Taming Chaos

We have the "cleanest home in America" according The Cleaning Authority. They must have a criteria that when it is time to tidy, one simply moves junk into another location, like a closet or a basket. This marketing ploy was sent by a DC cleaning company and upon opening the brochure, it teases, "Your home isn't the cleanest? It could be..." While making fun of me, they're also playing into a dream that I could actually be organized even though I'm not a label maker.

When I first got the flyer, it cracked me up. I thought, "Who wants that award?" But after perusing covers at the magazine stand, it is evident that neat-nicking is a big desire for people. Oprah's issue is all about de-cluttering. Real Simple gets ya organized, filed, and stashed. It really hit home when a friend said she did a lot of "straightening up" during the blizzard. All the while, I was hoarding recipes and trying them out for snow parties and video blogs (see entry titled MISO HAPPY for aphrodisiac cooking video).

There is truth to the phrase spring cleaning. The swelling of the buds signals change is in the air. Last weekend a frenzy of getting-it-together overtook me. I went through toys to give away to Goodwill. I'm in the process of converting our paper calendar to the computer. I even beautified my lingerie by getting see-through drawers so that I can admire my pretty panties. And for off-season stashing, the under-the-bed shoe organizer is sure to do the trick.

But the magazine tear sheets, school papers, work folders, and mail are entangling me in chaos. Gotta file because the tax deadline is looming. It stresses me out just typing this entry while I think about when I am going to pre-clean before the housekeeper comes tomorrow. Maritza, the sparkle fairy, is coming to spruce up the house with her magic vacuum before my parents arrive on Friday morning. Let's see how long the pine smell lasts but as Dan would say, "Cyndy, you like your piles." Maybe I should just hang an air freshener and have a dance party.

MISO HAPPY - Love You Long Time

How was your Valentine's Day? Some people think it is a Hallmark holiday but I feel that any chance to get sexy & exchange presents is FAB U LOUS! We geared up a week before V Day by hosting our dinner club with an aphrodisiac meal. I was Chef Cupid in the kitchen serving up miso-glazed cod with wasabi mashed potatoes and bok choy with green onions/sesame oil/cashews. The goal was to get everyone flaming with love.

If you want a new recipe for fish, this is the one. We had it at Proof in DC and I felt I needed it in my life on a regular basis. Recipes are below and here's an attempt at Culinary Seduction (the show I always wanted to produce). Keep in mind I just recently learned how to edit and only started shooting with my new HD camera this January. Forgive me a bit and you'll have a great menu with booty facts about food you might never have heard before, i.e. Potatoes were called "testicles of the Earth" by Spanish explorers. I credit two books, Intercourses and Seduction and Spice. Hope you get lucky!

MISO HAPPY VIDEO >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
RECIPES:
cod
http://www.foodnetwork.com/recipes/ellie-krieger/miso-glazed-cod-recipe/index.html

bok choy with cashews
http://simplyrecipes.com/recipes/baby_bok_choy_with_cashews/

wasabi mashed potatoes
http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Wasabi-Mashed-Potatoes-101027

chocolate dessert of your choice - ya gotta see Gina B for her decadent chocolate souffles

Kiaser Snowze

Our grocery store is completely empty with the exception of people blitzing for the last box of hot chocolate. No milk, no veggies, no bananas. I had to use several of my womanly charms to convince the butcher to grind for me (grind meat, you saucy monkey!). Today's storm is affecting 50 million people. Our lights are flickering. A power line is hanging in the middle of Prospect Street. The winds are expected to be 45 mph this afternoon. Thirty inches of snow hit us last week and another ten are coming down as I type this entry! We've already spent a week blowing snow, creating forts, and snowball fighting. What is one to do with all this snow?
MAKE ICE CREAM!

Snow Ice Cream recipe
1/2 c half & half or whole milk
1/4 c sugar
1/4 tsp vanilla
4 c clean snow

stir, stir, stir

add choc sauce and/or choc chips if you want

eat, eat, eat

Recalculating

There's a video on YouTube about social economics that every person should see. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ILQrUrEWe8 The staggering facts: "If Facebook was a country, it would be the world's 4th largest. 1 in 8 couples married last year met via social media. You Tube hosts a billion views a day." Digital media is mass media now. We are wi-fi, SMS, itext, and stay connected on a jet. However, the nagging need to update one's status makes me wonder if we are following technology like a bunch of lemmings.

