WanderingAmylessly 2.0

I LOVE MY CAR!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm not one who often meets famous people. I could count off on one hand the number of well-known, pseudo-important, or even mildly infamous individuals with whom I've come in contact. Actress and weight-loss-product hawker Kirstie Alley frequented the Wichita, Kansas, hair salon where I worked in college (because she grew up in the town -- a little trivia for you). I once interviewed Wally Schirra , one of the original Mercury 7 astronauts and the only person to fly in all of America's first three space programs (when he visited Atchison, Kansas, in 1997 during the celebration of what would've been Amelia Earhart's 100th birthday). I've got a six degrees of Kevin Bacon separation thing going between myself and Dennis Rader, aka BTK the serial killer (friends, relatives, former coworkers, distant acquaintances who all knew him). I scored a smile and autograph from Andy Chapman in sixth grade; the brash British soccer player on Wichita's Major Indoor Socce

There's a party goin' on right here A celebration to last throughout the years So bring your good times, and your laughter too We gonna celebrate your party with you... I don't want to get ahead of myself. I haven't actually seen it yet. But from what I was told by the guy on the phone I'M GETTING MY CAR BACK TODAY!!!!!!

From the National Weather Service, Quad Cities: A BLIZZARD WARNING REMAINS IN EFFECT FROM 9 AM THIS MORNING TO 9 PM CST THIS EVENING. A STRONG ARCTIC COLD FRONT WILL SWEEP THROUGH THE AREA AROUND SUNRISE. VERY STRONG WINDS OF 25 TO 40 MPH WITH GUSTS TO 50 MPH WILL GRADUALLY COMBINE WITH 1 TO 2 INCHES OF NEW SNOW TO CREATE WIDESPREAD BLOWING SNOW. LOCALLY HIGHER AMOUNTS NEAR 3 INCHES ARE POSSIBLE. THIS WILL RESULT IN EXTENDED PERIODS OF WHITE OUT CONDITIONS...ESPECIALLY IN OPEN AND RURAL AREAS. TEMPERATURES WILL RAPIDLY FALL TO BELOW ZERO BY SUNSET AND COMBINED WITH THE STRONG WINDS... DANGEROUS WIND CHILLS OF 10 TO 30 BELOW ZERO ARE EXPECTED. ANYONE STRANDED OUTSIDE WILL BE AT RISK OF THEIR LIFE WITHOUT PROPER PROTECTION.

The sunshine smiled on us today. As did whatever force of nature was responsible for our 55 glorious degrees, the calm winds, and the rapidly disappearing snow. But what oh what did we do to deserve tomorrow's agony?! High of 34 early, dropping like an anvil (onto our heads as though we were Wile E. Coyote himself), gale force winds blowing and drifting whatever snow is expected to dump all over us. Tomorrow night's low? -10 My brain is frostbitten just imagining. So I'm escaping. If only to my virtual portal to tropical island wonderment. You can too. Click here for a directory of popular beachcams from such places (and their forecast high temps for tomorrow) as: St. Croix -- 81 Nassau -- 74 St. Lucia -- 82 Cayman Islands -- 80 Aruba -- 86 (but it'll feel like 92) And take heart. Only about 120 days until Iowa's average high temp reaches 80 degrees. (I hope you live farther south than I do.)

This was our first "baby," Ansel. Tim ran across this photo of him and me when he was sorting through old photo CDs, taken in late '99 or early '00. Makes me smile. And makes me sad. I miss him so much. Edited to note that, no, I do not have a screamin' case of dandruff. We lived in the mountains in Utah; it was snowing.

