3,2,1...RESOLVE!

As many of you noted, and not that subtly I might add, this blog kind of fell by the wayside in 2008 (despite going like gangbusters when I was so angsty in the early part of the year). Indeed, it was my least number of annual blogposts since 2001, in which I did not know what a blog was. However, in 2009 and as your elected official, I vow to bring back the blog in a big way. (My blog that is. From the way my Google Reader has been exploding the whole blogosphere does not appear to be in any danger.)

So on that note and with OH NINE looming, I thought I'd share some more resolutions. Sure, it's not Reader Searches Remarked On (which returns in OH NINE!), but it's tradition and I promise to embellish with plenty of absurd commentary. Look out for falling black-eyed peas!

In 2009, I MaryT, do solemnly swear to...

1. Blog frequently. Love not fade away, etc. I'm thinking 2 times/week should do it, except in exceptional circumstances (i.e. I take a 10 day sojourn to West Texas, etc.) Hopefully it will be more frequent even, but I don't want to fail you, internet! Set the bar low, I say.

2. Finally create the web site I have been tooling on for 1.5 years. I don't want to share the domain here because for all except my most loyal fans it's an NOYB deal.

3. Take more pictures! I will use Chrissy as my inspiration (Actually, she is my eternal inspiration and I always want to be more like her: strictly in a non-creepy way, of course.)by snapping the everyday in an extraordinary way and the extraordinary in an equally extraordinary way. I thought I had done horribly this year in terms of photos, but having reviewed them for my someday-to-come Christmas newsletter, it could be a whole lot worse. I have a couple hundred snaps. Most were concentrated around several specific events, but at least I didn't let OH EIGHT go wholly undocumented. Nevertheless, OH NINE will be the year my Flickr gets down to business.

4. Get a camera worthy of this new endeavor! I have my eye on a Canon Rebel XTi, but as incurring massive credit card debt is NOT on this year's list of resolutions, I may have to aim a bit lower. One thing is for sure though: I will be selling my current hated camera on amazon. I will not tell you what it is, in hopes you will buy it from me. (Kidding!) It is not broken or anything; I just happen to hate it.

5. Buy less, get rid of more. So as not to make this completely unspecific, I would like at the end of '09, for my drawers and closet to be noticeably roomier, and contain only items that I really love and use. Goodbye clothes I never wear and/or that make me feel less than fabulous. Goodbye holey socks and underwear with no good days ahead. Motto: Store it in the trash! I will also reinstate my one-time purchasing test of "Would I mind moving this?" The answer is almost always yes, despite not having any plans to move. If there's one thing I hate, it's moving. But there are more things that I hate, so fortunately I have a blog.

6. Say "I hate..." less. Adopt "strongly dislike" and leave the hatin' to haters.

7. Actively choose happiness and banish haters. Responding to ugliness has never paid off for me (or probably anyone, methinks). Nasty blog comments, emails, and other negativity (aside from constructive criticism, of course) directed my way will be brushed off, ignored, and deleted. It's my life and I'll censor the bizards if I want to. Happiness is all of our right and it is my choice.

8. Cook with my husby! We both love to cook and especially together, but it's amazing how much we have gotten away from that this past year due to travel and schoolwork slavery. But Matt graduates this spring (W00t!) and I finally have my job in check (kinda), so it's time for more homecooked nights with my divinely-ordained food twin. Just a reminder in this same vein that Losers' Thanksgiving, henceforth known as Thanksgiving of Champions, returns in OH NINE and we want you at our table. (Emotional baggage not invited.)

9. Be on time! I am goint to try wholeheartedly to get on-board with Google calendar, or at the very least my utterly charming Kate Spade date book. While I do have a head for remembering all sorts of ridiculous minutiae like meeting dates and times and conferences and travel days, *and* an uncanny ability to list them off, my job and life test me a little too frequently for my liking. Not only do I need to remember to record dates and things, but also to review these recordings regularly and in a timely fashion, so as to actually be timely to stuff. Imagine! Also, I respect your time, world, and I want to show you in a meaningful way. :)

10. Love more. Live more. Be more! See Chrissy's "Be more" resolution for full details.


Happy New Year. Auld lang syne, etc to you all.