A friend of mine said yesterday, "I'm a map person" and I completely understood. We have a GPS but mine is a techno-bitch. The robbers who broke into our car last summer must have know about her nasty disposition which explains why they left the system in my car. (See Dreamweaver entry.) The GPS lady screams at me when I don't get follow directions properly. She starts with a determined, "Turn in 53 feet." Why can't she provide directions in lingo that I understand? How about, "hang a ralph at the second right" or "turn in 2 blocks"? As I progressively get turned around on one-way DC streets, she yells "recalculating" over and over again until the urge to press on makes me want to jump off a cliff, like a lemming.

People are migrating to have the next, new, or best electronic game - iphone apps, Wii, DX, PSP, Xbox, PS3. "Deuce" (that's David Dean's game name) currently seems obsessed with Mario, Speed Racer and Lego Star Wars. "Can I play the Wii now?" "When can I play the Wii?" And to think that we bought it so that I could get fit? We decided to reset game time to be only on the weekends. After school plays is now old school play. Deuce is using his imagination, playing with actual Legos, dressing up, coloring, and light saber fighting with Gigi.

I feel pressure that we are being pushed into the sea as more and more gadgets arrive at the shore. The great digital divide is happening with the trendsetters and the trend followers. The best way to stay a "shiny happy person" is to set tech limits, according to New Scientist magazine, which I read at the gym while simulating a run on the treadmill with Black Eyed Peas Now Generation blasting in my ipod earbuds.

Logging out...

Homey Don't Play Dat

When you pay someone to do a job or service for you, don't ya think they should appreciate the hard-earned money you are giving them? My Southern upbringing influenced the notion that if money is exchanged, kindness and a thank you are in order. But there are times when that doesn't happen...

Moving to a new city requires one to re-establish the support system of doctors, dentists, babysitters, "go-to" stores, and beautification experts. One of the luckiest connections was with my hairdresser of three years, but because of a recent incident, I broke up with him. The conflict started last year - after growing my hair for months, I went in for an easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy trim. A few weeks after that appointment, I pulled a 360 and went in again with a picture of a shoulder-length January Jones style. My stylist became a scene-king and chopped my hair several inches shorter than the picture! Why couldn't he just re-cut my hair, take my money and send me on my crazy way? As I left the salon feeling ugly, a line from the past popped into my head - "I don't think so! Homey don't play dat!" Bye bye.

With this new found courage, I took a hard look at other providers in our life. We haven't been thrilled with our pediatric office for a while. The doctors are amazing but the front desk rudeness is unnecessary and the gestapo nurses require a bleeding, wheezing child to get in the door. Forget that Gigi had a fever for 3 days of 104! Forget that David Dean had strep 4 times in 3 months and we want another strep culture. Forget about calling after hours if a certain doctor is on call - she'll hang up on you if it is not an emergency. (It happened!) Finally, I said, "I don't think so! Homey don't play dat!"

Our children have never seen "In Living Color" and they don't know Homey D. Clown but they have heard the line over the years. It is especially useful when the kids are fighting. Just last night Gigi recited it but she thinks the phrase is "mommy don't play that," which works just fine for me.

The Worst Rule Ever!

by Brooks Kenny, a guest blogger who is workin' that skirt -- Brooks sizzles up a room with her laughter, she encourages anything that is fun, has been known to juggle three nannies in one month, and is one of the most generous people I know. Here's her story of a tea party for Martin Luther King, Jr.