I thought it was funny when a former co-worker used to sing the little tune when talking about the amorous adventures of a mutual friend. We found it hysterical when Alvin, of Alvin and the Chipmunks, belted it out during Dave's date in the 2007 movie. But there's something very disturbing about hearing the tune escaping from a 4-year-old's mouth over and over and over. Especially when it's MY 4-year-old. The song, you ask? Think '70s disco porno soundtrack. "Bowm-chicka-wah-wah" I'm not sure if this translates to blogpost without some sort of audio/visual example. We'll have to work on taping H doing it (or NOT). Until then, I've included a video clip from youtube. I had no idea this was such a cultural phenomenon...

So there's this nutjob (and truly, I think he's certifiable) holyroller Baptist guy in Kansas who spouts hatred for just about everyone on the planet, who takes it upon himself to recruit a bunch of lemming-like followers to help him spew forth his putred bile. I'm not mentioning him, nor am I mentioning the nasty phrases about whom God hates that his bunch plaster all over their picket signs. I will mention that the rumor is, they're planning to picket at Heath Ledger's funeral, no doubt because (among the numerous projects he worked on) he made one award-winning movie about a beautiful, unconventional love story that broke barriers and touched hearts worldwide. They've decided to use this man's death as a pulpit for their pious, self-righteous, hate-mongering bullshit. How very...Christian...of them. Keep in mind these are the same people who have picketed the funerals of little girls who died in a school bus crash and soldiers killed in Iraq. So to that

Do Britney and I have something in common? She can allegedly sing; I can most definitely not. She has horrible taste in men; I married a devoted sweetie. She goes commando; I remain silent on the subject. But if we're to believe the tabloid psychobabble, the wacky pop princess and I may be sisters in the mental health sense. See, the headlines keep screaming, "Bipolar Brit," and who's to say they're wrong. Even Dr. Phil thinks she needs her head examined, in speedy fashion. Attendees of the annual winter conference of the American Psychoanalytical Association urge the media (through a CNN story) to be responsible and stop speculating about this woman's disturbing behavior. But when you go out in public and flash your bare nether regions for the paparazzi, chomp gum like the hillbilly you are, fail to show up for custody hearings, refuse to give your kids back to their custodial parent (even if it IS K-FED), shave your head, whomp up on someone's car with a

I'm not going to lie to you. This is typically something I'd poke a ridiculous amount of fun at. Picture it: girl in a skimpy purple getup, twirling her batons, vying for a chance at a crown and that elbow-elbow-wrist-wrist wave. But for the first time, I actually know a Miss America contestant. And she's anything but a ditz. Miss Iowa Diana Reed -- who served as the Hawkeyes' Golden Girl dance twirler during football halftime performances from 2002-2007 -- graduated from the UI Tippie College of Business in 2007 with the highest academic grade-point average in her college's graduating class. Last night, her skills and poise helped her win the preliminary talent show on the first night of competition at the 2008 Miss America contest at Planet Hollywood Resort & Casino in Las Vegas. A new Miss America will be crowned this Saturday night. I remember interviewing Diana for a recruitment brochure during her freshman year. So bubbly, so eager to learn and grow, so pa

I suppose no news from Hollywood should come as a shock these days. But the headlines this afternoon made me gasp. And then feel very, very sad. So much potential...lost. One story pointed out that two years ago at this time, Heath Ledger was an Oscar nominee. Today he's dead, surrounded by a bunch of pills and innuendo. The 28-year-old left behind a child, an ex, various friends and family, and a legion of fans who mourn not only the loss of a talented person but of a wealth of possibility and promise. It's one of those tragic Hollywood "endings" becoming tired and quite typical. What a shame. There are places we can't return. There are truths we can't deny. These are two sentiments taken from a Brokeback Mountain trailer and a fitting way to say goodbye. Along with a last look at great work...

Maybe one that's just partial to the East Coast. Wow. That game just utterly sucked. Favre's back to his old tricks again...not happy unless he's completing passes to the other team. Tim suggested he kept trying the long passes in desperate hopes of getting a quick TD, so he could go sit his frozen butt on a heated seat on the sideline. Brett might be a reckless passer, but he's no dummy. He's not going to be a Super Bowl participant this time around, either. And he actually might be a dummy. (He was named a lot of other things tonight in the bar and in the car on the way home that I won't repeat here because my Mommy reads my blog.) Well...there's always next year. Who are the Chiefs getting in the draft?

