Monday, December 30, 2002

Enough with the Tornadic Activity, I want terra firmer, por favor

I'm spinning and it's not from too many margaritas. For about the 100th time this season, we're under a Tornado Watch. For those up north and in "high, dry, and safe" land, a Tornado WATCH is when they don't actually SEE one but they think one my come around if the weather turns. A WARNING translates into Spanish as, "vamos like Hell, it's a twister." I suppose, in English, this roughly translates into "We think we've spotted one in that trailer park over there."

And, speaking of trailer parks. What in the Hell was Hildi thinking of when she put 6000 flowers on the bathroom wall? I don't know what she does in her bathroom but I can vouch for the fact that, whatever happens in mine ain't rosey. Enough with the flowers and these "I'm a designer, I can do what the Hell I want and you have no say in your own home" routines, ok? It's getting OLD. If it weren't for the upcoming Austin shows, I probably wouldn't even watch Trading Spaces anymore. I really don't want to watch somebody trash a perfectly good bathroom because she has an attitude problem and thinks she's queen for a day. Queen Mum maybe, and those were just some of what she stuck on the wall. Um, Hildi, darling, next time, DON'T say it with flowers, ok? The homeowners asked for SEA SHELLS. Not dead roses, dried hydrangia, and a brightly colored swirl of bad taste. How can you tell when a family of pink flamingoes moves in next door? The put plastic Hildi dolls on the lawn, that's how.

Now, to round out my trailer park trashy theme for the day, I've decided to get drunk on New Years. I know, I know, I'm a lush, so what's new and why is this news? But, this year, I've decided to go all out. I mean, the economy sucks, the Taliban are knocking down our doors, there's Texas Twisters in the wind. I might as well go for broke and enjoy New Years. It'll be my last bastion of drunken stupor before I have to wise up and actually do something productive, like clean my house. Which, if I lived in a trailer park, might not look all that bad but, in my yuppie subdivision, ick. My dust bunnies have dust bunnies. But, hey, at least I don't have six friggin' thousand flowers stapled to the walls of the bathroom, like those poor unsuspecting saps in Mississippi.

Maybe I'll get one of the cyclone vacuums to clean the place. In honor of twister number 101. Maybe it will be so strong, it'll suck up a pink flamingo or two. Sit and spin. Let 'er rip. Twistin' the night away. Yippie! Let's suck up some flowers in Mississippi, I hear they have some to spare. Heh, heh, maybe, if the homeowners get lucky, a big one will spin by and they can put the insurance money to good use, fixing up the mess Hildi left behind.

Until next time, this is Carol, the Carol in "Carol's Little World" signing off from someplace other than a trailer park in Kansas.

Saturday, December 28, 2002

Questions

Just how do you make the perfect margarita? I keep thinking I got it down and, then, BAM, along comes another twist. Was there really only ONE man from Nantucket? I suspect there were more but just one made if off the island and got himself into a lot of jokes. How can I be so sleepy and yet be a chronic insomniac? I suppose it has something to do with the caffeine-induced buzz I'm feeling right about now. Why does blogger work most of the time and then suddenly stop? What makes it come back? What exactly is the opposite of sight?

I heard earlier this week that Herb Ritts, the famous photog. died in the hospital. I'm going to miss his work. He became his own celebrity. I didn't think you could do that but, I guess he found a way. What's interesting to me is not so much that he was a celebrity himself but more the fact that he was remembered as a "celebrity photographer" and not so much for his work. He was a celebrity photographer who knew a lot about shadows and light, I suppose. One of my favorite books, On Photography, talks about this.

"It would not be wrong to speak of people having a compulsion to photograph: to turn experience itself into a way of seeing. Ultimately, having an experience becomes identical with taking a photograph of it, and participating in a public event comes more and more to be equivalent to looking at it in photographed form...[Mallarme] said that everything in the world exists in order to end in a book. Today everything exists to end in a photograph."

I find it fascinating that Herb Ritts actually photographed celebrities so much he became one himself. It's like an appetite so large it consumes the hunger as well as the food. If it's true that everything exists to end in a photograph then I suppose Herb Ritts ended up a celebrity by means of celebrity. I guess, according to my premise about the opposite of sight, that makes him completely anonymous. A non-celebrity if you will. A man able to hide in plain sight, in between the shadows and light. More power to him.