Martin Luther King Jr.'s Birthday --a day the kids are off from school, parents work here and there, and we all sleep in a few extra minutes. It is a day filled with opportunities. Ours started with my Sean (3) drooling on me in my bed. About 5 minutes later, I feel a tap on my shoulder. It is my beautiful 5 year old, Paige. Her first words, "Mom, can you get the tea ready for our breakfast party? It is Martin Luther King's Birthday...and, it is my Lamby's birthday too." (Can't forget her first lovey, Lamby!) "In 5 minutes," I say with a yawn. "Pleeeseee...Moooom!" When I arrive in the kitchen, I search for drinkable tea for my young kids (red raspberry, best choice, add lots of sugar). I take out our tea cups (yes, Grandma, the breakable ones). When I approach the family table, I couldn't help but smile.

Paige and Sean had stacked books on each of the 6 chairs around the table. On each stack of balancing books was one of their guests - another lamb, a doll, teddy bear. I poured the tea. Pete made the eggs and toast. As we ate, I asked Sean and Paige what they knew about the day we were celebrating. Sean said "Martin Luther King JUNIOR never gave up. He tried and tried."

Paige said, "Mom, do you know about the rules they had when he was alive, before he went to heaven?" "Yes," I replied. "But, tell me what you mean." "Well," my determined daughter said, "people with brown skin were not allowed to play with people with white skin. And, people with brown skin could not go to good schools, eat at restaurants, or play in the same pools as people with white skin." I asked her what she thought about that rule. She said, without hesitation, "Mom, that is the worst rule I have ever heard of. Does that mean that if I lived back then, I would not be able to be friends with Diana?" Diana is Paige's closest friend at school. Diana is more than friend to Paige. She takes care of her. She walks with her hand in hand to P.E. (Paige is scared of dodgeball - who can blame her?). I put my arms around her and said, “We have a lot to be thankful for. We can thank Martin Luther King, Jr. that Diana is your friend, and that you get to play with her every day at school. And that we can treat everyone we know with kindness.”

So, tonight, I thank Martin Luther King Jr, for having a dream and for giving our children a world where treating people who are different from us is "the worst rule ever!"

Brooks is a mom, wife, and the Chief Marketing Officer of Lotsa Helping Hands, a business that helps organize community support to families who have experienced an illness or death, care giving for an aging parent, and assistance to military families who feel alone when a spouse is deployed.

Pants on the Ground

The new year brings about pressure to make resolutions and somehow in all the commotion of the holidays I forgot to think about changes for 2010. How liberating...no pressure to lose weight or save money. The only thing I want to do this year is keep my pants OFF the ground.

The blizzard-like conditions in December made lots of people disheveled for a while. Just before Christmas, it was a close call when an SUV practically mowed me over at the grocery store parking lot. The driver probably wanted my cart because there were not ANY to be found. The only way to get a buggie was to emulate Reed Timmer from Storm Chasers and track someone as they exited the store, follow them to their car like a tornadomonger, and wait while that person finished unloading. Inside the store was complete mayhem also. A guy in the isle beside me warned not to leave my buggie because someone stole his with all of his food items when he walked away. Maybe the perp had "poor visibility" but I'm thinking, "It's DC - no cart left behind." And don't forget the biggest snowball fight in DC's history. Hundreds of people had fun and games until a bystander took a hit in the shoulder and pulled out his revolver. Turns out he is actually a lawman and the whole city had their panties in a wad.

While these cold winter months encourage me to do everything counter to the typical resolutions, I somehow feel inspired by Larry Platt who performed last night on Atlanta's American Idol. He has what the Italians call Fuoco nelle vene - fire in the veins. The man is 60-something years old and sang his original song "Pants on the Ground." He's got it right - be proud of who you are. POTG!

Nutty or Nice?

I am fighting the symptoms of Dunlop Disease - my stomach has dun lopped over my pants. In the true spirit of Christmas, I'm giving...giving myself a break and enjoying the muffin top for a few weeks.

