces attend was locked down yesterday because of a bomb threat. Scary, scary. And so very sad.

2. Everest: Beyond the Limit. I just spent three days watching this series, which we TiVo'd last year, and have been dreaming about it every night. I came to two conclusions about these climbers: [1] They are all insane, and [2] If they survive any portion of the attempt, whether or not they summit, they are among the toughest people on earth. Still insane, but tough.

3. Planet Earth. Another riveting series (no, I don't just watch TV).

4. Hygiene, etc... . I no longer use any post-shampoo product (conditioner, mousse, hairspray) and do not blow dry my hair. I only apply make-up if I'm meeting someone I know. If I do not need to go out of the house for the day, I also save showering (but only for one day, never for two). I will not get my hair cut or colored until it's time to start interviewing. I am also only wearing my casual clothes (see next point), so as not to increase any wear and tear on my "professional" wardrobe. This may be mildly useless, as I hope to procure a new wardrobe before I re-enter the work force.

5. My recent housewife-ish day. I met a friend for lunch, then went to the grocery store, Costco, the post office, gas station, and Trader Joe's. I did household chores, cooked dinner, cleaned up afterwards, and spent a lovely evening with my husband. I was a marvel of domesticity. I went out in public wearing a sun dress and keds, but the chilly air required more so I threw on my suede jacket. I thought it was a weird combination, until I saw a woman at Stop & Shop wearing lounge pants and a fur coat.

6. Food fight. It's hard finding anything with less than 140 milligrams of sodium per serving. Go ahead, try it. Look at every box, bag, or can in your pantry, fridge, and freezer, and tell me how many you find. And I'm not even talking bout "bad" food. Try finding spaghetti sauce, cottage cheese, deli meat, or soup. "Reduced sodium" in Campbell's world means 660 mg. per serving (because regular soup has 900 mg.).

7. Christmas gifts. I have procured my first eight Christmas gifts and approximately 20 stocking stuffers. Only 251 days 'til Christmas.

8. House dreams. There is a house for sale I can't stop thinking about, even though its asbestos roof needs to be replaced, along with every single drafty, 80-year old window (about 42 of them, if I'm counting correctly). I want to live in this house. Oh yeah, and we both need new jobs as this house is approximately 200 miles from our current location. Minor detail.

9. Sanjaya was finally voted off last night. It was just wrong that LaKisha and Blake were in the bottom three. Interestingly, they seemed to be very close -- first holding hands while center stage awaiting the ejection, which didn't seem out of the ordinary (other than the fact that LaKisha was not also holding Sanjaya's hand), until we saw Blake wiping away LaKisha's tears while Sanjaya sang his goodbye. Isn't it interesting how a quick camera shot here or there can create an impression all its own, even if it's not the right one?

10. Our cats are incredibly cute. Recent evidence includes Woodle's routine of snuggling up against my bed pillows mid-morning and staying there all day long, the tuxedos performing simultaneous head baths, and Sadie randomly waking from her naps to chirp a request to be petted.

11. It's way too late for me to be up and rambling about the juxtapositions in life. Good night.

Song: "Seven Days" by Sting
Reading Material: "The Audacity of Hope" by Barack Obama
Other: See above list

napkin notes

Not getting to this until 11:30pm, and don't want to take 90 minutes to compose. So just using incredibly terse scribblings to update. Not even going to use pronouns. Ha. British Invasion night with Peter Noone and Lulu.

1. Haley. Ppppbbbbbbttttt.

2. Chris R. Very good job, showing restraint and singing talent on "Don't Let the Sun Catch You Crying."

3. Stephanie. Flat in spots, generally shaky. Hugely frustrating because I know she's talented. First time I haven't loved the dress, but I did love the jewelry.

4. Blake. Excellent. "Time of the Season" the perfect song for him to show off both singing and beatboxing talent. Finally judges agreed.

5. LaKisha. Excellent as always. Very pretty dress, and love the million dollars in diamonds. But the song "Diamonds are Forever" did nothing for me.

