April 2010 Archives

“Don’t even bother going in there”, he growled at us as we entered the local post office. “Morons!”, he shouted into the wind…
It was chaos. Old ladies threatening to throw their shoes. Older men storming about. Women with infants in strollers exclaiming profanities and spitting on the floor. Young 20-30-something types hanging back while quietly planning civil disobedience demonstrations. A coo in plain sight. Right before our eyes. We inched through the masses. Who knew this mundane task of overnighting a check would require such a spectacle. And when we finally reached the counter, the postal workers — with their eye lids peeled back with fear…eyeballs racing back and forth, started trembling uncontrollably and whispered – “We are out of stamps Ma’am”. Holding back my screams of laughter over being called “Ma’am”, I smiled. “Oh that’s okay”, I said.. “No need to panic, no need to fret, I just need to send this check overnight”, as I reached into my bag the crowd booed and hissed.. “I just need to send this [holding up the envelope for all to observe] express delivery to the IRS — and please have them sign for it because my deadline is tomorrow and THIS IS MY FINAL PAYMENT!!!!!” And with that I lept onto the counter and did the Pee Wee Herman Tequila Dance like it was nobody’s business… The crowd gasped but was then instantly silenced as they looked on in horror and disbelief.

This is the story, my friends. If you don’t pay your taxes — no matter what kind of tax… no matter who you are or how dire the situation, the IRS – The United States Treasury, will not give you a shoulder to cry on. They will be defensive. They will not care. They will act as if the dollars you owe – no matter how measly they may be, are equivalent to handing over your flesh and blood. They will say things like “well, you still need to eat, I suppose” and “no matter – I’m gonna get your money somehow”. They will make you think about what it must be like to go to jail, and panic about the welfare of your family. And, adding stress to stress, they will tax the tax you owe until you’ve paid at least one third more than you originally owed. In my case, I owed employee tax from 2008 — from when the thin sheet of glass that my design studio was standing on decided to crack and break, leaving us clientless and in debt… All within a three week period and all because of the economic crisis. I had always paid my taxes, and then I couldn’t. And if you think having a good track record means anything to the IRS – then, dude, here is a penny in a jar… Go have fun.

It was a lot of money – and now they have it. They have it all — despite the fact that the IRS is being run by the same people that can’t seem to stock the post office with enough stamps– thus causing rage and potential violence. And I don’t care on which side you stand… they all suck and you know it. And if you are getting a refund this year… please send your thanks right on over my way — because it took me almost a year and a half of guilt, tears, hard work and aimless wandering to get it all paid… And with that, let the glowing of debt-free begin.

Who needs a drink?

I need to write about something. But where to start is kind of escaping me right now. I could write about the weather, which is undeniably boring. Or I could write about how the babysitter was an hour late… and called to see if she should bother showing up at all… and I was all like, UM, YEAH! WHAT ARE YOU THINKING? Because it is and isn’t her fault that she’s 19 and therefore does not understand that although it isn’t her fault that she doesn’t have her own car… it still is her fault on every possible level. But now I just remembered that I several other things to do… so the rest of this post is going to have to wait. 

So what did you do today? Did you dance through the streets? Did you brandish the arms? Did you stand guard? Did you talk the talk and walk the walk? Did you?

What’s that? I know, what do I expect? You to have this lavishly preposterous Monday? Well, actually yes. I expect to live vicariously through the people that read this… so GET ON WITH IT. Hey hey… don’t get angry. I’m not pointing any fingers… wait, what? What did I do? Why, LET ME TELL YOU.

I kicked off the day with a typical morning conversation with the doctor’s office — Yes, although they faxed the prescription on April 6th, it was never received. Which is why I don’t have my brain pills.. otherwise tainted as vitamins. Oh no.. never received and I am in complete D deficiency. Call back and leave a message? Why, aren’t I talking to a real person now? Oh, because you only fax and email requests that are left on the voicemail? Am I getting this right? You do realize that you are talking to me right now and you have my file open right in front of your nose… you know this, right? Because IT MAKES PERFECT SENSE.