Who needs to be more wound up than usual right now with all the purchasing, festivities, deadlines, and errands? I call it Stressmas. It seems that as soon as December hits, people pull nutters, the freak-out moments beyond their normal behavior. I was in a store looking for some holiday glitz, reached to grab a BCBG mini-dress with sequin accents, and was aggressively challenged for "try-on status" by a snooty fancy-pants lady. Nutter! I smacked her down and bought the dress which turned out to be fortuitous. There it is at my birthday dinner where I met my fav Top Chef Bryan Voltaggio at Volt. >>>>>>

The best way to beat the holiday nutties is to invite joy. We asked an elf to visit our home. The Elf on the Shelf is on the bestseller list and at $30 for a stuffed elf and a book, I thought, "give me a break." http://www.elfontheshelf.com/#/home However, our elf Ziggy is worth EVERY penny. Each night Ziggy hides in a new place and the kiddies wake up to discover if he is in a plant or riding on a reindeer. It is like the surprise of Christmas morning all month. I'm ready for Ziggy to do naughty things like put undies on the Christmas tree or TP someone's bedroom. The storybook says the elf can not be touched but you can talk to him, and Gigi is constantly telling Ziggy about her day. His job is to watch the behavior in the house and report back to Santa. While Ziggy is watching their behavior, I am also trying to watch mine so that I don't end up on the Nutty list.

P.S. By the way, I've never had so many birthday wishes (thank you!) and my 35th birthday was simply perfect - breakfast and cards with DD & G, Facial at Red Door, Sombrero lunch at Guapos with Deb, flowers from Dan my man, and the amazing dinner with Brooks & Pete.

Mother Pluckers

Sarah Josepha Hale in 1837 created a letter writing campaign that caught the attention of Abraham Lincoln who endorsed the idea of Thanksgiving in 1863. Do you think that way back then people had family fatigue? Imagine Uncle Henry to his brother Samuel, "Do we always have to hunt for the bird on your farm?" Sister Sarah to sister Mary, "I just wish mother wasn't so picky about how to pluck this damn turkey!"

No one can handle being around someone for more than a few days without feeling cooped up. The best way to overcome that woozy feeling you get when you spent too much quality time with relatives is to get out and do something. We went to a nature preserve where I learned that a Watusi is a type of cattle, not a dance from the 60's. We met a zebra who was rescued after being found in a car crash on an Atlanta highway. Sounds like a movie, huh?! Then, a turkey got all huffy with me while taking his picture and went on the attack! Those birds hate the paparazzi right now and we watusied out of there.

It is important to dance around family issues during these "special times." Wait until everyone is apart and you can talk behind each others back again. I'm just kidding but one sure way to end a party is to blurt out, "You always seem to be busy when I come to town." Rather, do what the best of the best Southerners do - put on a nice smile and be grateful for what you get. The people in the South are more gracious than anywhere else in the country. It must have something to do with the fact that they are super grateful that hoop skirts left with the fires of the civil war.

If you still feel hassled by the holiday, here's something that you can do to make a difference. Like Sarah Josepha Hale in 1837, let's start our own letter writing campaign to those mother pluckers who are telling people not to get mammograms. I live in DC and would love to personally hand-deliver a mini-van load of letters to The Senate HELP Committee. http://help.senate.gov/ Pass this note around to your friends and family. Write a letter and send an email to cyndy@goodjobproductions.com with the result to catch some attention.

P.S. I am thankful for my family! Here I come mom to help you prepare the feast. XOXOXO!

Making Whoopie

Enjoy your pumpkin pie while you can. Mother Nature is ruining pumpkin patches in the Midwest. Because of heavy rains, Nestle, which controls 85% of the pumpkin crop for canning, issued an apology for not shipping the holiday staple. They are chunkin' pumpkins to use as fertilizer for next year's harvest.

On a positive note, there is a whole new crop of nail polish colors, just in time to get lacquered up for the holidays. I am intrigued by the festively named, "It's Coal Outside" and the Rockettes "Legs Celebrate." There should be colors to represent Thanksgiving. How about Burnt Autumn Red, Plymouth Rock, May Flower, Going Native?

After your manicure, go out and get a can of pumpkin puree while supplies last. Be thankful that long ago the Native Americans gave Plymouth settlers these gourds that they thought tasted so nasty, they covered them with molasses. The first American recipe for our traditional style pie was published in 1796...American Cookery, by Amelia Simmons. If you are feeling racy and want to try something different, make whoopie, pumpkin pie style. Click on the arrow below to see Gigi workin' her kitchen skirt.

