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MissMelisshttp://www.missmeliss.com

Resolutionary

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Inspired by CafeWriting.com, option One.

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I’ve never been one to set specific goals, as I don’t think that way. I have a few milestones I wish to hit – sell my book, write for a living, be the best version of myself that I can – but I’ve never believed in nickel-and-diming my resolutions. Still, over the years, I’ve had aspirations that I’ve achieved. Here are a few.

1) Dyed my hair pink. It’s been a year now. I’m a little bored with the pink, but it will remain for another 90 days at least.
2) Been to France. Still need to spend a month writing in Paris, but at least I’ve spent time in France. Others may have left their hearts in San Francisco, mine is somewhere in Languedoc.
3) Earned a living as a writer. It’s not fiction, but yes, I’m doing this now.
4) Communicating with family. I’ve been better about this, about letter writing, but I need to expand my reach a bit.
5) Household Organization: We still haven’t painted the kitchen. But we did finally decide on a color. Progress is being made.
6) Performing on Stage: I did improv for more than a year, and then my energy changed, and I started dreading it instead of enjoying it, and I’m still on semi-permanent hiatus.
7) Cooking at home more: Ask me about the killer broccoli beef I made the other night.

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This entry is proof that the act of writing that you have nothing to write about creates something to write about.

Nothing

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I’m in that mood where I have nothing to say, no words to sling, and the very thought of blogging makes my head ache. I know it will pass, that it’s just January doldrums and cold medicine, but at the moment, none of that matters.

Other Women get Jewelry Boxes

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…and I’ve been telling Fuzzy I need one for months, and half-expected he’d buy one for Christmas, except that I said I wanted to pick it. Today, he called me over to an aisle in Target (of all places) that I hadn’t even planned to visit, and said, “Look at these.” And so I did.

Paige - view3
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What I saw was a shelf full of jewelry armoires. The one he’d eyed was called “Abigail,” but it was a little to prissy and Colonial for me. (Coincidentally, my parents’ chihuahua is also called Abigail, and while she’s not Colonial, she is prissy.) A few options down the row was the “Paige” model, which sports the clean lines that I love in styles like Mission, Shaker, and Danish Modern (not that those are at all similar, mind you, because they all interpret clean lines in different ways). “Paige” is very square, with metal fittings that aren’t fussy, and even though she doesn’t match the wood of our bed and my dresser, she blends well enough. I don’t believe everything has to be matchy-matchy. Sometimes having something that doesn’t match can be a pleasant surprise.

Paige - view 4
Click to enlarge.

She was on sale for $49 (which, incidentally, is only $15 more than I paid for a more conventional, dresser-top jewelry box that I bought for my mother in 1980), and since she’s an armoire, she doesn’t clutter the dresser-top but occupies a section of wall near Fuzzy’s dresser (which we had to move down the wall some, but it’s all good.).

Despite balking about it initially, after he was plied with chips, queso, sweet tea and a chimichanga from Don Pablo’s, Fuzzy put her together for me, and I spent a pleasant hour hanging all my jewelry. The bottom drawer is filled with perfume samples. The second from the bottom holds my bandannas.

Paige - view 2

Paige - view 1
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The Problem with Target

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…is that they sell everything, and then some, and even though you go in looking for something cheap and innocuous, you end up leaving having spent half a million dollars.

This evening, we did just that. I wanted to pop by Starbucks for coffee filters and and a latte, dash into Target to look at sports equipment (I’m shopping for a home gym) and juicers (the basic automated orange squeezing type) and sunglasses, and we ended up coming home with 2 pairs of sunglasses, a new bath pillow, a plastic bin specially designed to hold rolls of wrapping paper, another large purple storage tub, slippers, flip flops, underwear and socks for Fuzzy, a pepper mill, a juicer and a jewelry armoire.

Along the way, we also looked at battery operated raptor toys, floppy gardening hats, home theater popcorn machines (I wanted one), chocolate fondue fountains, a lovely dining table and console table in espresso colored wood, a coffee-and-cream microfiber office chair (that I should have bought, but didn’t), and wine.

Who knew Target even sold wine? And while some of it was gross, cheap, wine, some of it was actually pretty good, if you’re adventurous and like to try boutique wines from small, predominantly Californian vintners. (I do.)

It was a fun trip.

And at least we got the juicer.