6. Phil. "Tobacco Road." Good grief. Pppbbbbbtttttt.

7. Jordin. Nose gets closer to LaKisha's and Melinda's noses every week. Never heard "I Who Have Nothing" before tonight, but she did it justice.

8. Sanjaya. Remember how I said Sundance Head should NEVER had attempted to sing Pearl Jam? Multiply that sentiment by a gazillion, and you have Sanjaya singing the Kinks' song "You Really Got Me." The only thing that prevented it from slipping into blasphemy territory was the sheer amount of fun he had singing it.

9. Gina. "Paint it Black" was the perfect song choice for her, but Simon said it best: "style over content."

10. Chris S. Another impeccable song choice in "She's Not There." Wasn't keen on the walking-through-the-audience bit, but overall another good performance.

11. Melinda. Perfect. You'll note I didn't merely say "Excellent." She surpasses most all of the rest with ease and grace. As much as I love LaKisha and am rooting for Blake and Chris Sligh, I still think Melinda takes home the prize.

Miscellaneous Note. Who is Ashley, and why did every single minute of the 2-hour show make her cry?

Synopsis. Nothing changed my overall opinions tonight.

Phew! That entry only took 14 minutes. Unfortunately, it's painfully apparent. I have to find a happy medium! 'Night.

"Still Remains" by Stone Temple Pilots from one of my favorite albums of the 90s. I spent most of Summer '94 listening to this CD. At the time, I'd just begun working for the company where I've now been for 13 years. Our office was in Kirkland, WA, which on the eastern shore of Lake Washington, across from Seattle. Lots of nice parks to which I escaped for lunch and STP-listening.

a.i. weirdness

There were more than a few bizarre moments on 'American Idol' tonight (or as Ryan Seacrest calls it, "A-MER-ican Idol"). At times, it just seems like an alternate reality show (ha! I made that up! I'm so clever!). There is a very distinct line between amateurs who want to be stars, and small-time professionals who just needed a launching pad to a national audience. Then there's stuff in between the two.

Now that it's down to the Top 12, my recap will be complete. Alphabetically (how diplomatic). Photos included indicates a Top 5 Kelly Choice (not diplomatic). Diana Ross night.

Blake Lewis

Except for a few rough edges that may be attributed to his amateur status, Blake knows himself and his style, and he's true to them both. His singing voice is good, although sometimes it is under-emphasized in comparison to everything else going on (beatboxing, fancy footwork, etc.). I think he did a fine job of arranging "You Keep Me Hanging On" to fit his style, even if it rubbed the judges the wrong way. Blake gets a vote tonight.

Brandon Rogers
It's disappointing that I don't like Brandon as much now as in the audition process. Clearly, he has talent. I mean, he's a professional backup singer. But week after week, he's been, well, weak. Tonight's version of the always fabulous song, "You Can't Hurry Love," was just... you know, weak. Such a waste.

Chris Richardson
I have liked Chris despite (or perhaps because of) his obvious desire to be the doppelganger of a certain boy band veteran named after woods and water. Tonight, his Justinian falsetto aerobics and trills were just confusing, and his choice of song ("The Boss") was downright puzzling. C'mon, it's Diana Ross. Surely you could have picked a better song!

Chris Sligh

Again, a contestant creates a unique arrangement, and it completely tweaks the judges. I don't know why. I think Chris has come the closest to taking a contrived situation ("Everyone sing Gregorian chant, regardless of your strengths") and making it work for his particular style. [Chris Daughtry was particularly good at this last year.] If the judges would have gotten over their personal dislike of the arrangement, I think they would have found his vocals to be as strong as all his previous performances.

Gina Glocksen
I like Gina. Really, I do. She's a much better singer than I am. That said, I'm an absolutely terrible singer. She did OK tonight, but I can't see her making it more than a few more weeks (and only that long to allow for the worst to be voted off first). It cracked me up when Paula told her that "Love Child" should be a fun, upbeat song. Um, Paula, have you ever listened to that song?