It's 10 below zero. It's supposed to snow later today. But my honey and I are braving the elements. We've hired a babysitter for the evening, and we're going out. Hot date. Drinks. Dinner. Entertainment. Oh geez. Who am I kidding. It's not most women's idea of romantic. We're bellying up to the sports bar with some wings and suds, in front of the big-screen TV to watch the Packers in the NFC Championship. I've always been a reluctant Chiefs fan. They always let me down. They never make it all the way. They have that dumb and not-at-all-politically-correct tomahawk chop thing going on. I'm totally fair weather in Chiefs fandom. My husband, on the other hand, is a lifelong cheesehead. He, literally, has a cheesehead -- one of those yellow foam chunks of dairy product that he plans to take with us to the bar and parade around in public proudly wearing. (I did buy him the cheesehead one year, but you need to go easy on me. I was maneuvering strategically

When the wind chill dips below negative-20-degrees fahrenheit, you put on an extra sweater and pair of socks, grab the lap throw, cuddle up in front of the telly and snarf comfort food. I've just discovered my new favorite comfort nosh, courtesy of culinary cutiepie Rachael Ray. Because half the world's in the deep-freeze right now, I thought I'd share. One bite and you'll fall in love. And don't expect to stop with one small bowl. (And don't get hung up if you can't find fresh sage or other such ingredients...I got away with using the plain old dried seasonings and they worked fine. Just experiment with the measuring amounts -- and don't over-salt, because the sausages pack quite a sodium punch.) Spicy Sausage, Chicken and Bean Pot Every Day with Rachael Ray September 2007 FOUR SERVINGS (or more) Ingredients 2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil (EVOO) 3/4 pound bulk hot Italian sausage 3/4 pound Andouille sausage, cut on an angle into 1-inch lengt

We've all heard the media refer to Bennifer -- the doomed pairing of Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez. Or to Scientology sweeties TomKat -- Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes. Or how about Brangelina -- insanely beautful beings Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie. Daytime dramas seem to have adopted this name game for each of their most popular couplings. For example, Lumi combines Days of our Lives' supercouple Lucas Roberts and Sami Brady. Nuke refers to As the World Turns' kissyface boys Noah Mayer and Luke Snyder. Even the nighttime sitcom, The Office, spawned a couple couples with smushed-together monikers -- Jam for Jim and Pam, and Dwangela for Dwight and Angela. What I'd really like to know is exactly when this became such an obsession, this morphing two into one, the vowel-and-consonant version of a liplock. In a quest to find out, I discovered the phenomenon has a name and has been occurring at least as far back as Lewis Carroll's Through The Looking-Glass -- mid to late

She didn't want to see his scones. But he revealed them to her. Right there in the middle of an Eastern Iowa Starbucks. In an effort to identify the heavyset 40- to 50-ish-year-old, white male who exposed himself to a 17-year-old girl inside the coffee shop on Jan. 8, police have released a still photo from a security camera. Is no place sacred? Minding your own business, reading a good book, looking up to take a sip of your grande non-fat extra hot extra shot cinnamon dolce latte with no whip...to see some fat guy's stir stick staring you in the face? Enough to make me switch to Folgers from my own 10-cup automatic drip Braun.

