Monthly Archives: November 2007

The Project Runway Project

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In just a bit more than 24 hours, season four of Bravo TV’s Project Runway will begin, and some fashionista friends and I are going to blog the experience. We’ll be discussing the designers themselves, the designs, the judges, the challenges, and of course, the models, and we’ll also be trying our best to pick the winner.

Where will all this happen? At Electric Tangerine of course.

So, grab your score cards and your snarkiest attitude, slip your feet into a killer pair of shoes, and strut down the runway with us.

All are welcome.

Even if you don’t wear pink.

Productive

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I just sat down to have a yogurt, because I was feeling lightheaded and spacey, but despite the fact that we never got to walkies today (there was dancing in the living room, and a rousing game of fetch, but…), it’s been a productive day. Three articles for work, plus news and a jump-start on a new article.

Tweaked a couple of things on the Project That Will Be Unveiled Tomorrow.

And now? Am trying to decide what to do with ground turkey. Probably turkey meatloaf because that way I’m not actively cooking late at night if Fuzzy’s estimate of how long he’ll be at work proves false.

I had more to say, but the brain is fried.

Happy Monday.

I Support the WGA

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I felt it was important, even though the writing I do is for a web company and has nothing to do with residuals or anything like that, to show my support of the Writers Guild of America. Yes, their strike may mess up your entertainment options for a while, but that’s necessary sometimes. People deserve to have their work respected, and to be paid fairly for what they do.

That is all.

Support Writers

Red is the Color of my Favorite Cup

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…or rather the color of the cups that signify the beginning of the holiday season. Yes, my friends, the red cups are back at Starbucks and with them have arrived peppermint mochas (which you can actually get all year, but taste better in red cups), eggnog lattes, and caramel apple cider. I’m a mocha girl myself, while Fuzzy’s a cider guy.

He was up til six this morning working on, well, work, and I spent yesterday using Nyquil to help nuke the last of a cold that I couldn’t shake, since it was determined I have nothing wrong that antibiotics can help (no sinus infection). Nyquil doesn’t do much but knock me out, but sometimes being asleep is the best thing you can do. I had a long nap yesterday afternoon, had the lights out for the night by eleven-thirty, and didn’t get out of bed this morning til after ten, then returned to nap some more about an hour later.

This evening we went to Panera, but it wasn’t at all satisfying, and then to Half Price Books where for $63 we got more than 100 Christmas cards, a book for Fuzzy, and a bunch of little gifty things that I can’t mention because some are for my mother who reads my blog.

And then, of course, we went to Starbucks for hot, steamy, red-cupped goodness, and another present for Mom.

It was a good day.

By the way, if you’re not on my Christmas list, and want to be, or are, and have moved since last Christmas, please send an email to Melissa AT MissMeliss DOT com with your name and snailmail address so you can receive a card from us. (If you’re reading this on LiveJournal, I’ll be setting comments to be screened, and you can reply there.)

Shiny

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Sprawled across the bed last night, lamplight shining warmly on my book, my hair in a loose knot sealed with a scrunchie, I saw something moving in the corner of my eye, and turned to follow it.

At first I thought I was seeing a reflection of the neighbor’s backyard light. It’s one of those tall arcing boat-dock lights and glimpsed through wind-blown trees often reminds me of a lamppost one might find in Narnia (or the back of a wardrobe), but their light was off.

I raised my hand, noticed the glittery fleck moving in tandem and had to laugh. I was seeing light reflected from my diamond rings, the larger engagement one, and the smaller wedding band with it’s platinum inset, sheaves of wheat on the sides, and microscopic diamond chips.

I laughed because these rings – both of them – are tiny, and in truth the diamond in the engagement ring is flawed. I know this because my grandmother told me the story of it often. How my grandfather bought it for all of $75, how she loved the way it would sparkle.

When I used to visit her in the nursing home, after she’d passed it down to me, she would hold out her hand for mine, and move our clasped fingers into the light. “See it shine,” she’d say, with a soft smile on her face and memories dancing in her eyes.

I knew, in those moments, that she was living fifty years in the past when love was new and her body and mind worked in tandem with each other instead of against.

Last night, after my moment of realization, I closed my eyes and imagined her voice, a little shaky, but still very much alive, saying, “Look at it sparkle. See it shine.”

And for just a fraction of a second, I smelled her powder and perfume.

Wheat Germ

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My Thursday Thirteen post for today is below, so scroll down if that’s the only reason you’re here. Otherwise, I want to talk about wheat germ.