Yours in OH EIGHT-erocity,
MaryT

We interrupt this NYE to ask...

What in hades is a "shiver roast-com"?

Out of the last 100 hits to my blog, this particular search was about 80 of them. And thanks to it, I apparently have some new readers (average visit was shockingly lengthy) in Michigan, throughout Canada, and the UK. Well, welcome I say. But I have no idea what a shiver roast is. (Sorry.) I hope it is not something perverse. I am not about that. French-Roast is a beacon of light and virtuousity for upstanding citizens. Ha.

Old Friends, New Favorites

In the last day or so, perhaps in celebration of my return to the blogosphere (had you noticed?), I have received a windfall of internet gems. So now I share the love with you!

First, I am excessively diverted by Sonnie (and Kreg)'s find of Austenbook:
You will not be most seriously displeased by clicking here.

Second, from the creators of the internet phenomenon "Dick in a Box," comes a new favorite. Chrissy is a real pal for sending this to me before everyone else on the internet had seen it for years, which is typically my problem. Caution: Keep the volume low if you're at work! And watch out for the Justin Timberlake cameo.


Third, this is not interactive or anything, but Bishy sent me this and I love it!
RAWR!

You are welcome! Merry Christmas and thanks for not giving up on this blog (except those of you who gave up on this blog)!

A Taste for Love

It's amazing to me how many dating sites there are out there dedicated to the compatibility of partners in ways that allegedly matter. You know: the having or not-having of herpes, fandom of Jesus, fandom of prophets other than Jesus ,the sharing of hobbies and life goals to a sickening degree, financial and romantic desperation, vanity, altruism, Sagittarianism, lack of originality, etc. But where, oh where, is the dating site for people who want to be compatible in the most basic, most important, and most delicious way: their gastronomical preferences? Where are the people who love food in the same way I love food? (hypothetically speaking, of course, as Husby is my divinely ordained food twin--more on that later.) Sure, I think you might suggest that this group is already called "Overeater's Anonymous," but maybe not. Let's just consider.

Do me a favor and think of your partner, or if sans partner, think of three of your closest friends. Do you share a similar diet with this person(s)? Yes? I thought so! Have you ever broken up with someone for their assorted food tics, such as liking TGI Fridays, squeeze butter in their salsa, eating meat (or not eating it), or worst of all disputing Parmigianno Regianno's status as the King of All Cheeses?! (What do you mean "No that's just you, bizard!" ??) To this I say: you could certainly break up with someone for worse reasons in my highly snobby, food-loving opinion, such as their inability to use the correct past participle (guilty of this, also).

I mean seriously: if you're really in it for the long haul with your partner, can you watch them consume vile and unappealing sustenance several times a day for all of your days? Do you really want to be dragged into Chili's when you're in such flavor capitals as New York, New Orleans, Paris, or (and I will defend this mightily) Houston? Or be with the guy who orders a burger amid plates of decadent fish and fruits at the Haliimaile General Store in Maui? Actually, Bev Gannon probably doesn't offer burgers there. She is so wise. So flavorful. (She is my food crush.) Can you bear to come home to a Lean Cuisine meal on Valentine's Day (or ever, let's be honest)?

Life is too short to eat bad food or be with someone who can't tell the difference. That's why dating should really begin by scouring your favorite restaurant. Want a cautionary tale? Go to your most-loathed restaurant and see what washes up. There's got to be a dating service that does this. If not, there should be and it should be called A Taste For Love (.com). Don't steal this from me. I'm going to make a billion dollars from people who know what it takes to suss out a perfectly ripe avocado. You know I'm right and if you know or are lucky enough to have married your divinely-ordained food twin as I have, you know exactly what I am talking about.

So here's to Husby and me, who have been known to high-five over a perfect cut of meat, who will photograph an admirable fish dish, who make mental pro and con lists regarding certain cheeses in our macaroni and cheese recipes, who animatedly discuss future plans for our spice collection, and who, for God's sake, know not to accept imitations when it comes to parmigianno regianno.