I just spoke with one of "the 14." I didn't even know what that meant until last night, while I was doing some research online for an interview scheduled for this morning with UI Theatre Department's head of acting, John Cameron. John has written a play titled, "14," about 14 gay students at Brigham Young University in the mid-1970s who were subjected to electroshock treatments -- so called "reparative therapy" experiments -- in an effort to "cure" them of their "homosexual condition." Although BYU's Mormon leaders have denied that this kind of experimentation ever took place, John knows that the barbaric treatment indeed occurred. Because it happened to him. I was actually interviewing him for a completely unrelated feature I'm writing, profiling the UI Theatre's undergrad program, for a national theatre magazine. But I couldn't help asking a few questions about his new play -- which opens Jan. 31 on the UI mai

I think they should do a poll. A survey. I'm not even sure who "they" are, but I'd just like to know what percentage of time most people's toilet paper spends actually on the little spinny roll fastened to the wall. I'd guess about 97 percent of the time ours sits on the bathroom countertop. Are we too lazy to place it in its correct spot? Do we just not get enough squeezing-the-Charmin time if it's on the dispenser? Or maybe we really enjoy reaching for our toothpaste or our glasses or our hair brush in the morning and accidentally knocking a whole roll of toilet paper into...the toilet. We must love that. Because we've done it at least twice in the last week. The first time, it got fished out of the toilet and plopped into the trash can. The second time, I threw it directly into a plastic bag (along with the one that was still in the trash and had developed a nice blue, fuzzy mold along one edge) and slammed it all in the big garbage. And then I made

I added a blog site to my favorite links recently, but I hadn't written about it because I was waiting to see whether the blogger would continue to add. He had a shaky track record -- specifically, a Tour de France blog that sorta fizzled after a few posts. But I cut him some slack, since, really, how much can one write about spokes and spandex and doping that hasn't already been written? That and the fact he'd be much more likely to actually go outside and ride his own bike rather than huddle in front of a computer screen and blab about other riders. This new blog is different. It serves as an online gallery to feature his outstanding photography. I'm completely biased, but I'm not the only one to deem his work impressive. During his career, he has won big-time awards (including one where he beat a National Geographic shooter) and been honored by a panel of world-class photographers teaching at a workshop he attended. He has an eye for finding the extraordinary in

End of January. That's the latest guesstimate for when I might get my car back from the body shop. Want to hear the latest excuse for why it's taking weeks and weeks longer than it was supposed to, to repair $3,200 -- strike that -- $6,500-and-counting in damages from my December run-in with the uninsured Floridian? Some frame-measuring equipment necessary to repair my vehicle just happened to break. They had to order a new one. Meantime, my partial shell of a car sat there motionless on the garage floor with its guts ripped out and its sheet metal exposed. (I know that because I made the mistake of asking to get into it to retrieve something last week and could barely eat for the rest of the day. It was like seeing a loved one's chest split wide for open heart surgery.) This was on top of two previous delays when they "whoa" found a lot more damage than expected. One of those "whoa"s required removal of the motor. All coming back to you now? This latest

Longtime readers of Wandering Amylessly surely remember the story of Little Will , the 1 pound-ish baby of friends of ours who was born too soon due to health complications with Mom (that, we learned later, could have stolen her away from us, too) and was with us only a few short months. I think about Will a lot, usually when other friends tell us they're expecting or let us know when their healthy babies arrive. I think about him because I realize how quickly things can go a different way, how all those hopes and dreams and expectations -- born with a positive pregnancy test of people who so desperately want to see the plus -- can turn to uncertainty, despair and loss. When I think of Will, I hug my own boy. Lucky doesn't begin to describe it. Sure, all kids can be challenging and nerve-wracking, and don't get me wrong, when Henry argues or sticks out his tongue at me or hauls off and whacks me occasionally, I don't let it slide. I don't know which is getting more

Name five words that can evoke great joy in hearts and minds and at the same time strike fear in thighs, butts and waistlines everywhere. You know them. You love them. You crave them. "IT'S GIRL SCOUT COOKIE TIME!" Click here to vote for your favorite. Hey, typing, clicking, scrolling -- it probably burns a few calories. Burn them where you can. Two Caramel Delights have 7 grams of fat. And those aren't even whole cookies. They have a big hole like a donut in the middle (as an aside, one glazed dunkin donut has 10 grams). And really, who can stop at two. Those caramel-coconut-ooey-gooeys have some sort of confectioner heroin in them. I signed up for one box. Of Caramel Delights. I, of course, also ordered a box of the peanut butter patties and a box of peanut butter sandwiches. Thank you Miss Annika (my elementary school-age "supplier"). But I'm sure we won't stop there. It's amazing how, the older you get, the more Girl Scouts you know. I guess