Then I drove to a local strip mall to have some proposals bound while I took my son to Starbucks. Yes. That’s right. INSANITY. But that’s NOT ALL. First I went to the grocery store and bought lettuce… because I just might have a SALAD. I know. MADNESS.

And then, just before the babysitter called suggesting that she wasn’t going to make it until she felt me tightening my grip on her ponytail — dragging her through the telephone, I thought about throwing in a load of laundry… but then I forgot and sat down to write this glimmer of sparkling genius instead. Now aren’t you happy about that? I mean, what would you have done if you hadn’t read this? All things aside and nonsense about living your life… right? I mean really. And now what? And now WHAT AM I GOING TO DO? I’m going to make dinner because it’s 5:10pm and THAT’S WHAT WE DO AT 5:10pm. And thank GAWD I got all of this out of the way! Because somewhere scattered throughout the fabulousness of this weather trenched day I also did about 3 hours of actual design work. Real work. For real money. Which has left me limp and hanging by a thread… and before you get all manic and curse the gods of MY FOOT WHEN WILL SHE STOP? I’m going. I hope you had a good day too.  

Care of 1944…

And ideal for the sick room.

We’ve been saying that a lot lately around here…

When really we just need to get back to being normal. Because YEAH SO WHAT Martha Stewart is following you. You still need to do all the things you did before… Before last Thursday. Because YEAH WHATEVER BIG DEAL, you look really unattractive with a giant MOON HEAD. Just let it go. Just get over it. Just MOVE ON  — just like nothing ever happened. Stop telling Twitter how much you love it and then slap it back into remission — IT DOESN’T UNDERSTAND.

So.. while we eat our Turkey Meatballs and stare longingly out into space… just twitching a little bit over the whole not-a-situation-but-sure-feels-like-it kick in the head, we are calming down. And with that I present… Mari’s Random Five.

Tax Season in our house has turned into the thank heavens we got a refund dance! And a big one. Big enough that I think I’m going to indulge my husband’s fantasies of a big screen TV. So while he’s pouring over reviews and comparing several acronyms and numbers that I won’t bore you with (HDMI, LED, 1080p, blah, blah, blah) I’m trying to decide if I deserve a new laptop – or maybe Adobe CS5. Well, deserve is the wrong word because of course I deserve all of it. Why is it so much easier to spend money for someone else than for myself? Instead I’m thinking through all of kinds of random silly non-essentials that I might purchase instead. It appears that I’ve always been a sucker for quantity over quality. I want 5 rolls of toilet paper for the price of 1, among other things. Even my posts at Small for Big this week are all about the I-want-me-this factor.

1.Oh Happy Day/
Oh Crappy Day Ring Set, Weasel Factory, $25

2. Metal
Trunks, CB2, $49.95 – 69.95
3. Igloo
Chair, CB2, $149
4. The
Original Saltwater Sandals, Sunshine Leather Company, $39.95
5. Armor Bolero,
Butterfly of Telepathy, $23

She’s still following me.

And this has officially become nothing short of an obsession.

Martha Stewart is still following me on Twitter, and I’ve had a few days to let this sink in… And when I say sink in, I mean SHAMWOW–Trust me, you’ll say WOW Every Time! And I’m still tracing through the wires of the Internet to try and find out why. I mean, yes. There is Will’s Kitchen, which is a stand alone obvious — THAT’S WHY, but I can’t wrap my head around the layers of circumstances that may have led Martha (because we are on a first name basis, obviously) to my Twitter account. So, what happens when she stops following me? What happens when Twitter ends? Do we all go running over to Facebook, banging on the doors… screaming for answers? Do we clamor over the, nicely manicured (mind you) garden fence to peek inside the windows into someone else’s life and existence, just like the old days? What is she DOING NOW? But then I digress and gaze over the new paint colors that Martha just released at Home Depot and sip my hot water with lemon, thinking about what Will wants to cook next — and just why is Martha Stewart following me?    

There is a fine line between getting your point across and being utterly annoying…

And I think I’m just about to cross it.

