Good Morning, Blogland!

Happy Sunday Morning from Station Jenn And The City - it's 7:42 and it's shaping up to be a lovely day. We'll have news, sports, and weather right after these messages from our sponsor:

Well hell. JATC doesn't have a sponsor. So the good news is, no commercial interruptions!

Your JATC weather this morning is a tad on the nippy side - the frost is definitely on the pumpkins, and we'll have to break out our Barnes and Noble cards to scrape the windows on the ole MDX if we want to go somewhere before noon.

Next in JATC traffic, the route from the bedroom to the kitchen is generally clear. The usual slowdown at the living room corner due to dog toys littering the floor isn't too bad today. Your kitchen to family room with a cup of coffee trip will see some minor slowdowns as the cats are out in full force trying to trip you.

In local news this morning, I'm surprised to report that Nike is actually up and out of bed before 8 a.m. And, once again, Tara declined to eat her whole breakfast.

In other news, my article for Dogs in Canada is nearly finished, which is a damn good thing because I have to work full time for the month of November. Special project, needs my help, blah, blah, blah.

JATC Sports is brought to you by oh that's right, I forgot, we don't have a sponsor.
Anyway, in sports today, we'll be cheering for...........

Breaking news, Tara is raiding the bathroom garbage, so we'll have to interrupt this broadcast to pry q-tips out of her mouth......good thing we don't have a sponsor, they'd be pissed.

And If Harry Wasn't Enough...

There is No Crying in Baseball, and there is no Eating Cheetos In Bed.....

Apologies to Harry Chapin...

To the tune of "Cat's In The Cradle"

And the Cat's In The Sink watching the bird-feeder....

The Tee Pee Fairy came to visit today....

When someone's comin' home, yeah, I don't know when....

But we'll have a good time then, yeah....

You know we'll have a good time then...

Where's Roald Amundsen When I Need Him....

Periodically, I find it necessary to plot an expedition through Maytag 2008 side-by-side refrigerator/freezer. Along with moss, lichen, algae and the occasional Emporer Penguin, there are almost always new and unusual treasures to be discovered.

The Jenn And The City family is prone to constant loss and rediscovery in the cold appliance continent. We currently have four or five containers of ranch dip. Not to be confused with two bottles of ranch dressing. They are almost outnumbered by the barbeque sauce. St. Rob just bought a new jar of sugar-free jelly yesterday, to accompany the two that are already in residence.

The crisper drawer is the coldest and loneliest portion of the desert. Most of the time four or five onions can be found thriving alongaside produce bags of unidentifiable green mush. I can identify the black mush, that's the remains of a long-forgotten avocado half.

Half-finished bottles of Gatorade G2 dot the landscape. I'm not sure where these come from or when they leave. I've never seen anyone actually get a used bottle out of the fridge. Protocol says that no matter how many opened bottles occupy the fridge, one must get a new one out of the island cabinet. (The empties seem to all find their way to Nick's bedroom).

Leftovers always promptly migrate to the back of the fridge, where they can hide, camouflaged and forgotten until their odor gives them away. "What IS that smell"? It's just spaghetti, circa 1999.

So, every week or so, Jenn And The City breaks out her GPS, a Hefty Bag and a team of Malamutes and endeavors to conquer the Maytag continent. Wish me luck. I do not want to suffer the fate of the Scott Expedition.

Today on Fourth Avenue

Okay, city driving morons. The big truck with the lights and the sirens and the noisy horn? Move OVER when it comes up behind you. Fourth is a one-way street, pulling to the side of the road isn't that complicated - there isn't even a double yellow line to fuss about.

And pedestrians. For God's sake, if you hear a siren and see a big flashy truck bearing down on you, it DOESN'T matter whether the little walking man is lit up or not. You do NOT have the right-of-way in this situation.

Some judgment here peeps!

A Fish Called Ringo

For those who believe John and Barack are the only U.S. presidential election options, allow Cheryl, from The Daily Blonde to introduce you to Bud, the Maverick Drunken Fish. Bud has mounted a ferocious and competitive presidential campaign, funded primarily by donations from fabulous bloggistas with lip gloss and really great pedicures. Move over, hockey moms.

Always looking for a good cause to support, Jenn And The City nominated Ringo the Lonely Goldfish for the post of Bud's Press Secretary. Ringo has forsaken the private sector to establish a name for himself in the national political arena. Ringo's well qualified. He's the sole remaining survivor of a famous and highly successful quintet. He lost his brother Paul in the infamous "fish-fry incident" shortly after the de-regulation of aquarium heaters. Brothers John and George died soon after from unknown, but suspicious causes. Ringo and his remaining brother, Barney, were constant companions until Barney's suicidal leap across the kitchen floor earlier this year.

At any rate, Ringo's nabbed himself the Press Secretary job. He'll be releasing a statement soon. If you have any questions for Bud regarding his political platform, kindly leave a comment on Bud's site. Don't forget to vote for VP while you are there, and maybe give Cheryl some love about her knee.

I'd Like to Buy a Vowel...

