Seriously, Who Died?

I now interrupt this imposter color week to bring you a blog I should have written a week ago, or at the very least twittered. Of course, I did go on about it at last Saturday's Crafternoon, which is pretty close to telling everyone I know, but...

Last Saturday, on my drive home from Hobby Lobby on Hwy 7/Fredonia inside the loop, I saw what is becoming a bit of a motif 'round these parts: a confederate battle flag. The weirdest thing was that it was at half mast.

I can only horrifyingly conclude that either this was Obama-related (therefore the whole pride, not prejudice argument is obviously, err, shot) or someone JUST got the news about Lee's surrender at Appomatox, in which case I really *must* recommend satellite television or high speed internets.

What can one make of this?

Imposter Color Week: Silver Friday!

We can all breathe a sigh of relief because it's the end of what felt to me like a marathon blogging session, in which I said nothing and did nothing. Don't get me wrong: I enjoy others' photo-centric blogs and I actually think I learned a lot from these case studies in color, but this is not a photo blog. Yes, occasionally I throw in the odd image, but what has kept my approximately 5 fans loyal over the years is not my camera skills. It is obviously my long-winded, didactic indictments of modern life. I mean really: you can get images everywhere else on the internet, but against all reason, we specialize in text here at French-Roast. Hey, while I'm at it, maybe I'll add frames and 5-tiered pulldown menus to the site. Hey! What about one of those most excellent animated gifs with the flashing envelope?! "Email me! Email me!" If you're really good, I'll add a midi file to an obscure country and western song that is the soundtrack to my circa-1996 America Online love affair with an equally socially inept fat person in the Midwest who prefers amber-tinted glasses to clear.

Oh wait, hold up. That's some other people (Noonan knows who!), but I am obviously fascinated by them. Otherwise, I wouldn't have tracked their lives so carefully through their various Geocities and Tripod "homes on the web." Ah, me. I am tearing up thinking of the golden days of the internets. Or should I say silver?

What? You want to see some photos of silver? Fine! They're not that great. My problem with silver was that everything is silver. My appliances, my soap dish, my wedding ring, my fillings. It's funny that when you start looking for things that were right in front of you, you really do finally see them. So lesson learned. Amazing discoveries! But these are the three mediocre faux-tos (word inspired by Chrissy's explanation of a "faux-tographer"--i.e. me) for silver day. Onward to MY ART! Ha.



What a drip! It's my mid-century bathroom faucet.



Red light! Green light!



I can't remember what this is, so obviously I did a great job. [vigorous eye roll] It's either an old car or an old fire truck, or maybe an old car that was turned into a fire truck. Either way, I took entirely too many photos at the Beaumont Fire Museum and now you are paying the price. So, I declare imposter color week officially finished at F-R. I'm sure in a month I'll have forgotten how boring I was this week, so I hope Chrissy will ask me again when a real one happens.

Until then...
Imposter Color Week Blog Roll:
Chrissy, Sonnie, Chay

Imposter Color Week: Purple Thursday

It is a little known fact, but there are actually ancient frescoes in Nacogdoches. They don't exactly date back to the caves of Lascaux or anything, but there certainly haven't been re-conditioned since well before the smoking ban took effect in town.



Yes, this is a wall detail from Casa Tomas. And those of us who are loyal to Casa Tomas get somewhat out of sorts when it is suggested that we should attend another lesser local Mexican restaurant. In Houston, when bajillions of worthy Mexican establishments were at my fingertips, I never felt the kind of loyalty that I share with my fellow Casa Tomas purists. I mean the only reason Sonnie, Chrissy, and I can even remain friends is because we agree never to talk about it. :) I mean seriously people: how can you go to La Carretta when the Laredo taco dinner is a nearby option?

I do not have a whimsical story to go with these, but it's kind of a miracle I found them at all. Purple is in somewhat of short supply in my house (which I fully intend to rectify, as I find purple to be good and worthy). My other options were a pile of dirty laundry with a purple towel in it (which Matt vetoed on grounds that I would literally be airing our dirty laundry), a box of Staples-brand envelopes (which looked blue and crappy with flash), and the top of a wine bottle, which Matt lobbied hard for, but ultimately lost out to....

ta-dum...his messenger bag strap and...




the mightiest power tool in the house.



Won't you be glad when color week is over and I can stop boring you with these vapid interludes that work their way in between photos? Or should I say ORANGE you glad color week doesn't last forever?

Thank you very much!