Haley Scarnato
Poor Haley. She's beautiful (although tonight's pumpkin-shaped, eggplant-colored, hip-banded, baby doll dress was a nightmare). Unfortunately for her, no matter how important it is for pop singers to be pretty, they also have to possess a certain degree of talent. I felt bad for her because she knew that she had botched it up but good (although that post-singing performance was a bit hammy). Her departure from the show this week would be the only acceptable reason for Sanjaya making it through again. Bye, bye Haley.

Jordin Sparks

Jordin has her ups and downs, all of which (I believe) can be attributed to her youth. Through it all, she has a very strong voice and, in the right circumstances, has let it roar. Tonight, she roared. The song (some obscure piece from the movie "Land Before Time") sounded remarkably like a Vanessa-Williams-sings-Disney bit, but she completely pulled it off. If she can sing like this more often, she could make it a long way toward the prize. Just no more sappy songs!

LaKisha Jones

I haven't been shy in my praise for Ms. Jones. Tonight is different only to assert that she is clearly separate-from-but-equal-to Melinda Doolittle, to whom I'd given a slight edge to first place last week. LaKisha (or Kiki, as Diana Ross presumptuously called her) was stunning, running slightly afoul of the A.I. rules by singing the Billie Holliday song, "God Bless the Child" (she got away with it because Diana Ross covered the song for the movie "Lady Sings the Blues."). If she doesn't win the crown, she'll have no trouble finding a recording contract of her own -- probably from 19 Records.

Melinda Doolittle

Well, we all know how I feel about Melinda, don't we? Tonight did nothing to change my opinion of her. She took a song I would otherwise have thought nothing about ("Home" from the movie, "The Wiz"), and made me interested in it. She is just that good. She's a pro, and unlike Brandon, she has been completely up to the challenge of stepping into the spotlight. Going out on a (very strong) limb, and saying that the Top 2 will be Melinda and LaKisha.

Phil Stacey
You know, I haven't really been that excited about Phil all along. In my opinion, bald doesn't work for him. But let's focus on the singing. What I've seen is a guy who gets utterly lost at the beginning of a song (particularly in the lower range), and then strengthens only when the chorus swells. Tonight, he was able to bring most of that strength to almost the entire song, although he does tend to get LOUD when he gets strong.

Sanjaya Malakar
Heavy sigh. Yes, he's adorable. As Diana Ross said, "he is love." OK, we get it. The sweet 17-year old has a heart of gold. Remember how he cried when he made it onto the finals and his sister didn't? Awww. Sweet. However, 'sweet' didn't help him reach the peaks of "Ain't No Mountain High Enough." He tried too hard and still didn't get anywhere close to the power and emotional impact that song almost innately carries. And someone needs to tell him to be more assertive when the stylists walk toward him -- grinning maniacally -- with hair irons in their hands. Run away!

Stephanie Edwards
Stephanie, Stephanie, Stephanie. Early on in the Top 24, she was among my favorites. And I still think that she's got talent. But she doesn't do herself any favors with song choice. A disco Diana Ross song ("Love Hangover") just didn't do it for me. I'll pull the Paula routine and comment on her look, though. She has the most sensational outfits. Tonight's dress was another stunner. I've yet to see her dressed in anything that wasn't absolutely gorgeous. I still have hope that she'll rapidly develop some mysterious personality trait and rebound. We'll see.