Someone needs to take the Seattle School District back to kindergarten. It came to my attention this morning that there is no longer an "F" grade. A few years back, for whatever socio-political correct reason, the "F" grade was abolished in favor of an "E" grade.

While this makes sense from an alphabetical perspective, does it really matter what letter comes after D?

Turns out the "E" grade also was abolished soon after its inception in favor of an "N" grade. Recently, the "N" was found to be a violation of district policy, so they're bringing back the "E".

In this case, why give a grade at all. Leave it blank. Blank can just mean, "you sucked at Language Arts, better find a career where you don't need tu no how tu spel".

Would you like a vowel with your Big Mac?

Blah-g

I like to be funny. Cheerful, light-hearted. Plays in mud puddles, you know. Poignant is not my thing. Unless I can laugh about it too.

My friend D is in the hospital. The food sucks, but she's doing the Sleeping Beauty coma thing, so she doesn't care. She ought not still be in the hospital, but that's what happens when you go for routine surgery and there are "difficulties" with the anesthesia. I'm sorry, but "difficulties" with the anesthesia to me means that I need two shots of Novacain, not that I will still be in the f*cking hospital three weeks later in a coma.

I do not like this. In fact, it makes me downright grumpy. And sad, angry, frightened, pissed off, sick to my stomach, and anxious. I cannot begin to imagine how D's family feels. Especially her daughter. Who must be, I think, 12 or 13.

You are too young to die, D. We'd like to have your 40th birthday party so I can make YOU run around with the stupid black "over the hill" balloon tied to your wrist.

Wake up, sweetie. Please.

Baggage....

So, as mentioned previously, I've been tagged by Cheryl at The Daily Blonde, to reveal the contents of my handbag.


The rules are this:


Find a safe quiet place free of significant others, nosey meme makers, priests, nuns, all things religious and men in general. (If you're a guy just reverse this process to male and tell us about your wallet, tool box, briefcase or metro sexual accessory.)
1. Dump the contents of your handbag in a pile
2. Take a photo of your handbag and the contents
3. Be brave and explain to your fellow bloggers what lurks inside the handbag.
4. Tag others who might want to embarrass themselves
5. Answer these questions:
Describe the contents of your handbag.
What's the most important thing in your handbag?
What's the most embarrassing thing in your handbag?
What's the smallest thing in your handbag?Is there anything illegal in your handbag?


Well, allrighty then.









Welcome to my Tumi laptop carrying case. Purchased simply because everything but the kitchen sink fit in it, and still it looked relatively chic.



Clockwise from the left are:

1. Receipts from my last work trip to Bend, Oregon


2. The fabulous Paolo Jenn And The City Shoes worn to work today. I hate them. My feet may never be the same.


3. My never-part-with snake skin wallet; and on top of that....


4. Simply to spite Cheryl - my debit card.


5. purespring Vanilla Cream hand cream, don't leave home without it. It also takes the frizzies right out of your naturally curly hair....


6. My Starbucks spring-themed personal travel coffee thingy. What do you call those anyway? It's not a mug. It isn't a cup. It's a travel.....container for hot beverages.


7. A baggie. What can I say. I have dogs. Baggies are as much a part of my world as Huggies are for a Mommy.....


8. My blue silk scarf, purchased at a little boutique on Marion Street. Fashionista accessory and protection against the elements all in one.


9. US Weekly Magazine, cleverly hidden beneath the New Yorker. Who says you gotta choose? My note pad for writing ideas is on top.


10. Dell Latitude D630. My friend the laptop. Still having serious error issues, but functional all the same. You are my rock, my friend.


11. My Blackberry, my Dell travel mouse, a barette, and a pink Breast Cancer Awareness pin.


12. A first-aid kit. Don't leave home alone.


13. My little travelling camera, for those impromptu moments.


14. My bus pass and security badge. Part of the cards were chewed off by Tara.


15. An inhaler. In case I try to die of asthma sometime in the work-day. Now, there's a thought....


16. Lip-gloss (Neutrogena "Tickled"), lip-balm (Blistex Silk n Shine) and a carabiner. Lips are high maintenance. No telling what the carabiner is for.


17. A multi-ink pen, with choices of green, black, red, and blue ink. Handy for marking dog show catalogs. Not much else.


18. A handful of loose change I didn't know I had. Now why isn't there a $20 in there when you want it.

What is normally in my handbag, and missing from above, is this:

My keys are in the freezer on the Dreyers Capuccino Chip again. Not sure I can get my car out tomorrow, and tonight is soccer night.

The most important thing is clearly Dell Latitude D630. Can't live without my laptop.

The most embarrasing thing is.....a toss up - US Weekly? The baggie? Screw it, I'm not apologizing for anything.

The smallest thing is the breast cancer pin. That's a bit sad, isn't it.

Click on the breast cancer link on my page to support mammograms.

I tag:

Patience (when she returns from her fabulous trip)

Amelia (who's also on sabbatical, she'll get over it)

Just A Girl (because I'm dying to know what's in her bag....)