Imposter Color Week Blog Roll:
Chrissy, Sonnie, Chay

Imposter Color Week: Green Wednesday

Hi! It's Green Wednesday here at Imposter Color Week HQ and I am at an unusual loss for words, so let's just get right to the photos, eh?




Is it tacky to post pictures of other peoples' children? I can't help it. Rees is Nacogdoches's favorite toddling socialite. While other girls had Barbie dolls, I had a Bobbie Doll who wore just such a suit as this (except it was blue). I was never much of a doll person, but Bobbie and me were pals, just like Rees and me: we're pals.



This is my favorite chair in our house, though strangely, I don't sit in it much. I think it's because if Matt and I are both in the library, he is usually in it first. Maybe that explains these weird food spots on it. Hmm. Everything is illuminated...



This is the bread we got this week. I like it pretty well, even though Matt's non-breadmaker breads are my favorite. I kind of want him to drop out of forestry school and become a pastry chef--mainly so I can eat his creations all the time. He loves the trees, so I'll try not to be selfish. So...look: no high fructose corn syrup! What's in your bread?

Too boring for you? Cut me some slack. It's not easy being green, especially as an imposter!

Imposter Color Week Blogroll:
Chrissy, Sonnie, Chay

Imposter Color Week Continues!: Polka Dot Tuesday

It's only Tuesday (and really, if you see what time my blog is being posted, I think we all must know it's truly Monday night) and already we, the imposter/renegade/faux color week all-star band are busting out of the color wheel and polka-ing into ur internetz.

I anticipated today's "color" challenge to be kind of a pain since only clowns and clown groupies surround themselves in hot vats of polka dots, right? This morning, I took my camera to work vowing I *would* spot the unexpected polka dots hiding in the historic facades of downtown Nacogdoches, perhaps in Braille signage (which doesn't photograph well, I have to tell you) despite the gloomy, cold weather giving them camouflage. But it was not to be and I brought my camera home at lunch, dejected. It was while eating lunch that I looked up and discovered that within one head swivel, I was already in Polka Dot Town, population: everything I own. And this was somehow surprising to me, despite the fact that aside from the intensity of red in my personal items collection, the rest of our house is straight out of Rainbow Brite/Crazy Town. (Ask me about my bath towel art!)

So without further ado...Polka Dot Tuesday. Live and in vigorous color.



I was not joking yesterday when I said someone might have to get the measles. Turns out it was these poor Beanie Babies, which are key to our growing Freak Art Collection that lives in an enclosed ex-window unit space and is suitable for displaying a person's weirdness. Aside from these fine BBs, which are actually meant to be Matt and me (Cautionary tale: Never, even jokingly--no, especially jokingly-- put a theme on your wedding web site; you will continue to collect items in this theme from well-meaning relatives until you are forced to start your own Freak Art collection.), lives a miniature Death Eater mask/scenery, courtesy of Jo, and some lovely tree-branch vases that I like a great deal and would move, if they didn't look so bizarrely at home with the rest of our Freak Art.

Err, so photo two.



Ahh, my favorite subject. What can I say? Here is Molly at play in the library, which is our best decorated room in the house. Chrissy said it could be included in Livejournal's exclusive "Saucy Dwellings" group blog. Wags all around.



And three: my lackluster attempt to get a cool angle on a dinner that was not yet ready. Honestly, I just wanted a picture like Chrissy's bananas that kick you in the face (which is getting to be a theme with me, this week), but instead just felt hungry. Oh yeah, my dinner napkins have polky dots.

And there you have it folks: Polka Dot Tuesday and some freak insight into my dotty life.


Other Imposter Color Week Bloggers:
Chrissy, Sonnie, Chay

Imposter Color Week: RED-y for Monday!

A couple of weeks ago, Chrissy (I always link her, but if you read my blog with any regularity, it's hard to imagine you don't know who she is by now) participated in a color week, organized by another blogger, in which she posted photos in a specific color/pattern each week day for one week. I was dying to participate myself, but not only was I kind of not aware of it until mid-week, but I also had a horrible camera. Now! Oh now! I am rocking the Canon Rebel, so I have organized an imposter color week with some of my friends and fellow bloggers (linked below). (Have I mentioned my new year's resolutions?!)

I started the week with red because it's my favorite and because you needed a good punch in the face this morning. And also, it's all I have. No kidding (or no kidding much). Last week during my travels, in anticipation of color week, I took about 11ty billion photos. In my mind, all were dazzling and the full ROY G BIV had equal representation. The reality of course is that I am a crazed raccoon whose brain is apparently only capable of seeing red and shiny (thank God for silver Friday!) and about 90% of the 11ty billion color week snaps I took are thematically red. That is why I am posting four today instead of 3 because it was hard enough to cull these down. (And if you don't know about me and red...have we met?) Also, it is Chinese New Year, so I want to welcome the Year of the Ox with a most auspicious color. Welcome Oxen!