Ugh, it takes me too long to do these entries! I've called in my votes, but now I really need to go get some sleep. 'Night!

~~~
"Never Get Enough" by Raul Midon. I discovered this album when NPR did a piece on him. Once I listened to it, I was transformed. It is a magical album. He is magical.

Actual posting time: 12:42am zzzzzzzzzzzz..............

quick critic

OK, the female American Idol contestants have two advantages over the men. First, more of them have more obvious talent. And second, all of them want to win and take the whole thing way more seriously.

I only have a few things to grumble about tonight, unlike last night, which was so icky, I reduced it to a tiny footnote in an entry otherwise about the Bicentennial! By the way, one more thing about last night. Sundance Head. I'd included him in my "honorable mention" category last week (which can be taken with a grain of salt because my only other H.M. was voted off), but this week, I've completely jumped off the Sundance bandwagon. He attempted to sing "Jeremy" by Pearl Jam, and it became painfully apparent to me why nobody except Eddie Vedder should ever sing a Pearl Jam song. Ted was baffled that I found it such an affront.

So, brief girl gripes. My biggest issue is with Antonella Barba. She should have been one of the first off, but she's managed to hang on through a few weeks of remarkably weak attempts at singing. As if that weren't bad enough in itself, tonight she had the audacity to mutilate the wonderful Corinne Bailey Rae song, "Put Your Records On." Shame, shame, shame!

Otherwise, Gina did a respectable Evanescence although she shouted it a bit -- Amy Lee, she's not. Sabrina proved again she can sing even if her power and flair were a bit lacking tonight. Jordin tried a bit too hard on a Pat Benatar song, but the talent peeked through. Haley was OK but ultimately forgettable.

Which leads me to the girl highlights. Here are my favorites, in order of my preference.


1. Melinda Doolittle. Holy cow. Let the judges say whatever they want about her timidity, Melinda is world-class. She may be shy and unassuming in pre- and post-singing chat, but when she's on stage, she is a superbly talented and entertaining professional. And her performances have never disappointed me. Not once. Not only my favorite female, but my favorite to win the Season 6 Idol crown.


2. Lakisha Jones. It's unfair to put Lakisha in second place, because -- much like Melinda -- her performances are always flawless. She has a confident and powerful voice and presence, and clearly should make a living as a singer (not a banker!). This is obviously some inexplicable differentiation in my head that puts Lakisha slightly behind in the ratings, but it's certainly not for lack of talent. She has also never given anything other than lustrous performances.


3. Stephanie Edwards. Also talented and strong, she's a little less consistent than Melinda and Lakisha. Still, she's got the ingredients: she just needs to cook them up the right way every week. Noteworthy though really meaningless in the context of singing well to win a contest -- her dress tonight was stunning. And her hairstyle reminds me of Fantasia.

With that, I bid bon soir. I'm tired, and even the quickest of blog entries takes me an hour. Someday in the not-too-distant future, I will have more time to dedicate to this process. You'll see.

"You Taught My Heart to Sing" by Dianne Reeves. The funny thing about iTunes shuffle is that I feel like I should always be entering different artists here, but there's always the possibility of hearing the same artist numerous times in a sitting. Usually, it's a sign that there is a larger number of songs by said artist in my library. But sometimes, it's just random. In this case, it is the former. I love Dianne Reeves and am in possession of all of her recordings.

saturday stuff, part vi (final)

Shall tomorrow's entries all be titled "Sunday Stuff?" Shall I blog at all tomorrow? Only time will tell.

I managed to maintain my energy level all day long. I don't know from whence it came -- especially considering I started at 5:30am. I made astonishing progress on my to-do list. Ted assisted with the final stretch of the stocking assembly line. Thanks, Honey! All 12 of the kids' stockings are done, and bonus, so are most of their presents. I even made progress on non-kids gifts.

Yee-haw, it's only November 11th, and we're nearly done with all of our Christmas preparation! The stash will sit quietly, happily, steeping in good cheer, until we pack everything up in large storage containers and drive North for the holiday. I love Christmas!

Speaking of today's date, it's also my brother's 50th birthday and Veterans' Day. When I was growing up, the running joke in our family was that Gerry thought school was closed because it was his birthday. He's still climbing ice walls, camping in the desert, geocaching, and eagerly seeking out new things to learn. He's the youngest half-centenarian I know. Happy birthday, Gere!

