the beards

Last night Mr. D had his monthly poker night, so after I tucked in the boys I had the TV remote and I could watch whatever I wanted, or not watch TV at all (as is often the case), for as late as I wanted.  After some light reading, I flipped the TV on and began surfing the channels.  Other than Masterpiece (Sunday nights), Mad Men, and Sons of Anarchy (Tuesday nights) I don't really know what is on when on which channel anymore.  The few random sitcoms I still follow (The Middle, HIMYM, Modern Family) I can catch up on by watching online at my leisure.  When I do turn on the TV, it's always a  surprise.

Flip.  Football.  Flip.  Stupid Lifetime movie.  Flip.  Weight loss infomercial.  Flip.  Angry lady on news station.  Flip.  Angry men on news station.  Flip.  Football.  Flip.  Dumb sitcom.  Flip.  Flip.  Flipflipflipflipflip.

And then I found Duck Dynasty and got sucked right in because reader?  That is the most funny and oddly sweet show on TV these days.  In my now second-favorite episode (my first being when they get an RV and get the farts), one of the daughters is learning how to drive and everybody's got an opinion on how to teach her while Grandpa and Grandma take over chaperoning duty with one of the grandsons and his new girlfriend.  The duck obstacle course they set up for the girl to drive through was HILARIOUS.  And dad in the passenger seat with his duck call, warning her every time she screws up--I was laughing out loud.  And their focus on having fun but keeping the grandkids pure was absolutely heartwarming.  But the episode that took the cake involved lawnmower races because I know guys who would totally do this exact thing.  Meanwhile, grandpa is charged with building a princess playhouse for his little granddaughters.  When the building project ends up a two-story fort that looks nothing like the picture on the box, the girls and grandpa turn it into a duck blind.  They're covered in face paint and toting BB guns and grandpa offers them a crisp dollar bill for any decoy they can pick off the picnic table below.

Duck Dynasty.  Pure redneck awesomeness for the whole family to enjoy.

I ask you reader, when you thought about the future and TV when you were a kid watching The Jetsons on one of five available channels, did you ever imagine it would look like this?  Sixty-odd channels and the only thing fit to watch is a show about super-hairy redneck duck-call makers.  Don't know about you, but it's not what I expected.




Si's commentary about "Evil Meneval" and "being wingman" is classic.

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because green girl cares about your cultural literacy

Take a seat in the one room schoolhouse and I'll explain the finer points of Little House on the Prairie.  For the record, there are two types of LHP people--those who've read the books and those who've watched the TV show.  I've done both, but the books are the point of reference for the TV show, so that's your go-to source for accuracy.  When Laura "Half-Pint" Ingalls was a kid, her nemesis was the blonde-haired daughter of the local shopkeeper:  Nellie Oleson. 

TVland made Nellie into a major character (seriously--she never even gets shoved in Plum Creek--the TV show made that all up!), but LHP readers know she was really a minor player in Laura's real (but not really real) life.   (For more on this, read The Wilder Life by Wendy McClure, a book I highly recommend for any true-blue LHP fan, book or TV.)  Eventually, TV Nellie grew up, married a Jewish guy, had babies and moved to New York City while Laura grew up, married Almanzo, worked as head schoolmarm and had babies.  To fill the void in her life after Nellie left town, Mrs. Harriet Oleson adopted a blonde-haired daughter to take her place--and replace Nellie as the Town Brat:  Nancy Oleson. 


In TVland this took place in 1981, after the Ingalls adopt orphan children Cassandra and James (played by real life hottie Jason Bateman).  Fine.  I'll post his picture, too. 



Happy now?

In short, NELLIE and NANCY are TOTALLY DIFFERENT CHARACTERS on the TVland prairie. 
Other LHP fun facts:  Laura Ingalls's family never adopted any kids, morphine-addicted Albert was a TVland invention, as were the brother and sister Pa discovered by the side of a covered wagon wreck.  Pa moved the family with stunning regularity in real, real life and in the book, they never lived anywhere for very long and certainly not for nine seasons.  Almanzo never had a schoolmarm teacher living in town with him during his bachelor days, his whole family stayed on their gorgeous farm Back East. 

