There is...a house...in New Orleans...

...they call

The Risin' Sun

....

Nothin written in stone yet, but we're sorta...kinda...plannin a honeymoon trip. Finally.

I suppose it should be called an anniversary trip, since it will be a year. Or it could be called Ziggy's birthday trip. Or we could just call it a plain, ole vacation.

*I* choose to call it a honeymoon. Especially since we didn't have one.

If we do go, we're headin back to 'Nawlins to the Villa Convento. We were there over Halloween in...what?...2003...or 04. Whenever it was, it was BK. Before Katrina.

I can hear it now.

"New Orleans??? In AUGUST??? WTF? Are you nuts?"

Probably.

I was there once in August too, and yea...it was pretty...steamy. But...damn! Who cares? We'll get off-season rates on the lodging. It won't be crowded. And our favorite little outdoor bar down by the French Market has a roof and ceiling fans.

Besides that, I figure they could use our tourist bucks (paltry though they may be) more than any other place I can think of.

New Orleans is one of my most favorite places. The people. The food. The climate. The diversity. The whole...ambience of the city. It's my kinda place.

Unfortunately, I doubt if I'll get a chance to kick Ray Nagin in the balls while we're there.

One can always hope, though.

Thump....thump....THUMP!...thump-thump-thump...

...thumpity-thumpity-THUMP!

Summer Camp

is here.

And we're just a blacktop road, a railroad track and a four-lane expressway across from it.

Can't complain much, though. We didn't have a bit of trouble last year, though the neighbors tell us there have been times when it was hot when "campers" have come through the yards to jump in the river to cool off. Don't think we'll have that problem this weekend, though it IS supposed to be beautiful tomorrow and Sunday.

As for the thumpity-thumping...a strong bass is all I can hear of the music tonight. 'Course, the house is closed up (it's freakin COLD tonight...I'm thinkin the poor campers are gonna freeze their weenies off) and the tv is on.

Sounds kinda like when I take a drive through the south end. heh

"Illinois - Mile After Magnificent Mile"....

That's what the official

Illinois Tourism

site touts.

What it should say is "Illinois - Mile After Mile of Dodging Potholes the Size of Texas and Avoiding Grotesque, Rotting Animal Carcasses".



Yeaaaaaa. Mile After Magnificent Mile, my ass.

Seems as though the Illinois Department of Transportation has blown it's wad on snow removal/salt applications this past winter...and now there's no money to do any kinda road fixin up or roadkill pickup.

It's gonna get mighty bumpy...and mighty stinky...in Illinois this summer.

I can't even imagine what it'll be like when fall gets here and the deer start goin crazy. Even this time of year, I still usually see at least one dead deer a week on my way to work. There's one now (on 29) that's been there a good two weeks.

Thank gawd the weather's been cool.

Spring means...

...morels! I do love the guys Ziggy works with. This is the second batch he's been gifted with...and they're promisin more!


...and lush, fragrant peonies, my all-time favorite flower...


... and bloomin Bridal Wreaths...


...and herbs.

Even though it's been slooooooow comin and the temperatures haven't got much above the high 60's for what seems like months now, it looks like Mother Nature has decided that, come hell or high water, it's gonna be spring.

I'm soooooo glad.

It ain't over 'til the fat lady sleeps

AP: A Lucian Freud painting sold for $US33.64 million ($35.76m) at Christie's art auction in New York today, shattering the record for a piece by a living artist.

The British painter's 1995 portrait of a nude woman sleeping on a sofa, Benefits Supervisor Sleeping, sold for just under its high pre-sale estimate of $US35m.

The previous record of $US23.6m was set last November for a Jeff Koons sculpture, Hanging Heart.

Contemporary art sold strongly, defying erratic financial markets at a $US350m auction marked by a surprising preponderance of American buying.

"It was stupendous," said Christie's contemporary and postwar art international co-head Amy Cappellazzo, noting it was Christie's second-best contemporary result.



Gotta admit...I'm torn. On one hand, I'm tickled pink that a big, ole fat woman is the subject of a record-breakin painting. It's like...I dunno...a weird form of...validation, somehow.

"Looky here. A fat woman can be treasured...can be valuable."

She's not exactly beautiful. Not by most social norms, anyway. And she's not even really a beautiful fat woman.

But she is real. She looks like what a fat, nekkid woman looks like when she sleeps.

Anywho, so on one hand, I'm tickled. On the other, I'm puzzled.

I'm puzzled about who bought 'er. I mean, is it just some art collector who thinks that the painting's value will appreciate with age? Who's buyin her only for an investment? Who thinks the subject matter is a bit repulsive, but the "technique" is brilliant? Probably.

Or did it speak to them, somehow? In the way "art" is supposed to.

Is the buyer some filthy rich, closet fat worshipper who sees the painting as something beautiful?