Veterans' Day makes me think about a whole bunch of things. First is for the people who are future veterans -- the ones out there today. A woman from my office was called up last summer, and is in Iraq now. A group of us are putting together a care package for her and her troops. Travel-sized shampoo bottles, pocket-sized tissue packs, bug spray. Merry Christmas, eh? Then I think about the veterans from conflicts past, the sacrifices they made, and the memorials in the park of my home town.

The New York Times had a feature today where they showcased the designs of several artists who each proposed a new way honor veterans. Most of them were interesting. There was a large window in the shape of the United States. A "USA OK" t-shirt. The official American uniform (Levi's jeans, white t-shirt, Rayban sunglasses, and optional Chuck Taylor sneakers).

I found this one of the buttons (above) particularly striking. In fact, it makes me cry. It makes me think of my friend, Hildi, and my nephew's graduation where several of his classmates stood up to be recognized before leaving to join the armed services.

And so now I need to talk about something else. Speaking of my nephew (the same, Andrew, who helped me earlier today), niece Caitlin also provided vital information to assist with my massive music project. They are two smart cookies! I haven't uploaded any more songs since the last time I mentioned song count in an earlier entry, but would like to note that I uploaded a total of 1001 songs today. Isn't that a great number? And I was worried that I'd be averaging 32.5 songs per day. Peeshaw!

One last note, then I must go. Despite my never-ending energy flow, my throat is starting to get sore -- a sign that my body's tired, even if I don't feel it. It was only a matter of time before I caught the gunk that my poor husband's been battling all week.

When talking about size acceptance, I'm usually venting my frustration as the world tries to cram a bunch of wrong-headed information down everyone's throats and claim that it's only because they care about our health. This is a load of hooey for a zillion reasons, although the big, simple one is this: not everyone who is fat is unhealthy, in the same way that not everyone who is thin is healthy. Obviously, it's more complicated than that (which is also one of the zillion reasons), but let's just go with this one.

One of my favorite television shows (House) recently centered an episode on the mysterious health travails of George Hagel -- a 600 pound man. Upon watching the show, I am extremely satisfied by it. That happens so rarely when it comes to fat in entertainment that I feel it warrants mention.

The crux of the issue is that George knows with equal certainty that he is both fat and free of the elevated health hazards (glucose, cholesterol, blood pressure, etc.) that are so routinely associated with it. The doctors' tests repeatedly prove that, but in an effort to understand the cause of his recent unexplained coma, they continue down the fat path.

George refuses.

He demands that their tests include any possible cause other than his weight. Still they persist, to the point where House is trying to force him to drink the sugar solution for a glucose tolerance test. It is only then, when George flails his arms to fight the onslaught of liquid and House grabs his hand to force him, that House realizes from George's clubbed fingers that he has lung cancer. A sad story of inoperable illness that will lead to the character's demise. When told, George says, "I never smoked." The episode is title "Que Sera Sera."

There were plenty of fat jokes, insults, and assumptions flying around during the show (insults are a staple of the series, so this is right in line with the norm). And they couldn't resist the emphasis on his eating habits (a gourmet chef with an industrial size refrigerator in his kitchen). But what differentiates it from all the other shows/movies that include fat in the plot line is that those assumptions are called into question and ultimately debunked. George is intelligent, informed, well-spoken, and rational. And his illness is not caused by his weight. His frustration was palpable, and his fight to convince people hit extremely close to home for me.

The whole show was a cleansing breath of fresh air. I can only hope that enough people who saw the show got the right message out of it. It saddens me a bit to know that there were undoubtedly many viewers who saw it without actually getting the points that I got.

Big, fat (and I mean that in a really good way) kudos to the Fox network, and the writers and producers who created this (and every) episode of House.

"Kiss on My List" by Daryl Hall and John Oates.