Thursday morning I was staring at my Twitter account wondering just what had happened to that one follower had decided to, in fact, pack their bags and move on… Just what were they thinking? Was it my Tweet questioning why some women wear spandex leggings as if they are in a perpetual state of exercise when clearly, they are not… Was it my response to Elly regarding the use of the word Internet as a verb… Or perhaps it was my Artistic Things ReTweet of my post about Ende? All intriguing but not without context — I pondered what drove them away, but decided it was time to just let it go and move on when, out of the corner of my eye, I witnessed the small yet daunting “followers” number wink at me, and then jump back up by one.

If you are one of those people that’s all like OH THAT’S NOTHING, I demand that you go away right now.

Martha Stewart is following me on Twitter, and I don’t think that there is an increment of time fast enough to describe how quickly I reacted in following her back… Or the speed in which I sent her a direct message: “Hey, thanks for the follow, please be sure to check out our new food blog, http://willskitchen.com — all about cooking with kids! Fun and Yummy!”. It only took me a few minutes to realize what a total geek I sounded like but HEY, MARTHA is following me on Twitter!

But it didn’t end there. Yeah, that’s right.. it had to go to another level.. IT JUST HAD TO. Now, I don’t really think that Ms. Stewart is doing the actual tweeting… but one never really knows, do they? It isn’t like she doesn’t have anything else to do…. Regardless, I suspected this was an accident, so I tortured myself and only checked twitter every other hour to see if she was still there. She was. AND – she STILL IS. Although we’ll just see about that after this post.

But why me? Is it because I’m double jointed, or because I mix my colors and whites? Or because I mentioned her new crafting book the other day? OR, because my sister is getting married, or because I just purchased a copy of her new magazine Body + Soul? OR, because I obsess about EVERYTHING? Yes. That must be it… And none of this was driving me crazy AT ALL… Because Martha is following me on Twitter and there isn’t anything to worry about.

BUT THAT ISN’T ALL.

Because a few hours ago my new BFF, Martha, Tweeted this:

RT @themarthashow
Do you want to attend our food blogging show? Make sure to get your
request in before it’s 2 late! http://ow.ly/1zsNU

So — it made sense. Will’s Kitchen, OF COURSE. But wait. Martha found me on Twitter through my twitter ID of forthebirdsblog. I only half mention Will’s Kitchen — the domain is there, but it isn’t linked. It’s all very suspect… and so before my head explodes… I am on a mission. A mission to go to this Martha Stewart taping and, at the very least, somehow have Will’s Kitchen mentioned. And virtually… I am taking all of you with me. And with this I request, dear friends.. sit back, relax and if you find a spare moment, loosen up those vocal chords and sing from the highest heights…  alert the world… Will’s Kitchen on The Martha Show or Bust. One small step for man… 

Just when I thought I was out…they pull me back in…

Participation on this blog has seen better days, and it’s really all my fault.

In the early days I was bold and didn’t even allow people to comment. It was a combination of  “I’m too good for you” and “I hope to hell that no one is reading this.” But that was then and this is now. Time passed by and I grew to learn about the ins and outs of the blogosphere. One thing was clear, participation is detrimental to your survival. Readers want you on that wall, they need you on that wall.

And so I started to let down the guard one privacy preference at a time. Then, somewhere midway down the line, I started having fun — and you just KNOW that nothing good can come from fun. I was in a comfort zone all cozy and cradled. And with this, I removed all the rules. I mean really, who needs RULES ANYWAY?

So things moved on and the world was good. But it didn’t take long before it started happening. It was like someone released an ad campaign out to the weirdos of the world — SHE’S A SITTING DUCK! And an attack was launched. They were here, and they planned to stay… and with that, the spammers moved in, the weird comments began and a few others let themselves be heard.
 

And just like that, it was Spring.

The End.