Pumpkin Whoopie Pies - click on arrow

If you want the recipe, let me know and I'll email it to you.

The Suburban Suck

That thing really sucks, I thought as we watched the leaf vacuum getting rid of Autumn's presents. Only in the burbs would you see those trucks. They are loud and I feel like I'm back in New York City at garbage pickup time.

Suburban sucky experiences also happen at the big chain stores. I've already covered Target (see blog entry "Get Your Head Examined). Costco is another one on the list and we have renamed it "Fiasco." One of our first outings after moving to this community was to join the club. We waited for an hour to get our membership card with crying, feisty children, and left to never return. Ok, ok, I get the advantages - the good prices, quantity of food, and carrot cake. But we don't have a freezer or the patience. At least we didn't get accused of shoplifting during self checkout, like a Chicago couple at the other giant mega-store, Walmart. They've been banned and they didn't do anything wrong! That would really suck. http://www.dailyfinance.com/2009/11/09/walmart-levies-lifetime-ban-against-gay-couple/2

There is a draw in the outskirts - the great schools, the backyards, the spacious houses. There's also the cardio dance class taught by Mommie Bootie Camp Queen, Kristine Oleson, that helps me channel my inner Britney. http://www.healthcoachllc.net/ The get-togethers for dinners and drinks shake up the routine. The Boovie Girls in the book/movie club are rockin'...we just saw Michael Jackson's This Is It. http://www.thisisit-movie.com/ But the most important aspect about living anywhere are your friends, whether they are city or suburban sirens who've sucked you in to amazing friendships. As MJ would say, "With love, L-O-V-E."

Daylight Stupid Time

Fall behind should be known as "Fall on Your Behind" because the time change causes a state of national jet lag. Even though no one I know was on a 16 hour flight to Asia, people are grogged out. Calls are not being returned. Bills are not being paid. Kids wake up an hour earlier than the clock indicates. Hell, I hear on the farms, even the roosters keep crowing when the sun comes up. Who and why do we play with the hands of time?

It's an idea that dates all the way back to Benjamin Franklin. Living in Paris in 1784, he wrote an essay suggesting that moving the hour of sunlight from the morning (when Parisians were sleeping anyway) to the evening could save thousands of candles. That energy saving idea was translated hundreds of years later during war time in order for the morning sun to light the factories. Congress eventually came on board, creating a standard time zone for the railroad industry and signed it into law in 1918. I always thought it was created for agriculturists who need the extra sunlight but evidently, the farmers still have to milk Rosebud at the same time each morning.

Daylight Stupid Time is about saving energy, especially during the summer months. We trim the entire country's electricity usage by one percent each day.* However, what we save during the dark months of Winter is negligible and the lack of light makes me SAD (that's seasonal affected disorder). I took the kids today for an H1N1 flu shot and noticed as we waited outside in the cold, it was dark by 5:00p.

The universal clock is out of whack. Traffic has been horrible in DC this week with ten minute car trips taking an hour. A friend of mine showed up for her parent/teacher conference but it is scheduled to take place a week later. I put the wrong date on an evite invitation to a December party. Imagine if people showed up on both days! I feel so out of sync, we're having breakfast for dinner tonight...I just don't have the ENERGY.

* http://www.webexhibits.org/daylightsaving/ DOT study

Pong

Isn't it weird when something from your past whizzes back into your life like a motorcade?! It stops you in your tracks and makes you take notice. The president came through Kensington this week, causing much ado with flags a flying and SUV's a trailing. Our fab Delegate Al Carr captured the moment. The traffic diversions gave me an opportunity to ponder my week.

Several random things transported me back in time, like Kate Gosselin. I wrote about her in my second blog post back in June titled, "Hair-Brained Honking." It poses the question, "Does short hair make you bitchy?" Little did I know that I would be this crazy character at a Halloween party. My friend Deborah knows that I love a wig and she gave me this spiked hairdude. Check out the tummy tuck scar. Dan was "Jon," complete with hair-plugs and Ed Hardy t-shirt. Notice the name tag, "I'm Jon. Want to date?" However, the better costumes were Amy Whinehouse and Balloon Boy.