~~~
Santa painting by Richard Lithgow.

kirstie alley is full of shit

Anyone who knows me, knows that I have admired Oprah Winfrey for many years. I am particularly enamoured with her philanthropic work, although her determination to overcome adversity and become the architect of her own massive success is also quite admirable. In the last couple years, though, the sheen has worn off as she more frequently and enthusiastically embraces the superficial on her show (and in her magazine, which I stopped reading about a year ago). More importantly, I am deeply disappointed when she exhorts to her millions of fans -- many of whom hang on her every word -- that emulating said superficialities will improve their lives.

She embodies contradiction. And she should know better.

Building schools for girls in Africa improves lives. Rebuilding homes in the Gulf Coast improves lives. Allowing audience members to help their communities with the aid of $1000 debit cards improves lives. Increasing the literacy of millions of otherwise bookless TV zombies improves lives. She knows these things: she's done them all and more.

So, when she spends a ridiculous amount of time over a couple years glorifying Kirstie Alley's weight loss extravaganza, I have to wonder a couple things. First, how is she able to conveniently forget her own experience with years of yo-yo dieting? Second, how much money is Jenny Craig, Inc. paying to have their name sprinkled so liberally on one of daytime TV's most watched television shows? Third, in the year 2012, what will the Oprah show episode be like when Kirstie comes back to wage her next inevitable battle of the bulge?

Oprah is guilty of perpetuating the false hope that weight loss is possible (when 95% of the time, it's not), and that it solves all of life's problems (when 100% of the time, it does not). So when I started to watch yesterday's TiVo'd Oprah show -- the one highlighting Ms. Alley's bikini entrance -- I deleted it after only watching the first few minutes. Thinking I'd done my duty for Size Acceptance by rejecting the show outright, I moved on to the computer to check email and read some news.

But there she was again. I might have let the whole thing slide were it not for this article. In it, Ms. Alley simultaneously flaunts her newly-svelte body and claims she's not defined by it.

"I think women -- I don't think we ever feel like we're good enough. We don't feel like we're thin enough or pretty enough or smart enough or work hard enough. And we are good enough... . The bikini thing is neither here nor there, other than the fact, you know, I am 55 years old. So I thought -- come on, we are all good enough. And we look good enough. And we are not our bodies." - Kirstie Alley

Hogwash. Poppycock. Balderdash.

How is it possible to say you're good enough after spending two years chastising yourself in a veritable media blitz? It's not. It's all horseshit. Bullshit. Publicity. And the happy "look, I lost weight and look fabulous and YOU SHOULD TOO!" routine is just one more hammer banging away in a universe of hammers that pound the message that thin=happy+healthy and fat=unhappy+unhealthy and there's nothing in the middle. It doesn't matter that nothing in life is that straightforward.

And I again dissolve into the continuation I don't have the time or energy to follow-through on. So, I'll end tonight's rant on a note mentioned before in this space. John Tierney of the New York Times wrote a nice piece called "Fat and Happy" that mentioned this great concept identified by George Armelagos, an anthropologist at Emory University. Speaking of popular preference for body types, he calls the relatively recent desire for thinness the "King Henry VIII and Oprah Winfrey Effect." This is how it's explained:

"In Tudor England, it took hundreds of gardeners, farmers, hunters and butchers to keep Henry VIII fat. In America today, anyone can bulk up without help, but it takes a new set of vassals - personal trainer, nutritionist, private chef - to keep Oprah from looking like Henry VIII."

testing 1, 2, 1, 2

I'm on the new beta version of Blogger which allows me to label my posts, thereby grouping similar posts. Cool, eh? But because I'm in full Saturday morning chore mode, and we have company coming over for Round 3 of the Lost Season 2 catch-up viewing, I don't have a lot of time for silly things like reading instructions. So, I'm just going to think up a few quick labels and make this post part of all of them.

Post-Lost tonight, I may come back to try a new post. Isn't the anticipation just too much?

the men of television

I should probably be reading the stack of books that continues to accumulate in my section of our library. Or even, less esoterically, the pile of entertainment rags adorning the coffee table. Instead, there are a few television shows that have really caught my attention. Bones, a carryover from its first season last year, is still a favorite. And I just love the new Sci-Fi Channel series, Eureka. I haven't missed an episode.

Alas, there is a bigger quandary. The leading men of these shows are the unwitting participants in a fantastical duel for my attention. Move over, Dr. McDreamy (I've never seen one minute of Grey's Anatomy), Sheriff Carter and Agent Booth are here!

