Wherefore art thou, readers?

This little spot on the Interwebs has suffered in the last month, thanks in no small part to my lack of posting some decent content. I blame this on many things, but mostly on illness, anxiety and distractions. There are so many things that have gone on that I haven’t posted about (the Peanut Festival! the All-Stars reunion! the Demise of Tonya on RW/RR Challenge!) because . . . well, I don’t really know why. In my head, the creative juices are flowing, sort of, but somewhere deep in the confines of my brain, the things I want to say are getting stuck – bottlenecked, if you will – in the traffic of my anxiety.

A couple of months ago one of my blog posts was submitted to Creative Nonfiction for consideration in its “Favorite Blog” contest. The winner will be published in the premiere issue of their redesigned magazine. Friday morning they released the 15 finalists, and Half Baked, Twice as Good was not among them. Surprised? Yeah, me neither. But that’s okay, because the blogs they did select as finalists are some really, really great ones. Anyway, all of this is to point out that there are far better places you could spend your time online, but I specifically want to thank the 8 of you that come here – you are my 8 favorite people in the whole wide world.

Also, Monday listing has been on hiatus for the month of October as my head has been too far up my ass to write anything. I was going to try to overcome that today, but instead I thought I’d wait for next Monday. It might take me a whole week to come up with a list. This is sad.

I will, however, treat you to some pictures from the 39th Annual Power Tool Pumpkin Carving party at my brother’s on Friday night. There was Funkin’ Punkin’ Ale, power tools galore, lots of Jello shots in spooky shapes, and one very rambunctious kitten. We left at a decent hour in order for BB to get up at 5am the next morning, but apparently just as he was getting ready for work, the party was winding down. Who, I ask you, can still party until 5am at 30 years old? Not I, friends.

Mmmm, jello shots in bat, ghost and pumpkin shapes

That's me with K. Cat, except that I'm not wearing a pumpkin on my head. It just looks that way.

That's my mother, the skinny movie star. She's holding Gravy, a rescue kitten whose brother is Biscuit (formerly known as Big Rig).

Seasonal contracts and negotiations

Dear Fall, which some people (strange ones) like to call Autumn,

On the one hand, I’m super glad you’re here. You and I, like the old friends we are, tend to hug each other a lot and comfort each other with things like football games and cool weather. I provide the warm fuzzy sweater, you give me bright yellow mums that look like pom-poms I had in 7th grade. It’s a good trade off.

Occasionally, though, we differ. I like to feel generally good, you like to produce crap in the air that causes me to feel bad. So probably, in order for this relationship to thrive and grow, we should work on some kind of compromise. Here are the following things I plan to do during your season, followed by the things I expect from you in return:

1. I will plant some pansies to make your season look more festive and colorful. You agree to give me rain and cool temperatures so they won’t die and make my front porch look like Boo Radley’s.

2. I will wear a coat. You agree to make it such that I don’t look stupid because it’s 90 outside.

3. I will consider jumping  in piles of leaves. You agree that adults don’t jump in piles of leaves because, well, it’s dumb. You also agree to accidentally make my neighbors’ leaf blowers die unexpectedly.

4. I will buy stock in cold medicine. You agree not to make me sick again. AGREE. NOW!

5. I will buy a pumpkin to carve with power tools this weekend. You agree that it’s a good idea and support my efforts with good weather and no rain.

6. Our contract is suddenly about nothing but weather. You agree?

I think six items are enough for now. I reserve the right to add more later.

Love,

Me

The one where my head turns into a TV set – the old, console kind.

Have you seen that commercial for Bing, the new search engine? It’s the one where everyone is spouting out all this useless information that has nothing to do with anything, except someone asked them a question and they’re all Search Overload! Search Overload! Part of me thinks that commercial is funny, but the other parts of me want to rip my TV out of the wall when it comes on.

My brain feels kind of like that right now – kind of like Overloaded! Please press f6 to reboot and start over! – but I think it has less to do with the amount of Internet searching I do and more to do with the fact that I have been MIA for the last 5 days because SOMEONE GAVE ME THE FLU. I’m looking at you, BB.

Well, it might not be the flu flu. I mean, it technically could be the flu if you consider the chills and aching and head congestion and coughing and misery and insomnia and WILL SOMEONE PLEASE HAND ME A GUN ALREADY? But I haven’t had a fever (someone told me this was the good news) and I don’t so much think I’m going to die today as much as I thought I would on Saturday, so probably I’m in the clear.

But that’s not really my point. My point is: I have watched so much television in the last 5 days that I am pretty for sure that if you asked me a random reality TV question, I would not only ace it, I would also be able to give you background research and statistics and maybe some genealogy (re: the Kardashians, the Lamases – wait, how do you pluralize “Lamas” when it’s a last name attached to people who should not reproduce?). I can tell you about ALL the balloon boy interviews, the number of houses HGTV helped sell in the last month, how many people are left in the running for the next Iron Chef and that Shakira wore the same outfit to SNL that she had on for last week’s Dancing with the Stars performance. I can tell you that Dexter’s hair is longer this season than last. I can tell you that on October 28th “The Proposal” will be available OnDemand, and also that Nightline is rerunning its story about evangelist Benny Hinn again tonight.