Specifically I want to talk about why I like wheat germ. It’s not for nutritional value, and it’s not for flavor or texture, though it offers all three. I like wheat germ because it reminds me of my grandfather.

Chilly mornings when i was little I would come downstairs to find my grandfather standing at the stove in his robe and slippers, the former a faded blue that matched the shade of a stormy sea, the latter scuffed brown man-slippers. (Men’s shoes are so distinctly masculine, even the slippers. They’re masculine in ways that women’s shoes are NOT feminine. It’s weird. Or it’s me. Probably both.) We would discuss the merits of raisins and walnuts, of brown sugar and honey, and always, at the end, I would watch him spooning wheat germ from the tall jar, sprinkling it over his bowl.

Wheat germ smells like fall. It’s an aroma that is reminiscent of baking bread, of cold nights, of warm ovens, of home. It is a little sweet, a little nutty, gritty, and faintly metallic. Sometimes it’s like cookie crumbs, other times it’s not.

This morning, as I write this, I am just finishing a bowl of oatmeal with wheat germ.
And honey.

Thanks, Grandpop, for all the great memories.

Thursday 13: 0711.08

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Thirteen Things about MISS MELISS
Things that Begin with Y

  1. Y’all – I talked about this word a few days ago, in this post. I have nothing to add, except that it bugs me when people spell it “ya’ll” which just…makes no sense.
  2. Yacht Harbor – The ship-y, tar-y scents of the Atlantic Highlands (NJ) Yacht Harbor are some of my favorite memories from childhood. Weekends we’d go for walks on the piers, either my mother and me, or my grandparents and me. Summers, there would be the firemen’s fair in the parking lot. Every once in a while, we’d do a day trip on one of the fishing boats. My favorite was the Sea Cat.
  3. Yahrzeit – I’m not Jewish, though my stepfather is. This tradition, this remembrance, is one I’ve adapted to suit my own sensibilities.
  4. Yam – Pink skin, golden-orange inside, sweetness without adding sugar, truly amazing with melted butter.
  5. Yard – After a lifetime of living in apartments, when Fuzzy and I bought our first home with it’s postage-stamp yard, I swore I’d never live anywhere without one again. Yards, to me, mean permanence. Also, it’s way easier to have pets.
  6. Yarn – I don’t knit, though my friends do. I envy their talent. I have a footlocker in my living room that holds my grandmother’s knitting things, half made projects, balls of yarn. She thought it was essential to keep your hands moving all the time, and I don’t think she would have counted blogging among the viable options. The other meaning of “yarn,” of course, is a story. Sea stories, fish stories, those are some of my favorites.
  7. Yarrow, Peter – He’s the “Peter” of “Peter, Paul & Mary” which was the music of my childhood. He’s also Puff’s father, and one of the funniest, gentlest men I’ve ever met. He made the entire company of a benefit party sing happy birthday to me the year I turned 32.
  8. Yearn – Wishing, hoping, dreaming, yearning – all these things are essential to imagination and creativity.
  9. Yellow – I used to hate yellow. I still won’t wear it, because it makes me look jaundiced, but I like so many yellow things – lemons, lemonade, cheery kitchen walls, morning sun.
  10. Yes, and – The concept of “agree and add” – the heart of improv. I’m not always GOOD at it, and have to work hard, at times, to not say “No, but…” Nevertheless, I appreciate the concept.
  11. Yesterday – Our memories and experiences inform our choices and the stories we tell. Just as there is no light without dark, there is no tomorrow without today and yesterday. Also, the song’s kind of cool.
  12. Yodel – This word doesn’t make me think of Ricola commercials so much as it does the puppet show scene in The Sound of Music. Enough said.
  13. Yogurt – I like yogurt. I’m currently digging Lucerne’s light flavors, but I’m fine with most any brand as long as it’s not a strawberry flavor. Plain yogurt is a great substitute for sour cream in many recipes, also.

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Winter Sky

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It may be early in November, and not particularly cold, but the sky beyond my window is a chilly steel-gray, of the sort that creeps through the windows and hangs inside the house making it seem as though there’s never enough light.

I’ve kicked the heat on, just a little, to chase the chill from the air, but I still feel sort of drug-addled from the color of the light. So tempting to light every candle and put a log on the fire, but it really isn’t cold enough for the latter, and I desperately need to restock my votive supply.

I had cinnamon stick tea earlier, but I think a pot of coffee is called for now.