No, not really. I just wanted to end a perfect thought before starting a new one…. Because I still have a TO DO list consolidated into a bunch of little notebooks that all look alike… And although the list is ongoing, I have noticed a very sharp turn of events… A hairpin, if you’d like. Things like, DESIGN LOGO FOR NEW CLIENT THAT YOU HATE, have been replaced with words like PLAYGROUND, ENGAGEMENT PARTY, BUY MORE SHORTS, BLOG ABOUT THIS. But you know what hasn’t changed? My ability to put pressure on myself to complete all things on the list immediately. I mean now. RIGHT NOW. And although I find great peace and quiet in most of the things that I choose to do, I can also equate the pleasure of it all to that of the bane of my existence. Because I’m like that. I’m THAT PERSON. Very quickly, I can loathe that of which I love…. and then vice verse.

But I’m not writing about this because I’m loathing anything right now… Other than the TO DO list, which I think I mentioned is in a constant state of ongoing. Which means that it will never stop. Like doing dishes or laundry or STAGE MOMS. And the perpetual need to accomplish, start something new, end something old and move on. Even the designs and illustrations of days past… wanting to open them up and turn them into something else. Or buy that new Martha book about crafting EVERYTHING and decide that, yes, glue guns and glitter ARE good. I mean, what is it? What is GOING ON HERE? Spring has sprung and suddenly we need to DO, and if you aren’t as annoyed by me as I am right now… just hold on a sec because the daffodils are in bloom — and that one on the edge over there is WAY OUT OF CONTROL.

Dear Mr. Cruise,

In 1995 I worked the Client Services desk at the flagship Tiffany store in Mid-town Manhattan. It was an interesting position where clientele of the store would pick up their engraved items from my station — not quite a sales job — more important I would like to think, although lacking in commission. The job also offered certain perks — the ins and outs of a fabled department store, learning to tie the perfect bow, mingling with artists and top designers and of course celebrity sightings. When I think about it… the list could start and end with Madonna, who stopped in to buy a pen. But there were several others on the ranging scale… Chris Farley, Donald Trump, Susan Lucci, Jerry Lewis… to name a few. It was common to see them coming and going.. most with entourages, all desiring the star attraction. But that was just 1995.

Throughout my life I have seen and even spoken to people that are considered famed. Among the droves, a misplaced few that come to mind are Kirstie Alley, Scott Weiland, Gwyneth Paltrow, Guliani, Angela Lansbury and that lady that played Janice on the Sopranos. Alec Baldwin, John Updike, JFK Jr., John Chamberlain, Moby, Stephanie Seymour, James Lipton, Kelly Ripa, Ina Garten, Bloomberg, Howard Stern and wife, Don Imus and wife, Kristie Brinkley. Bob Rauschenberg — who critiqued my work thus causing my head to explode. I see Matt Lauer on a regular basis… and yes, he is THAT annoying.

When I was a kid I rode in an elevator ALONE with George C. Scott and he
scared the shit out of me.

I’ve been there. I know these people are all artists, entertainers and public figures that somehow go home at the end of the day and become normal — And although I can’t quite wrap my head around how possible that is, this all being said, I apologize. Because when you and your daughter walked in front of my car at the intersection of Hampton Road and Main, I lost my marbs. I wrangled for my iphone. I tweeted, I facebooked, I texted. I called my Mom. I let the small world that I live in be known that you were there in front of me. There you were. And although I don’t really like all of the movies or roles that you’ve chosen, Jerry Maguire was classic… despite being a chick movie. Your role in Tropic Thunder moved me and I don’t think any of us will ever get over Top Gun — despite your being paired with a woman three times your size. I whored you out with the tools of social media, and I admit my guilt.

So what do you say? Now that I’ve blogged about it among the thousands and know full well that you had no idea that I was there… and you couldn’t care less about this… What do you say we move to the first name basis, there Tom. Now that we shared that completely not-intimate not-a-moment… because you’re the first among many to make me act like a complete weirdo when faced with wait.. who? is that? and then drop the ball and act totally silly for about 20 minutes. And if this is enough ass-kissing for someone that is not a die-hard fan for, then I don’t know what is. Yes Tom, you are THAT good.

Sincerely,
Ry Sal

PS. In no way did the hot pink trench coat draw ANY attention to your daughter. Good job remaining inconspicuous.