Let's face it...most men who are attracted to fat women are in the closet. So to speak. They'd rather be accused of damn near anything...except havin the hots for the more...ah...zaftig of the female form.

Will she hang in a place of honor, over the fireplace in his multi-million dollar mansion? Will he look at her every day and think she was worth every penny of that 33.64 million? Will he look at her as a beautiful, real woman?

Obviously, bein a fat woman, I'd like to think that.

Waitin on the call from The Food Network...

...and waitin...and waitin...and waitin...



I love the Barefoot Contessa, aka Ina Garten. I think she's got class and style and most of her recipes are...well...real food. Recipes that I actually feel fairly comfortable tryin. Plus, she's fat. I don't trust no skinny cooks.

However sometimes, she gets just a bit...unreal. (Can you say "Stepford Wife"?)

"I'm going to be out of town tonight, so I need to fix Jeffrey (her bumbling, milk-sop of a husband)something good for dinner. Something that he can just reheat."

So, she makes beef stew...with beef that's been marinated in wine, garlic and bay leaves for several hours...and takes 2-3 hours to cook in the oven. She's also makin him...get this...espresso ice cream.

Making ice cream.

Aaaand, she's makin him homemade cranberry scones for breakfast for the next day.

I mean...c'mooooon. Just who in the hell eats scones for breakfast?

She's spendin all fuckin day preparing supper and breakfast for Joltin' Jeffrey. Otherwise, I suppose, he'd just stand in front of the open refrigerator door, starin whilst pickin his nose and scratchin his balls, lookin for that neon sign that says, "EAT ME!"

Poor Ziggy considers himself lucky if he finds some week-old chicken salad and some dried-up jello in the fridge, fer chrissake.

Make him ice cream? I don't fuckin think so. Not in this lifetime, buddy. Ice cream comes from the store. Ya want ice cream, go buy some.



Now, Paula Deen...she's definitely my kinda cook.

"Now, y'all take a sticka butter and a cuppa aaawl and ya add a cuppa sugar and brang it to a baaawl."

And she says stuff like, "Awww...CRAP!" and she drops shit on the floor and feeds tidbits to her dawg...uh, I mean dog.

And she's pretty chubby, too. I trust her.

Ya don't see her tryin to roast a damn hunka salmon on no hoity-toity cedar plank. And, what's up with that, any damn way? Wouldn't a plain ole pine board do? They're both evergreen trees, ain't they?

I don't think salmon should taste like I just licked a board at the Home Depot.

I don't think salmon should be black and crunchy, either. Like it was when I pulled it off the grill while ago.

I cooked it just a teeeeeny bit too long. (Ya think?)

I dunno. Maybe I'm not cut out for my own show on the Food Network.

Just yet.

I know I'm sick and twisted...

...can't help it. Laughed my ass off at this one:

I was walking past the mental hospital the other day and all the patients were shouting ,"Thirteen!....Thirteen!....Thirteen!"

The fence was too high to see over, but I saw a little gap in the planks and looked through to see what was going on.

Some bastard poked me in the eye with a stick!

Then they all started shouting "Fourteen!...Fourteen!...Fourteen!"

(Thanks, SusieQ!)

Overheard conversations

Ziggy, upon watching an American Express commercial featuring Ellen DeGeneres:

"Here ya go...Ellen DeGeneres...remember several years ago she had a prime-time tv show and she came out of the closet and oh, my gawd!...such a hoo-haa over her bein a lesbian and on and on and on. Now, here she is, shillin fer American Express commercial....
She's KarlfuckinMalden, fer chrissake."

Terrible, terrible news...indeed

Talk Sex

is ending.



NEW YORK — Sunday night is getting less steamy.

Oxygen's Talk Sex call-in show with colorful septugenarian educator Sue Johanson is ending its run after six seasons, the network announced Tuesday.

The final show airs at midnight Sunday.

"I'm going to miss it terribly," Johanson told The Associated Press. "It's been part of my life and I just love it. I'm going to miss writing scripts. I'm going to miss having to read books. I'm going to miss playing with sex toys."

Sue Johanson

has always been one of my heroes.

I get the feeling, though, that she's probably not one of

Scott's

.

I guess I understand. Sorta. The first time I caught Sue's show, I'll admit...I was kinda...hinked out, myself. Let's face it...a wrinkled, grandmotherly-lookin old gal...wire-rimmed glasses...Saturday-afternoon-standing-appointment-at-the-beauty-shop hairdo...giving a detailed example of how to give a blowjob, using a dildo...well, ok. I was a little shocked, too.

But then I started listening to her. Lemme tell ya...that old gal's got it goin on. She's educated thousands of people about safe sex, STD's, general sexuality and how their bodies work...topics that, sadly, an awful lotta people don't seem to know much about.

That much was obvious from some of the questions that were often called in.

