Logrolling!

I got a nice mention from Michelle Lamar of White Trash Mom over at AffirmaWords, a site that features quotes that people like.

Since she is so nice, why not go buy her book? How can you go wrong with the White Trash Mom Handbook? Your white trash friends will relate and your snobby friends will be secretly appalled at how much they have in common with white trash people! It will be good for them. Consider it a public service.

Things we do for love

Ok, if there is some kind of prize for people who obsessively love their pets and do crazy things for them and if I get hit by a bus before I can get the award that I so richly deserve, will someone please nominate me to get it posthumously? Because I really should get one.

You KNOW how much Goldie likes fireworks. They are right up there with rectal thermometers and deer ticks in the Goldie Dog Book o' Fun Things. Actually I know for a fact she would rather have either of those things than to suffer through fireworks nearby.

Every night (EVERY STINKING NIGHT) for the duration of the 12-day county fair, there are fireworks at 10 pm. We live about 1/2 mile from the fairgrounds.

So every night at 9:45, Goldie and I jump in the car and I drive like Lot fleeing Sodom and Gomorrah to Carpinteria, about 15 miles north, where I turn around and drive back home.

Every stinking night.

It has worked out better for her than for me. She hasn't been traumatized, but I usually go to bed about 10, since I get up 5:15ish. When I get home after our drive, I can't go to bed right away and end up twittering at midnight. Yawn.

I may fall asleep at my desk and be fired and end up homeless in a cardboard box, but at least my dog will be calm.

Call for submissions

I wonder what kind of S&M weirdos that title will bring to my blog. Hi, weirdos! But this isn't about THAT, it is about my friends Suzanne and Alex and their latest project.

One of my favorite parts of BlogHer is seeing women get inspired there and go out and do great things. The first year I went, there were a few books for sale by the women there. This year, there was a whole table full, so many that I had to step away lest I bankrupt myself supporting some of my favorite people.

When I first met Suzanne in 2006, she wasn't a published author. Now she is: her book Off the Beaten Subway Track: New York City's Best Unusual Attractions came out this summer and is topping the Amazon charts (well, it ought to be).

Now she and Alex are looking for submissions for their new effort, an anthology of period stories - I mean menstruation, not hockey - and they asked me to help get the word out.

I know there are some great stories out there. Mine is written and I am editing like mad.

If you would like to step up to the plate and take a swing, go to their website, Congratulations, You're a Woman Now! and check it out. The deadline is September 1, so don't dilly dally! And tell them Suebob sent you. It doesn't make me any money, but I want them to know how mighty and powerful I am.

Oeuf means egg

I have some strong opinions about food. I LOVE food. Food is my friend. I hate when people HURT food.

This rant came because I just read an old poet-friend's blog and she talked about putting grated ginger in scrambled eggs. Good gosh, Laura-Marie, I love you, woman, but NO NO NO. That...is wrong.

Eggs are a tough subject. I have a delicate, complicated relationship with eggs. As someone who loves to cook and bake, eggs are so handy.

But because of the smell and the texture, eggs can turn on me. I don't like things that are slippery or rubbery and eggs so often tip the scale over into nausea territory.

Scrambled eggs? Yes, if they are cooked absolutely dry. In this manner, I have consumed omelets and breakfast burritos aplenty.

Meringue? Sure!

Egg drop soup? My sister Laura always used to make me laugh at American Chinese soups by calling them "Cream of Cornstarch," which, once you start thinking about it, makes you not order the soup course when going out for Chinese (even if the soup is free with meal, I still can't do it).

Poached or fried eggs? Er no, the texture. The floor is starting to tilt a little and my stomach is doing that fluttery thing. Don't EVEN think of busting that yolk so that...gaaaaaah....the yellow part ooozes onto other food...I can't look.

True weirdo confession: I am 47 years old and have never, ever gotten up in the morning and made myself an egg or two. I just can't face an egg that early in the morning. Eggs are "out" food.

Boiled eggs? (I wrote something super disgusting comparing the smell of boiled eggs to something else but edited it out because I am nice that way). NO BOILED EGGS IN ANYTHING NO WAY PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE. How do people EAT these things? Why? As a 20-year vegetarian, I can tell you that I would much rather sit down to a heaping plate of bacon than to eat one boiled egg. That's how much I love boiled eggs.

Let me share my favorite egg recipe: Put one dozen eggs in the refrigerator. Age for 6 months. Toss out. Repeat. I never get tired of this one!

How do you like your eggs?

Sunday in Summer

CC and Ish, Ish's mom and I went to a concert at the County Fair.

Did Los Tigres del Norte rock the house? Why, yes they did. In powder blue suits. With rhinestones. Vaya!


If that music doesn't make you shake your tailfeather, I hate to tell you, but you might just be dead.