Until next time, this is Carol, the Carol in "Carol's Little World" signing off.



Saturday, December 07, 2002

Saturday Night's Alright for Devil Dogs

And watching Trading Spaces. I feel like I'm stuck in a bad B movie or something. Austin has become the land that time forgot. Everybody's so busy waiting for the next big thing to come around, I wonder if we'll even notice it when we see it. Or will it just one day magically appear. *Poof* there it is. Hey, was that always there? Hmmm.

Speaking of the Trady Bunch (as they call themselves) I'm officially inviting them back. It's not that I want them to re-decorate my house (I really don't) and it's not that I even want to see Ty paint more shelves (you know the old adage about "watching paint dry" right? Good.) No, it's just that, since they've left, we've been out-of-sorts so to speak. We had our first ice storm of the winter; it got cold and blustery. Unemployment went up (probably all those out of work extras and catering people), my brother in law was in a car wreck, my sister lost her job, and all kinds of things have just gone wrong. It sucks. It's like the giant cosmos has become mis-aligned and we need the official Trading Spaces ultra ray gun to make it right again. Come back you Trading People and work your magic. Whatever was in those big bright Winnebagos wearing chirpy bright Banyon/TLC logos was just enough to do the trick and fend off our demons.

And speaking of doing the trick, I have just finished off the last Devil Dog. For those of you who don't know, Devil Dogs are kind of like chocolate Twinkies. Or maybe not. Think fluffy chocolate cakes with that familiar creamy white filling (not THAT creamy white filling...geesh.) Definately a northern thing, I suppose, as they are rather difficult to get in Austin. Don't know why, as we even have Wise potatoe chips now, but Devil Dogs have become the last bastion of true northern "roots" that I have left. That and those big pretzels you can get on the streetcorners in NYC. Damn, I loved those. Once in a while, they stock Devil Dogs at Randall's. If you squint really hard, you can almost see them, happily sitting there on the shelves, in between the Lil' Debbie's and the Ho-Hos. I don't know why I sometimes find myself missing things northern. Ordinary stuff like snacking items, fresh apples, skating rinks, snow days, long scarves/heavy woolen sweaters, and the northern lights. I really miss the northern lights.

The indians used to believe that the northern lights created some bad ass mojo and made things go bonkers, or at least a bit askew. Like they were some tool used by the great Gods to manipulate the cosmos into doing strange new things. Maybe that's how those Trading Spaces people make their magic happen. It explains why all their armoire doors are crooked, anyway. All I have to say to the folks in San Diego is, "look out for those Winnies, baby. You just don't know what could be heading out your way."

Until next time, this is Carol, the Carol in "Carol's Little World" signing off.







Sunday, December 01, 2002

I'm Back with a Little Fear and a lot of Respect

Actually, I did not go anywhere. I've been having trouble with my blogger and my blogger template, or so I've been told. I have been too busy to figure it out myself so, rather than fighting with it, I waited for the problem to go away. Don't you just love computers? Sigh.

I got my pictures back from the Trading Spaces set. No good shots of Ty (I was too shy to ask if I could take his picture) but I did get an ok shot for Ken. My friend up in Maine, Ken, absolutely LOVES Gen and he's going to FLIP, FLIP, FLIP when he sees the photo. I told him, "I couldn't get very close to her" which is an outright lie. We got real close, she was really nice, and even posed for me. He asked me for a picture of "even her coat as she's running away" and I told him, "well, you can sorta see her in the picture if you squint." I can't wait to see his response. It's about as close as a full-on portrait can get. Now I just have to mail out the photograph to him before he reads my blogger.

I've been told my site is quite "weird." I suppose it is but then, what'd you expect? I'm weird, why should my site be any different? I'm just surprised that anybody is actually reading it at all. Well, enjoy. The web is such a vast and wonderful place. I'm happy you stumbled onto my sight. I hope you like it. Or at least don't run away frightened. Too frightened. A little fear is not really a bad thing.

My friend Steve has worked for IBM for more than 5 years now. I have a lot of respect for somebody who can work in a crazy place for such a long time. I used to work with him at Tivoli and have had about five jobs since (gotta love the new economy) but he's still chugging away at Tivoli. Even though nobody I know is still there, he's still banging away. Have fun, Steve. And happy belated anniversary!

Until next time, this is Carol, the Carol in "Carol's Little World" signing off.




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