My brain is tired.

I think normal sick people probably sleep, or read books or newspapers or something, but not me. No sir. I have had at least one cat attached to my thighs at all times, and my right hand has the remote. Left hand free for phone, Kleenex, juice, whatever. Right hand on the remote at all times. I woke up yesterday morning and the damn thing was still in my hand, right where I left it the night before. I think I need some help.

So, for those of you who called to make sure that I was alive – not because you were necessarily concerned that I might be dying of swine flu, but because I haven’t posted in days – settle down. It’s taken me 5 days to move myself to the computer and I can’t make any promises until my head has finished exploding from all the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader high kicks.

Spoiler Alert!

My Top 10 TV predictions for this year, or this fall, or however long it is before my favorite new shows get canceled:

1. The two Harlem Globetrotters will come in second to the gay brothers on The Amazing Race. Cute Blond Athletic Cali-Couple will fight for first, but the Globetrotters have longer legs and the gay bros will pull out the win. They’re pretty, they get along well, and they know when to flirt (at least, tonight they do.)

2. Mr. Schue’s wife will steal Quinn’s baby on Glee and pass it off as her own, until it grows up to be an asshole like the mohawk football dude. Also, the black girl and the kid with the wheelchair will make sweet music and beautiful babies together.

3. Cougar Town’s Cousin Courtney (Have I ever told that story? If not, I need to get on that.) will hook up with the judgy neighbor across the street, but not before her son gets a cougar of his own, which will leads to lots of hilarity and physical comedy for which Cousin Courtney is so famous. And by the way, I’m not sure how I feel about her name on the show (Jules). She is MONICA. ABC needs to recognize.

4. On Modern Family, Julie Bowen will slowly drive herself insane with trying to keep her promiscuous 15 year-old from hooking up with the broody senior, which will lead to lots of drinking. I predict glassfuls of Crystal Light lemonade spiked with gin. Also, that Colombian chick will get naked. At her son’s soccer game.

5. Meredith and Derek (Grey’s Anatomy) will get married for real, after they discover the need to file jointly to avoid high taxes in the State of Washington. Yang will choke Army dude in his sleep, Izzie’s cancer will mysteriously disappear and Little Grey will get knocked up by McSteamy. Or maybe Callie will get knocked up by Arizona. I can’t decide. Stranger things have happened.

6. Tom DeLay will make it ALL THE WAY on Dancing with the Stars, besting Kelly Osbourne, who will – six episodes in – lose her shit and require an ambulance ride.

7. Rachel Zoe dies. For real. She chokes on – are you ready? – BUH-nanas. (I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself. I’ve been waiting to use that for, like, months. Months where I totally died every time Rachel died. And then, when she lived after the stomach bug, I died all over again.)

8. Mad Men’s Don Draper cracks a smile and tells his children he loves them. Rachel Zoe dies again.

9. The Real Housewives of New Jersey come back, but all those babies that were born conveniently after they stopped taping are now magically – just like the soaps! – teenagers in the new season. Leads to lots of hilarity and comparisons to Victoria Gotti’s kids. Oh wait, does she still have kids? Or have they . . . “disappeared?” Either way, one of the Housewives moves into a bigger house because a) Danielle won’t stop stalking her, and b) her house was gross after she hosted a benefit and the public came over.

10. Zach Braff, Sarah Chalke, Donald Faison and John C. McGinley come together for a Scrubs reunion and it’s so good that ABC decides to bring it back as a mid-season replacement for Desperate Housewives.

Hey. A girl can dream.

Because next year there might not be as many

I guilted myself into going to the family reunion today – and it was ALL FOR YOU, LawyerMom! Well, not really. It was also for my great-aunt Ernestine, who turned 90 over Labor Day weekend.

And it was for Daddy and his sister:

And it was for Cathy and Burt and Frank and Mack and Marie and Michael and all the Mollies and all the Cindys. (There are more than you might think.)

And even though the crowd was smaller, and even though the food wasn’t as homemade as last year (we’re all too old and exhausted to cook anymore), and even though not all my favorites showed up, I did not have to suppress the urge to tell an old wrinkled person to fuck off, NOT ONE TIME. Incidentally, I noticed at the park this afternoon that the leaves are starting to turn. I also noticed last night that it’s dark at 7:30 now.

You know what this means? This means that the universe has given me reprieve! This means that the air is changing! The heat – DEAR GOD THE HEAT THAT TRIES TO KILL ME EVERY SINGLE DAY – is dissipating! I would marry the fall season if I could. I would even buy it a ring and plan a big fussy wedding with a ball gown and a 30-piece orchestra. And I am so not exaggerating.