He drank half the pool, which is easy to do when your mouth is open the whole time because you're giggling your guts out. He found his new goggles more fascinating than anything because their tinted lens color turns the whole world blue (which means the pool probably looks like the Ti-dee-bowl man came to visit). A twenty-minute lesson goes pretty fast. Especially when he spent a great deal of it talking about how Dash (his imaginary friend, based on the character in The Incredibles) was also taking swim lessons. As we were leaving the pool, he asked, "When is it going to be Thursday again?" Overall, two thumbs up to Henry's first official swim lesson. Or should I give it a numeral score with degree of difficulty? Maybe that's only diving. Two laps up? Two speedos up? No...that might mean something entirely different. Let's just say he had fun and didn't drown. Celebrate the basics.

Men have a lot of junk that they shove in their pockets. Change. Wads of dollar bills. Receipts. Mints and other assorted small snackies. Keys. Phone. Wallet. Is that a load of stuff in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me? More importantly, is that load of stuff affecting the way you walk, sit, exist? There's a reason why women carry a bag to put it all in. I never understood the need of men to act all low-maintenance, when they have just as much crap as we do. They just turn themselves into martyrs of testosterone. My husband suffers from such an affliction. Which is why he suggested, in December, right before Christmas, that he could really use a "man bag." OOH! Brilliant present idea, right?! I searched and searched the 'Net for just the right bag. And came up with a brown leather bag that looks a little like one of those newfangled one-shoulder backpacks. Sporty black woven strap. Lots of pockets and zippers and such. Smelled like a dead cow. What could b

We joked that H was "our little fish" when we were on vacation at the lake this summer. He loved propelling himself off the dock and into the water (and Daddy's arms) again and again and again. Of course, he did it with his life vest on. On Thursday, we'll relocate to an indoor pool at a local hotel, sans vest, and see what his reaction will be. That's when he starts swim lessons through a program run by a former University swim coach. They're one-on-one lessons -- very exciting for Mom, who was more than a bit hesitant to sign up her only child for lessons at the local rec center, where one teenaged teacher has charge of (aka absolutely no control over) four or more crazed little demons. Squealing preschoolers plus a body of water = disaster waiting to happen. We've put gymnastics on hold to try swimming for a while. H was hesitant last night when I asked if he wanted to start swimming this week. He mentioned his gymnastics teachers, hemmed and hawed a bi

This is the snowman my husband and son made yesterday, when we finally inched up out of the deep freeze enough to get the snow to stick together properly. It is also the model for a couple of my recent knitting projects. I'll agree -- not exactly the greatest venue for showing off work. And they don't match -- the stripes in the hat are black, whereas the scarf is navy blue. What a fashion fiasco. Call Mr. Blackwell!!!

I should've had my car back by now. In fact, I should've had my car back before Christmas. Instead, there's a big fat question mark as to when I'll get it back. Sometime after they REMOVE THE MOTOR AND TRANSMISSION to replace the RIGHT HALF OF MY CAR. Turns out, every time they moved something to replace or repair it, they found more damage. The $3,000-and-change price tag for repairs has creeped up to over $6,500. The auto body guy says my car is the talk of the shop. Everyone knows my name. No one can believe how much damage occurred from what appeared to be a minor fender bender. Murphy's Law's at work here, somewhere, what with the guy being from Florida -- land of no ice -- and sliding his big hunk of steel pickup truck on a slick intersection into my car while not having valid insurance. Then there was the disturbing fact that the auto body guy said four, count 'em, four times: "I cannot believe your airbags didn't go off." I think I feel