"Um...yea...I have a question. My boyfriend says I can get pregnant if I swim in a pool where a guy has...uh...well...you know. Is that true?"

I think part of the reason she was so successful was the very thing that hinks a lotta people out...her age. She was non-threatening, non-judgmental...and she used humor...lots of humor.

Let's face it, people...sex can be damn funny at times. And if you're too uptight to laugh about it, then you're takin it waaaaay too seriously. And ya won't ever have really good sex.

She taught people the correct terms for body parts...but she wasn't a bit afraid to use slang either, if she thought someone would understand it better.

"This is a cock-ring. It helps keep an erection...a hard-on...and it can help delay ejaculation. Ya know? If he comes too fast?"

Though I haven't caught her show much, recently...I seem to be havin a hard time stayin awake after 11 pm anymore...I really hate to see her go.

I wonder if they're lookin for a replacement....

It's all about me

Nah. I'm not really that narcissistic. And my life hasn't been that interesting.

Buuuut, hatin to let fellow Midwesterner

Christine

down, here's
my take on this particular little meme.

A) The rules of the game get posted at the beginning.
B) Each player answers the questions about himself or herself.
C) At the end of the post, the player then tags five people and posts their names, then goes to their blogs and leaves them a comment, letting them know they’ve been tagged and asking them to read your blog.

1. Ten years ago I was:
Lessee...ten years ago, I was still married to the ex, livin in a small town, workin 12-hour nights in the ER of our little, dinky hometown hospital. I loved that job. Except for the 12-hour nights part.

2. Five things on today’s to do list:
Get my hair cut
Go pick out my Mother's Day present...an absurdly expensive wind chime that I've been lusting after. It's not one of those little, annoying, tinkly-tinkly things. It has an incredibly deep, musical tone.
Go to the grocery store. Again.
Pick up my script for Chantix. (I'm gonna do it, this time. I mean it.)
Take a nap. I hope.

3. Things I’d do if I were a billionaire:
Good gawd. A billionaire? I don't know as I'd even want a billion dollars. Far too much responsibility. I think a cool mil would do me just fine. I'd buy us a tricked-out houseboat to live on. We'd cruise it down South in the winter and back up here in the summer. And I'd buy a bulldog and name him Winston.

4. Three bad habits:
Smoking. But hopefully, not for much longer.
Eating. Yea, well...
Um....other than smokin and eatin too much, I'm pretty much perfect. (ahem)

5. Five places I’ve lived:
Bath, Illinois (on the Illinois River)
Havana, Illinois (on the Illinois River)
Venice, Florida (on the Gulf of Mexico)
Birmingham, Alabama
Peoria, Illinois (on the Illinois River)
See a pattern here?

6. Six jobs I’ve had in my life:
Car hop at the A and Double-yew.
Photo-journalist at a small weekly newspaper
Floral designer
Telemetry tech
Kept woman (my favorite)
Registered Nurse

Y'all should also know that I firmly believe that rules are made to be broken. So I'm not taggin anybody else. Ya want it, feel free.

Stuffed Pepper Stoup

Ok, so gas prices are unfuckingbelievable, the economy's in the shitter, we don't have even one presidential candidate who actually knows his/her ass from a hole in the ground, our current crop of Illinois policrookticians are makin those from New Jersey look like the Osmond Family, the potholes in our local highways and byways are startin to make our roads look like Baghdad strike zones, I don't feel good and my current creativity factor seems to firmly stuck at zero, it's supposed to rain today and...oh...did I mention that da Zigster's on third shift, I work days and our cookin/eatin schedules...among other things...are completely and utterly fubar'd?

There. That should cover my current views on the national, local and personal levels.

Now that I've cheered ya up, here's a recipe (cause I can't think of anyfuckinthing else to write about) that's every bit as good, if not better, the second...or third...time it's reheated. Plus, it tastes just like stuffed green peppers, but it's lots easier.

It's what's for supper...or whatever...today.

Stuffed Pepper Stoup

Stoup: Thinner than a stew...thicker than a soup

1-2 lb. (depending on how meaty ya want it) ground chuck or sirloin, browned & drained
3-4 green peppers, chopped
1/2 large onion, chopped
1 large can (28oz.) diced tomatoes
1 C good tomato juice
1 C water
1 C uncooked rice (don't use instant unless you cook it separately and add it at the end...it cooks to mush, otherwise)
1 T crushed garlic (or to taste)
2 T chili powder
1 t basil
1 t oregano

Throw the whole mess in a big pot and simmer until the rice is done. It's also great done in the crockpot, but do brown the meat first. Serve with a nice green salad and some crusty bread.

Oh, and just so ya know...I didn't get the term "stoup" from RachaelperkyfuckingRay, either. My dad was callin some of his concoctions stoup forty-plus years ago.