You Can Leave Your Hat On...But Not Your Shoes

I am about to step on some toes here, so know that while I do not agree with your methods at all times, dear friends to whom this applies, I still find you to be super personally.

So that said, I'll just get it out there: I don't like taking my shoes off at peoples' houses.

I know, I know, you have white carpet/allergies/generally aberrant/neurotic behavior; I just find it incredibly awkward, especially if I am wearing dress shoes or the weather outside is nasty. I will inevitably end up standing, in my socks, in the slush of someone else's shoes.

I was lamenting this earlier with a very astute young person who brought up an episode of Sex and the City in which heroine Carrie has to take her $500 shoes off for a baby shower. When she goes to leave, her shoes have been filched and the hostess ends up having to pay for a shoe replacement, planting the seed of awkwardness in a once-normal friendship. Do you want to buy me $500 shoes, friend, if i had $500 shoes? I thought so.

And as we continue further down this insidious shoeless path, I may as well mention the instance in which a friend (you know who you are) had only painted key toenails that showed from her shoes. Arriving at a gathering, she was surprised to learn she would have to remove her shoes and consequently spent the rest of the evening trying to sit on her feet. Do you want to be responsible for this feet sitting behavior among your guests, friend?

Am I still hearing this no dirty carpet business? Well, I don't like getting my house dirty at all, if possible, but I still married Matt. I have several doormats and a sturdy vacuum cleaner. These are the choices we make in life. Honestly, your white carpet is none of my business, but when I had white carpet against my will at a rent house, I quite literally sucked it up and rented one of those shampooing deals from Kroger every now and again. This I paid for the honor and privilege of wearing shoes in my own house--or not, just as I and my guests pleased.

So there. I've said it. I feel better. Now don't stop inviting me over. I will still grudgingly comply because weird shoe rules aside, I really do think you several close friends are super.

Power Skeering

On a recent excursion to a town just up the road from Nacogdoches, I was mulling over in my mind how much I like rural East Texas (i.e. all of it). I had a good mix cd playing and I had just seen a sign that said "Life is a wonderful adventure. Drive joyfully!" and was attempting to do so.

Only moments into my cheerful musings, I turned a bend in the road and was face-to-face with the most gignantic Confederate battle flag I have ever seen in my life. You know, the same flag you typically see on the back windows of rusty trucks accompanied by Calvin peeing on something and the motto "Ain't Skeered"? Despite my fondness for hyperbole, I am not exaggerating when I say this flag was not only the biggest Confederate battle flag I have ever seen, but it pretty much dwarfed any and all American ones I had seen, too. Even those ones at car dealerships that make blow-up Godzilla seem like geckos by comparison. This flag, if strong enough and held taught, was large enough to catch a mac truck jumping from a burning building.

Despite my astonishment at seeing this large, large flag, I was still able to see past it to its environs. It was not a backwoods residence or even a squatter's tent, but a business. A drilling company with what looked like assorted employee vehicles parked out front.

WHAAAAAA?

Look, I'm aware of the whole "Heritage not Hate" argument, but REALLY. Wouldn't the *actual* flag of the Confederacy (i.e. "the stars and bars")been more appropriate in making that "point," however odd it is to make such a "point" at work. And also, are mammoth-sized flags covered in the whole Texas Workforce Commission policy about a non-hostile work environment? Because I find that hostile.

And it makes me especially sad because the many people who travel U.S. 59 through Texas every day will see this (they surely couldn't miss it) and think that it is representative of the people of East Texas. Maybe I am the one who is not representative of East Texas and found myself questioning that very thing, only moments after committing to driving joyfully. But what is the suggested remedy? Contribute to East Texas's reputation for having young people as the number one export? Or stay and fight such blatant hostility and latent racism? I am proud of my home (usually), so I know I must stay and fight (unlike the Yankee cowards! BAM!). So it's back to driving joyfully, but also with a purpose.