Tomorrow is polka dots though, so unless someone nearby comes down with the measles or something (and I sincerely hope no one does), I am going to have to work for this one. Until then, enjoy one of my two days of being RED-y in advance, brought to you by my inner raccoon. And now for your punch in the face!

RED! featuring Beaumont, the museum capital of Texas (true story!).










Top to bottom:
Fire engine at the Beaumont Fire Museum
Mobil's iconic Pegasus at Texas Energy Museum
Sun Man at Texas Energy Museum
Chair cushion at St. Anthony Cathedral Basilica

Imposter Color Week Bloggers (I think; any others, please chime in)
Chrissy, Sonnie, Chay

Go Lefty, Go!

MY president is already showing the world what a lefty can do. (Yes, I know some people I like a lot less are also lefties.) Today, Obama signed an order to close Guantanamo in a year.

Cue national anthem and mass movements of hands over hearts.

I swear my blog is not going to forevermore be the Obama lovefest blog, but can you believe?! President! Obama! It sounds better every day.

P.S. A very happy birthday Peter, my precious nephew--two today!

It's O-fficial!

In solidarity with the Iraqi reporter who threw his shoes at our former commander-in-chief for his crimes against humanity, I also bid adieu to the same with my own shoe throw, joining voices across the blogosphere who say "Adios, Dubya!" by throwing their virtual shoes today.

Welcome President Obama!

(I'm on the road today, so this is the best I can do for now. Go easy, Tiger.)

Just as I Suspected

In light of my last post, Jo brought this clip to my attention and I am more aware now than ever that it is vital I get my pantry whipped into shape. Why? Because a well-organized pantry is what keeps families together.

See for yourself.

Come to Jesus, Pantry Version

I am really chugging along on these New Year's resolutions. Maybe it is because if I don't, I will feel like a complete sitter-arounder after reading Chrissy and Sonnie's blogs. (Their lists of daily accomplishments are ridiculous! Example: "Today I did 900 sit-ups. Ran 47 miles. Read 8 books. Cooked gourmet meal from scratch. Invented the internet. Made two new friends. Slept 9 hours!") I mean, seriously, if I can't *at least* clean out the coffeemaker, make the bed, go to work, and occasionally take a few photos, then my friendship with those two amazing ladies would be overshadowed by a lingering cloud of shame.

So last night, I "decided" to work on my "Buy less, get rid of more," resolution. I must explain that calling it a resolution is really just a justification for this ongoing obsessive compulsive behavior. According to Matt, he has created a monster here because I, who once attached emotional value to worn out socks given as a present by someone I didn't like, under his tutelage, am now prepared to store the majority of my worldly goods in the trash. (I would also argue Jo contributed heartily by giving me the life-changing book Clear Your Clutter with Feng Shui. ) Despite this, however, I still have a pantry stocked with two different types of couscous, way too much evaporated milk, and a truly alarming amount of unsweetened baking cocoa. (Three different brands!)

I can partially blame the hurricane for the overstocking of my pantry (although I, as the elitist that I am, would *never* buy canned peas, Matt), but the fact is, I need to just accept my inability to remain calm in a grocery store and reign it in. (I was recently tested in a gourmet store in McAllen as I stood eyeball-to-eyeball with Late July-brand peanut butter crackers. God give me strength!) The best tool for accomplishing such a life transformation (and every kind of life transformation) is a hearty dose of Catholic guilt, but as an alternative, I also like neatly-typed lists.

So here is what I did. After returning from the grocery store with more alms to the pantry god, I took everything out, re-organized, and completely inventoried the whole thing, which I typed up by shelf and category (Top shelf: Liquor and Cereal--really) and posted on the inside of my pantry door (with a pencil for crossing off used items) so as to remind me of all the junk I need to consume before ever, ever considering another purchase of soup (seriously, four VARIETIES of cream of mushroom, people) or tea (at least 8 varieties and I don't even really drink tea!).

In the spirit of my other resolution (taking more pictures), I took photos of this transformation to post my shame publicly. Yet, because I have not yet received the new camera from another resolution, the photos look tobacco-stained, fuzzy, and even more depressing than you would think someone's overcrowded pantry would look. But my new camera arrives Friday (if UPS tells the truth), and my conversion to Old Mother Hubbard's ways begins now.