Sunday Scribblings: The Date

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I haven’t been to the library in years, and I’m itching for a trip to one, because free books are never a bad idea. Except of course that when it comes to me and libraries, the books are never free, because I’m not good about honoring The Date. You know the one. It’s either printed on a receipt, or stamped on a card, or, if you’re in a very old library in a very small town, handwritten on the manila card holder pasted into the back cover of a book. The due date. Only, I’ve always treated them more like…guidelines. Suggestions on when books should be returned.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I don’t finish the books I check out. There were times in my life, as late as five years ago, when I’d come home from the library with a bag of books so thick I couldn’t carry them all, only to have read every last one by the end of the weekend, but then we’d have something come up, and we wouldn’t make it back to the library, and we’d find ourselves, six weeks later, approaching the after hours book depository slot under cover of darkness, clad in black, and hoping beyond hope no one would SEE us returning long overdue books in such a fashion.

I always pay my fines though. I like to think of them as “donations to the library” rather than a penalty for not observing The Date.

Written for Sunday Scribblings.

It’s BACON!

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Click to Enlarge


I have to admit, when I first heard of a fully enclosed microwave bacon cooker, I was a bit skeptical. I mean, I’ve tried making bacon in the microwave, using everything from ceramic plates to funky crispers to plastic domes that are supposed to keep the grease from exploding – none of it worked.

Tonight, I learned that this bacon cooker is amazing. Out of the box, it looks vaguely like a water filtering pitcher, but I read the page of detailed instructions, and the email I received today, as soon as the post office scanned in the delivery info, and I have to say, it’s the easiest bacon cooking I’ve ever done – they even give you tips for how to separate the bacon easily (use a cheese-slicer type spatula and lift from the middle).

We don’t eat that much bacon because I’m just not that into cooking food that splatters, and – let’s be honest – bacon isn’t exactly a health food, but since I hadn’t defrosted meat tonight and we’re still working through the 36 eggs Fuzzy bought before Christmas, I had him stop and buy some on his way home tonight. Breakfast for dinner is a long-standing tradition in my family, and tonight it worked out fine. I started melting the butter for an omelet then draped six slices of bacon over the “vanes” of the cooker, sealed it inside, and set the microwave for 4 minutes. (The instructions recommend 45 seconds per slice for bacon that comes 11 strips/pound or 30 seconds per slice for bacon that comes 22 strips/pound. OF COURSE our bacon was 16 strips/pound. I used the 30 seconds per slice formula, and it worked fine).

After four minutes, we had six slices of crispy bacon, that wasn’t at all greasy, and with almost no mess. We poured the grease into the jar we use for such things, and made a second batch, and it was just as good as the first.

Cleanup was a breeze as well – just rinse all the parts in steaming hot water and let them air dry. According to the documentation, they’re also dishwasher safe, or warm soapy water will work, too.

I have to say that this bacon cooker makes cooking bacon so easy and clean, it’s a detriment to any diet, except that it strips almost all the grease away as well.

A Red-Letter Read-Letter Day

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It may be nearly noon, and I may be swamped with work, but I took a moment to go check the mail, and I’m glad I did, because not only was there a letter from my mother, on the spiffy note cards I gave her for Christmas, but there were also two – TWO – free mail envelopes from soldiers.

One was from one of my officials, and included the questionnaire asking for stuff, and a thank you note and his email address, and the other was from one of the guys from my Christmas card list. Funny guy. Handwriting like an engineer – very precise, and done in foolscap.

In other news, a friend complained about her computer and that reminded me of laptop rental services, and I wondered if, now that you can’t bring electronics in-cabin on flights from the US to England, those sorts of services are booming overseas. With flash drives holding so much data now, it almost makes sense to rent whatever you need and have one less thing to carry.

(I offered to rent her one of mine; she declined.)

And finally, I just emailed myself the final structure for my Cafe book. Now I just need to finish writing it. Five short stories. Interconnected.

I need coffee now.

Breathless (an excerpt)

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A bit of what I wrote for this month’s Cafe Writing prompt:

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“Race you to the jetty!” I yell and take off without checking to see if Sam is running or not. I don’t much care if I win, I just love the way the sand feels under my bare feet, warm at the surface, then colder beneath, and I love the way the blood surges in my veins as my legs move and my arms pump.

Breathless, the wind and ocean in my ears, face, and hair, I can’t really hear his footfalls, but I can feel his presence a little bit behind me, closer to the surf. Just as in the scene from Atalanta, we reach the jetty together, and sprawl in the sand near the slate blue rocks.

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You can read the rest here.