At Least I Didn't Think It Was My Dad

This morning I went to take a picture of the postcard-sized bruise on my thigh so I could send it to Bub and TB, but decided against it because my legs have abandoned summerhood and have now taken on their winter form.

So, I'm getting ready to shut my phone (because that's my fancy camera) and I see this picture of a woman on the screen and I was like "I didn't know I had pictures of my mom on here!" That's because I don't. "Oh wait a minute. . ." Yeah that's right. "I just got this phone, how could I have pictures of...?" Get there. "No." Oh yes. "that's because I don't." Yeah, that's right - I don't.

It wasn't my mom, it was me. The camera was still on and I was looking at myself NOT my mom. "Take that back!" I shouted at the phone, as if it could undo it, because surely I don't look so much like her I can't even recognize myself. "You take that back this instant!"

The phone did no such thing, and now consequentially, it is floating, face down in my coffee.

I hope it suffered.

Are You Two Boyfriend-Girlfriend? Steady Dates? Lovers?

So, I have a new love for a one Miss Molly Ringwald. I've never disliked her, in fact I'm a huge fan of everything she's ever done, including The Pick-up Artist and the fairly awful 1996 show Townies. But she was never my favorite brat-packer by any means. (note: some guy sitting behind me just said, "yeah but was she your favorite fudge-packer?" aaaah coffee shops near Loyola filled with 18 year old boys.) My favorite was Andrew McCarthy. No, Judd Nelson. No, Rob Lowe. No, Anthony Michael Hall!

Anyway, she was still better than that scratchy-voiced Demi Moore locking herself in an oddly windy room waiting for some attention, although this does not mean she was the smartest. She turned down the Julia Roberts role in Pretty Woman, and the Demi Moore role in Ghost (a part named for her for Christ's sake!), but did take the role of Miss Banks in Teaching Mrs. Tingle, so there's that.

But the point is not to judge her career choices, the point is, I came across this little video yesterday and was a little proud of Molly. It's not an amazing commercial by any means, and I do not like to discuss politics, religion, or abortion - unless I'm drinking - but come on California. Come. On. If this passes I won't be able to give a speech at my sister's wedding and I already figured out how I'm going to work Justin Timberlake lyrics into it!!!

Cooking Sternly

I was told I wasn't allowed to tell anyone about this story, so in order to honor that yet still get this little tid-bit out there I'm going to be very discreet and just say that one of my sisters called and had this conversation with me. I'm not gonna say which one, and I'm not even gonna use a fake name ok, so don't ask.

So, I got this phone call from a sister asking me if I knew anything about spaghetti.
"The food or the straps?"
"The food."
"What don't I know?"
"I don't know, that's why I'm calling."
"What's there to know? It's pasta. It tastes good with sauce. All kinds of sauce. Except soy sauce, cause then it's not spaghetti, then it's chow mein."
"What? I don't like Chinese food you know that."
"Yes you do. You like orange chicken."
"That's from Panda Express."
"I'm pretty sure Panda Express qualifies itself as Chinese food."
"Anything you can only find in a food court isn't real Chinese food."
"I'm pretty sure it's the only food in a food court."
"Amy!"
"What?"
"Where are you?"
"Coffee shop. I'm trying to work, what do you need?"
"Is there anyone there you're going to repeat to what I'm about to say?"
"No. Well, there's a priest here. Like an acutal priest, with the little white collar thing and all, but he looks Jewish."
"Ok, you can tell him but no one else."
"Deal." (Opens internet and starts blogging as she's speaking)
"So this spaghetti thing. . ."
"Yeah?"
"How do you . . . I mean, when you're cooking it. . . do you put the noodles in before the water or after the water? And if it's after the water do you wait for it to boil first or just plop it in cold?"
". . ."
"Aim?"
"Dude. . ."
"Stop! I hear you about to make fun of me."
"We ate spaghetti almost three times a week when we were growing up, and then we ate it three times a week when we were in college and living in the same house."
"Yeah but you or mom always made it."
"I'm pretty sure Michael could make it at this point."
"C'mon!"
"Fine. I'm sorry. Just boil some water and throw the pasta in for 8-10 minutes."
"Oh. . .ok. That's what I thought."
"If you throw a piece against the wall and it sticks it's done."
"Oh, if I throw it on Beth and it sticks does that also mean it's done?"
"Absolutely."

Later I mentioned that she made macaroni and cheese all the time and didn't it ever occur to her that it was pretty much the same thing. "No," she said. "Macaroni and cheese has neon stuff that gets mixed into it and spaghetti is just plain old red. I didn't know what to do without the powder pack."


And that's why I love her.