More Unmerited Praise!

I am really not sure why I occasionally achieve a very small amount of notoriety (and then immediately succeed in alienating all new readers in myriad ways, most often by not blogging), but I am always completely flattered by the attention.

I learned from my sitemeter that F-R was recently featured on Houstonist.com. Much thanks goes to longtime reader (and blog author)Brittanie, who I have somehow managed *not* to alienate after all these years. But thanks to all fans near and far who have kept F-R chugging along over the years and to any new readers (Hi Houston!) who may be coming my way. You are welcome!

What to Expect When You're Expecting... Your Car to Break Down

Alright, let's all just cross our hearts and kiss our elbows right now because Li'l Zippy (faithful steed!) is NOT going to break down anytime soon.

That said, with all the business travel and whimsical road trippin' I do, the old girl ain't what she used to be and I have to plan for the purchase of my future used car (I do not buy new cars--ask me why!). To that end, I have started to have wandering eyes to current new cars. Apparently, they haven't wandered that far though because if this is Lil Zippy...



this (the Toyota Venza) really must be Zippy in Space* or Mama Zippy or even Zippy Gets a Job.



What do you think? Matt says I can't get red again (due to constant run-ins with Nacogdoches police, who LOVE my car), so I'm mulling this over. Before you say anything you'll regret, please bear in mind that all my clothes are really just multi-colored versions of the same uniform, too. And also, I don't think this is the Venza's best angle. Does it look like it could stand to lose some weight or is that just me projecting? Oh dear. The similarities of the car contrasted with the different backgrounds have just caused some sad revelations in my life. But Zippy Sr. is not a mini-van, so bite your tongue and we'll just talk about this later, okay?

*I don't like to be shallow, but if possible, I prefer for my vehicles to look as much like spaceships as possible.

Bomb Thy Neighbor As Thyself

This morning, I was once again tuned in to Morning Edition (yes I am a listener-member, thank you! And so should you be.) As I was in my usual hazy stupor, I missed some of the details (and here we get in to modern jackass territory), but I distinctly heard that the Israelis offered whomever they were shooting at (all of the Gaza strip?) a three hour cease fire, so those being shoot-upon could go outside, get some fresh air, buy some groceries and heating oil and what not.

Now, I am all for the cessation of shooting upon all people (permanently, if possible), but don't you think this is kind of odd? I mean, whoever heard of warfare *with* mercy? I thought all was fair in war, grocery break or no grocery break. Maybe it's me, but in my opinion, it represents lack of commitment to the cause.

"Sure, we want you to die and be terrified and stuff, but everyone needs to take five occasionally. Here, have a kit kat."

Maybe it is for this reason that I don't understand amicable divorce. Either we hate each other or we don't. I'm sure it's not that black and white when you're in the thick of things, and especially if kids are in the mix, but I think if I loved someone enough to marry them, I would maybe have to hate them to make a permanent separation viable. Therefore, I conclude that since I rarely (never) use guns, if I actually committed to using guns and bombing people and stuff, I would go whole hog. No breaks! Bullets without ceasing! Where's the commitment, people?!

...Every Move You Make, I'll Be Judging You

Isn't it amazing how when you dislike someone intensely (yes! go my '09 resolutions!), everything they do becomes the object of your wrath, even if whatever it is is completely inconsequential?

Oh, that's just me? I have a problem you say?

Isn't it obnoxious when people who read your blog criticize you on your blog? Hee.

Anyhow, today I was having a conversation with Team (and Chrissy and Noonan) about how isn't it so annoying that a certain person doesn't like a certain movie, which as an aside, was critically acclaimed, winner of awards, and beloved by millions. Ahem. I ranted on and on about how on top of everything else, this person has the audacity to have tremendously bad taste in movies and food (especially food, my God!). Team set me straight and noted that had *she* said she didn't like that movie, I would have simply said "Oh, I'm surprised; I thought it was excellent," and thought no more about it instead of remaining incensed for the majority of the day (and still now, if you can't tell). I remember Erin telling me once that people are allowed to like what they like, and this is very true, but *I* am also allowed to judge them for it, especially when I feel they done me wrong.

Yes, I am suffering from "you done me wrong!" syndrome, in which I monitor every current move of the wrong-doing person, when possible, or if not possible, remark on every distasteful thing this person has done. That is to say, every single thing they have ever done EV.AR. And making an unnecessarily large deal out of it.