Another party we hit time-traveled us back to college days. We sported Greek letters and headed for our friends Kristine and Nate's Frat Party. As one entered the "house," the hand was stamped, jello shots were offered, and you were ushered to the beer pong competition. Beer Pong...it was even on the nightly news this week about how it is very dangerous to play, considering all the germs with H1N1 and all. I didn't play it, Dan didn't play it, but he got something that reeks of the flu. Gigi has been fighting a 103 fever all week and our house has the lovely perfume of Lysol. Hence the reason why I am writing later than normal this week.

David Dean and I needed to speed away from the coughing cloud, and even though there's no pong, Chuckie Cheese seemed like it would provide some fun and games. It perplexed me that, for the second time within days, my hand was stamped. Gotta love the "kid check" system that ensures you leave with the child you brought in. David and I attacked that place like VIPs. There was a "teachable moment" when I showed David how to play pinball. Things got a little out of hand with the driving videos - I wondered when the Secret Service of that establishment was going to kick me out for yelling "get out of my way mo-fo" as I drove over pilings and crashed into the perpetrator my car was chasing. It's yet another example of why I will not ever drive in a governmental motorcade OR win Mom-of-the Year. I did, however, make sure we washed our hands when we left.

Stars Upon Thars

Something happens in a suburban town
That makes you freak out when the widgets and whatnots
Start to break down.

You're stuck in a whirlywig grind.
You get all crazy when a broken garbage disposal
Leaves you in a bind.

The hood has a frenetic hullabaloo.
With demands of children and errands to run,
Hours are too few.

A meeting with your self needs to be had.
The world has greater causes, issues, and missions
To make you glad.

Last Sunday, the issue was about equal rights.
My gay friends and I rallied on the steps of Capitol Hill
And fought the fights.

"That day, all the Sneetches forgot about stars
And whether they had one, or not
Upon Thars."*

* The Sneetches by Dr. Seuss

Nice Rack

Wildlife is encroaching on suburban sprawl. Five raccoons attacked a woman in Florida this week. Bears are breaking and entering on a regular basis. Deer have taken over the Hamptons, bejeweled like fashionistas with ear tags and neck tracking devices. Recently, a brazen young buck tracked through our back yard, rubbed his antlers on our trees and ate most of my hostas. Dan said he had a nice rack and it made me think about how the phrase is used to describe a well-endowed woman.

Our racks get a lot of attention. There is a plethora of nicknames - boobies, ta-tas, bazunkas, melons, jugs, titties, hooters, headlights, dirty pillows, gazongas, breasticles, cans, bosom, mammaries. Did I miss any? Our "girls" are loved so much that October is dedicated for National Breast Cancer Awareness. http://www.nbcam.org/index.cfm Ladies, feel your girls. Guys, feel your girl's girls. Get a mammogram. Drink milk. What???? Dr. Northrup, a frequent guest on Oprah, advices us to increase our intake of Vitamin D to help prevent breast cancer. "...researchers determined that women with vitamin D levels above 52 ml have half the risk of developing breast cancer..." More info on the study at http://www.oprah.com/article/health/womenshealth/20090826-orig-christiane-northrup-vitamin-d

I want to honor my "girls" after my first mammogram this month. I'm going to buy some pretty lingerie as a tribute to my "peaches." Glamour magazine uses fruit for "cup comparison": A cup is the size of a kiwi, B cup are peaches, C cup are apples, D cup = oranges, E cup is a grapefruit and F cup is the size of a coconut. If you honor your fruit, watch out for the booby trap gimmicks such as the Nipple Erector Set or the Brava Breast Enhancement System. I'm going for a bra that makes my breasties look sexy in the hopes of promoting more wild life in suburbia.

*** Be educated about Inflammatory Breast Cancer which is not detectable in a mammogram and progresses quickly. http://www.nbcam.org/disease_inflammatory_breast_cancer.cfm This type of breast cancer is called "inflammatory" because the breast often looks swollen and red, or "inflamed" IBC accounts for 1 to 5 percent of all breast cancer cases in the U.S.

*** I dedicate this entry to Julie's "breasty dumplings."