Sure, they're easy on the eyes; handsome in conventional ways. But there's more there there. Could it be the man in uniform phenomenon? Nah, the FBI guy just wears a suit. It's more that. They're both funny. And smart. With warmth that just exudes from what is undoubtedly their own personalities.

OK, so they're well-written characters portrayed by good actors... who just happen to be seriously hunky. A third clearly in the running -- although too skinny to earn this last descriptor -- is Dr. Gregory House. He is the king of well-written, well-acted, and he's sexy in that I-know-he's-really-got-a-British-accent-under-that-American-one way. Scrawny, really, but funny.

"Is this an intervention? You're a little late since I'm not using drugs anymore. I am, however, still hooked on phonics."

But all three of them are really funny. When Jack's daughter, Zoe, grabbed a wheat grass for herself and scolded her father for drinking too much coffee, his response was, "I'll stop drinking caffeine when you stop drinking the lawn."

Why am I blogging about this? Perhaps it's because I'm dealing with the anxiety of Eureka's season finale. It's just wrong for a show to END at the beginning of October! But hey, Mr. Monk left me weeks ago. I'll just have to suffice with my favorite FBI Agent, the cranky Doctor, and iTunes downloads (and SciFi webisodes) of the Sheriff for now.

graduations of all sorts

If the last posting was a bit vague, apologies for the confusion. Ethel Merman couldn't possibly have killed a television: her spirit is far too benevolent a force (she's been dead for more than 20 years, which would also make it difficult for her even to wound an appliance). It just happened that the last thing I'd watched on my husband's 54" monster TV was "There's No Business Like Show Business." Later that evening, the sound no longer worked. Ted attributed the death to La Merman's iron lungs.

Through a bizarre series of events (which I shall omit for the sake of brevity), the sound has since returned. See? Ethel only encouraged the TV to take a nice long rest. Nonetheless, the money we earmarked to buy a new TV this weekend is now in an account where it will rest and grow until which time the Big Guy actually kicks the bucket.

While the TV vacation took place, Andrew was being graduated* from high school. The rain -- which drenched Friday and returned Saturday evening -- managed to staunch itself long enough for a dry ceremony. The only real waterworks were from me (and, I suspect, numerous other sentimental relatives). I didn't cry too much, although it was hard to watch three of his classmates stand up to be recognized for going into the military. Especially after the principal spoke of how the class bonded on September 11, 2001 -- mere weeks after starting as Freshmen.

Andrew completed his high school career as a National Honor Society student. He sang the national anthem with a small choir during the ceremony, and he earned two scholarships. He was also a state champion shotputter. He'll spend the summer working like a madman at Sears to make more money for college. He's a good egg, and I'm proud of him (as if I had anything to do with his upbringing).


Andrew (center, with light blue collar) processing to his graduation

In other news of progress with the young ones in my life, Woodle is adapting well. There are still occasional, well, let's call them misunderstandings. But the volume is slowly coming down on those confrontations. He is no longer hiding all day long and just coming out in the evening. He's with us in the morning while we get ready. He's right at the door when we get home. He's even made himself comfortable on our bed -- which has been slightly challenging, given that Milo, Sadie, and Schmoo all have appointed spots there. Is there anything bigger than a king size bed?

My last picture of the night. I was working from home this evening, and Woodle decided to help me. Milo does this on a regular basis, although he's good about spending most of the time on his desktop afghan. Woodle is much more persistent. He sits between me and the keyboard, climbs up my shoulder and stays there for long periods of time, and circles all the equipment (printer, CPU, etc.) to get attention.

I was forced to remove a box of tissues and a stack of mail to make room for him to sit to the left of the keyboard while I worked. Before I did that, I managed to get a picture of him with my make-up mirror. I couldn't capture him actually looking at himself in the magnified side (which he did several times), but this is still a funny picture.


Woodle preens

It's so time for bed. As Tigger says, "ta ta for now!"

* Grammar lesson of the day: "Graduate" is a transitive verb, which means it must have a direct object. Therefore, a person does not graduate; he is graduated (i.e. the school performs the action of the verb upon him).