That'll do, for now. Cheryl, better send everyone back, since this took so danged long. It wasn't my fault, honest - damn clients wanting me to work all day.....

J

Tagged...

AAACCCKKKKK!

I've been tagged by Cheryl at "The Daily Blonde" to expose the contents of my handbag for the world to see.

Since I'm working this week, I toss my wallet into my computer bag, so I guess I'll have to do the contents of it. Not fair, since it's twice the size of my purse!

Stay tuned for the photo and explanation later today after my work crisis du jour, or tonight if the the cdj lasts all day.

Thanks a bunch Cheryl....

Dogma. That I Have.

We're already familiar with my lack of Car-ma. In fact, on my way home from Canada tonight, my friendly local U.S. Customs and Immigration Official made a point of asking me what I hit to cause the rust colored scrapes on the side of my car. I refrained from my "oh some guy with a cane that wouldn't get out of my way" answer (cleverly dreamed up for me by some of my friends).

Instead, I sat at the border and explained my lack of Car-ma to the agent on duty. He needed some comic relief, and in spite of the fact that I'd just spent an hour waiting while he grilled everyone ahead of me, I did my civic duty and provided him with his laugh for the day.

That's just me, anything I can do to make your day. Including making myself a laughingstock.

Still in reasonably good humor, I chose to take the Long and Winding Road home from Canada. 75 miles on the back roads instead of hitting the freeway. It's a pleasant country road, I don't have to work tomorrow, and it was something different to do. No particular reason for making this choice other than that. By the time I got close to home though, I was getting a bit tired and a little brain-dead. Dang me and my great ideas!

About five miles from home I found myself at another fork in the road. Stay on Main Long and Winding Road, or take Winding Road Around The Lake. For some reason I'll never know, I chose the Lake option.

It's still a busy road, with a county speed limit. I zipped around a corner and slammed on my brakes to avoid hitting a German Short-haired Pointer bitch cavorting along down the middle of my lane. She looked up at me, and then proceeded off into the ditch to hunt whatever she happened to smell next.

We live in the country. Loose dogs abound. But even though I was tired and hazy, something didn't add up with this one. I pulled over, put on my flashers to warn the on-coming traffic and got out to go get her. She did have a collar, but I couldn't catch her. She thought about coming to me, and then spooked off to a nearby house. I followed her up hoping she was going home, but she stood on the porch and barked at me. I didn't want to go to the door and scare her more, so I stood in the driveway talking to her. Looking to the backyard, I could see that it was enclosed with six foot chain link fence. If this was her house, she clearly wasn't supposed to be walkabout on the road.

The woman who came out turned white as a sheet when I explained what had happened. The front door was left ajar by accident. She hadn't realized the dog was gone until she heard the barking on the porch. Isn't it funny how sometimes you're just in the right place at the right time?

So I got in two good deeds today. Hopefully that make up for the car-ma.

Blog Botox

My apologies for the plain jane version of Jenn And The City. I'm working on some formatting upgrades. Stay tuned!

C-Note

Welcome to my one-hundredth blog post. I think that calls for a celebration of some sort.

I'd like to have cake, but in spite of Helga I really can't afford the indulgence.

There's not going to be a bunch of party games. Party games strike me as fundamentally evil - how did whacking the effigy of an innocent animal or stabbing an ass in the ass with a thumb tack come to be considered celebratory?

Guess that leaves champagne. Except I don't happen to have any Dom Perignon kicking around. And my tummy's still a little queasy.

So lets all toast blog number one-hundred with a nice glass of fine Canada Dry ginger ale. And a big thank you to all five of my loyal readers! Loves ya!

Who Needs Ice Cubes...?

My view of life lies somewhere where Holly Golightly meets Alice in Wonderland scented with a whiff of Harriet the Spy. Believing six impossible things before breakfast at Tiffany's while watching the world go by perched in a tree with binoculars.

I do have a point here. My car keys are in the freezer. Like Audrey and her shoe, "keys in freezer" makes perfect sense to me. I put them there. Deliberately and with purpose.

If you were to ask me why my keys are in the freezer, I would explain "because it is Wednesday". Except I've got flannel p.j.'s and a laptop sitting in bed instead of a gorgeous sheath dress and amazing hat on my way to Sing Sing. Life just never manages to imitate art the way you want it to.

At any rate, here's the Jenn And The City logic behind the frozen rabbit's foot. Remember my lack of Car-ma story. I have issues with getting my car out of the driveway without hitting the fence. So I need help with that bit. And Thursdays I need to leave early. On Wednesday nights, Rob has soccer. He won't be home until I'm asleep. So when he comes home, he'll go for his Dreyer's Yogurt-blend Cappucino Chip, and find my car keys there. Then I'll get my car turned round.

See, simple.

Except life down the rabbit hole never quite works out that way. Holly didn't have a non-driving 16-year old with a job at the corn maze. One who needs a ride home at 9 p.m. Necessitating her to reverse her own damn car out the driveway.

And I didn't hit anything either.