The Democratic Party has never been healthier. Just look at the vigorous presidential primary we've got on our hands. Right now, every one of the Democratic campaigns is working around the clock to become our nominee, and any of them would be a great choice. But when the dust settles and people like you pick our nominee, the real challenge will begin. This time, though, it won't be a debate of ideas with fellow Democrats. It will be against a Republican machine eager to redeem its losses in 2006, fighting to extend George Bush's policies for another four years. Stand up and show our candidates, our opponents, and the country just how strong the Democratic Party is by joining me in a pledge to support the Democratic candidate for President in 2008 - no matter who wins. When we have a nominee, they'll know that thousands of Democrats from across the country are united - even if they may not have supported them in the primary. Click to Get United Every one of the Republica

It was basically an Obama/Clinton showdown in our caucus. The surprise: Richardson had more people than Edwards. Neither group was viable. In the end, Barack got 6 delegates, Hillary got 3. Tim joined us in the Hillary camp at the end. So all's well in our household tonight. :-) And if you understood any of that technical caucus mumbojumbo voting stuff I just spouted, and you're not from Iowa, congratulations. Because I participated, and I'm not quite sure I understand the viability stuff. It involves math. 'Nuff said. So now we wait...

If you're still unsure about who to support in the upcoming election, take a quiz. (And fear not, the testing has nothing to do with No Child Left Behind.) The one at Political Base is just one of about 400,000 out there on the net, but it reinforced my decision...I "match up well" with Hillary. If it makes you feel good, though, Tim, there was only one percentage point difference between her and Richardson.

The GOP and the Dems in Iowa got together to create a logo, celebrating our "first in the nation" caucus status. Might just be the only thing everyone agrees on. On a related note, I woke up this morning to find this in our yard: Right next to the sign supporting my candidate, which I promptly moved to the other side of our yard.

Iowans for Hillary -- Please Caucus for Change, 6:30 p.m. Thursday, Jan. 3, 2008

Just to clear up any confusion, to those friends and relatives who recently received our holiday letter and decided to check out my blog -- You're in the right place. You, however, may note that I am, from time to time, somewhat of a, hmmm, how best to put it... Highly feminist-ey, radical liberal, and unashamedly committed to a world where everyone hugs, holds hands, sings kum-ba-yah, gets married to whomever they want, and has control of their own minds and bodies. And I'm also not kidding when I say I may adopt the maple leaf and sing Oh Canada if the election doesn't go my way come November. I realized this might be a little shocking to some of you (or maybe not so much, as I've also occasionally been known to be an opinionated big mouth). I'm not apologizing for anything. If you don't agree, we could duke it out. Or we could just continue to talk about the weather. How about we do that. It's 4 degrees outside right now. Brrr. And you?

From www.hillaryclinton.com... Hillary's historic statement at the United Nations Conference on Women in Beijing in 1995 that "women's rights are human rights" still echoes worldwide. As a lawyer, advocate, First Lady, and senator, Hillary has fought for issues important to women here at home and around the world for decades. Today, despite the progress women have made, they earn only 77 cents for every dollar men earn -- and women of color earn even less. Hillary is leading the charge in the Senate to strengthen equal pay laws and end pay disparities between men and women. She introduced the Paycheck Fairness Act to strengthen the penalties associated with wage discrimination, to ensure that the federal government sets a higher standard, and to increase oversight of employers. Hillary has also worked to increase access to capital and other support for women-owned businesses. When it comes to each woman's ability to make the most personal of life decisions, Hilla

"Boogers are green things that live inside your nose and hang on to all the germs that make you sick." -- Henry, offering a distinct definition, for no apparent reason whatsoever

"I made no resolutions for the New Year. The habit of making plans, of criticizing, sanctioning and molding my life, is too much of a daily event for me." -- Anais Nin