Sample conversation I just made up* in which I do this:
"Can you believe Person drives a CAR to work? I mean REALLY! He lives 1/2 mile from work."
"Well, I drive 1/2 mile to work because of the highway."
"Yes, but you have the highway. And you're nice. And rawr."
"Yes, well he's in a wheelchair. Can't you make an exception for him?"
"All the more reason he should roll it on over there! He done me wrong, etc..."

*Seriously, I made it up. I am not this awful...yet.

Typically, this affliction has been reserved for ex-boyfriends, but I do like to trot it out now and again after witnessing some really bad behavior that I refuse to suffer/when I am up for bathing in self-pity. Sometimes I think I'm still reeling from the text message break-up of yore (REALLY bad behavior, people), but other times I just elect myself Mayor of Comeuppance Township just because I am that way and I need to let go more. I really, truly do. Help me.

In the spirit of letting go, I now release this blog, illustrative of my own questionable behavior so you can all judge me. And then I will truly, truly attempt to cut the cancerous wrong-doer out of my life.

My Lord: cancerous?! I am a mess. Does my tongue spare nothing? On the bright side,I have now blogged twice this week, fulfilling 1/52 of 1/10 of my new year's resolutions. Woohoo!

My Slumbering Heart

I didn't forget you or my promise to blog more often*, but I am having a bit of a hard time snapping out of my vacation routine which began December 17 and only sort of came to a halt on January 5, with three brief interludes for work days on the 29-31. Also, Husby is still out of school for another couple of weeks, so instead of whipping me back into our whole early-to-bed routine following our holiday festivities, he has been complicit in my deleterious plans to read or watch tv on dvd until whatever hour I please. Consequently, I am sleeping until much later in the morning, long after Morning Edition has come on, causing me to blur news stories with reality in the dreams I am about to recount. And extreme work tardiness. Eep.

I am banking on this being entertaining to you, dear readers, even though I know very well that re-living someone's confusing stream-of-consciousness is typically reserved for arthouse films, which hipsters pay like $20 to see, but who are secretly thinking "Why is it important that he is only wearing one sock? I wonder if this place sells sour patch kids..."

Great. So lucky you. Feel free to enjoy sour patch kids at your home location and hey, keep your $20. You are welcome!

Our first dream finds me back in high school, which according to the scenery is actually a combination of my high school's campus, a boat dock, and a large sorority house with a sweeping staircase, strewn with items of ladies' clothing. Maybe it is the Facts of Life house, but Mrs. Garrett is nowhere to be seen. Anyhow, just as my high school peops and I are preparing for graduation (in the middle of the night), a group of masked gunmen come out and escort us, in our caps and gowns, down the broad staircase, across the campus on golf carts, and to the boat dock, where we have to sit on the benches and the gunmen look menacing. I am not sure if they are Israelis or Hamas, but they were definitely one of them (a detail which tipped me off to Morning Edition's integral role in this). Maybe it is because I never really know what either group is so upset about in real life. They're all angry. Anyhow, at some point, a girl I didn't like in high school took a group of other faceless high school people and snuck out in one of the golf carts without the gunmen seeing. And di they stay away? No, they went to the garden or hardware store and bought those gun-like hose nozzles that are yellow and came back. They pointed them at the gunmen and started screaming "Bang! Bang!" And they collapsed in a fit of hysterical laughter, as if this were some adorable prank. And I was REALLY, REALLY mad at them. I was so mad that I actually woke up mad and wondering why I was always forced into groups with idiotic pranksters. I don't actually know any idiotic pranksters, but if you're one, you better watch out before showing up in my dream.

I know you're still reading because of the highly entertaining nature of me, right? So here's dream two.

I dreamed I was in a fancy hotel in a high rise in a big city and the wall peeled away in a neat little ribbon (maybe it was windy?), but it sucked me out with it. I was in a bathrobe and suddenly found myself in the lobby and I didn't have my keys to get back into my room. The desk clerk sighed like she was so annoyed I was locked out because it was a hotel that uses real keys and she had to use these special magnets to let me back in. But I couldn't help getting sucked out of my room with the wall! And who keeps their room key in their bathrobe? I don't remember if the wall was there or not when I got back into the room, but I think it must have been because I looked out the window and saw Husby waving to me from the ground many stories below and he was wearing a vest like Marty McFly in Back to the Future.

So there you go. Draw your own conclusions, McFly! Are you sorry you asked me back, yet?

*I did apparently forget what my resolutions were though because I kept thinking how much I was kicking butt on the "Read 25 books this year" one, and then I realized it was Chrissy's resolution. Oh well. And the band read on...