Finally, many of you Alan Rickman fans are missing out on his most glorious romantic role as Colonel Brandon in Jane Austen's Sense and Sensibility (1995).  Behold!

I was intrigued by him as Hans Gruber.  I gave my heart to him as Colonel Brandon.

Your homework:  go rent Sense and Sensibility.  I'll expect a full swoon report tomorrow.

Spill it, reader.  Did you read or watch LHP?  Or both?

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muttonchop monday

It's been too long since the last Muttonchop Monday. Today let's focus on a man whose musical chops and muttonchops have made me feel weak in the knees and short of breath for decades.
He's comfortable blue jeans, broken in.
Weathered.
Sexy.
Did I mention the guitar?
Or the gravel-edged voice?
The way his butt looks in those Levis?


How he makes me sing at the top of my lungs every December when I hear him on the radio--Santa Claus is Comin' To Town.
How he makes me want to straddle a motorcycle and ride through a desolate landscape with wind raking my hair and his voice urging in my ear, Baby, we were born to run.

He makes my heart ache with melancholy.
He makes me proud to be Born in the USA.
He's leather.
He's sweat.

He's soul.
He's working class.
He's heroic.
He's gentle.
He's tough.
He's rock and roll.
He's rebel.
He. Is. The. Boss.

Sixty-two and still rocking my world with his talent and that face.
True story: when he sings Secret Garden to me it makes me feel beautiful. If you haven't heard him sing it to you, reader, you really should.


Raising my coffee cup to The Boss, this morning. One bad-ass rock star with muttonchops and heart.

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3 things

I subbed for 3rd grade today.
I came home and slammed down a cup of coffee before pouring myself a glass of Road Slush.
Then one of my boys asked what a "Brazilian Wax" was--I'm not saying who.

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anarchy club

I love an oxymoron, don't you?

Anyway, welcome to my anarchy club. I'm filling a need--there aren't a lot of blogs covering this show and while I'm not really the type, I'm a big fan of SOA, so I'll do my best. To those of you not into grimy, violent, gritty biker gang living, don't fret. I'll be back to my regular programming the rest of the time--gardens and Team Testosterone and thinking happy thoughts and the occasional Muttonchop Monday. Except for while I cover this season's 13 episodes.

Because I know some of you fans are deep into season 2 or 3, I'll dish about season 4 episodes without spoiling much (I hope--I'll do my best).

Some of you aren't fans yet, but trust me when I tell you that an FX show about a motorcycle gang in Charming, California makes for some FABULOUS TV viewing. To bring newbies up to speed: Clay is the head honcho of the gang, his stepson Jax is second in command. Jax is conflicted, his father was a founding member, his mother, Gemma, is the Ultimate Old Lady, loyal to her man, her club, her son. SAMCRO (Sons of Anarchy Motorcycle Club Redwood Original) protects the town while the FBI is hot on their tail, the gang runs guns for the IRA, fights against another gang for turf, dabbles in illegal activity. Other key characters include Jax's girlfriend, Tara who is a surgeon, the local law enforcement (which changes over the course of 4 seasons) and lead gang members Opie, Bobby, Tig, Chibs and Piney. For those of you who stayed up late Tuesday night drinking whiskey, smoking Marlboro Reds and wearing leather, let's ride!

Season 4, Episode 1:

The boys leave prison and their women and the rest of the gang waits back in Charming. This is played out dramatically against SOA's classically awesome soundtrack music. Where do they find these songs? Whoever does it is genius. Before reuniting, the new sheriff in town meets them at the city limits with a warning. At the clubhouse everyone hugs and then we cut to a meeting where they hash out profits during their prison time, what the club's been doing and what they'll do next--mainly continue to run guns with the Russians.

Post-lock-up passion ensues with Gemma & Clay, Tara & Jax, Opie & Lila(?). Good humor in all scenes and they're all touching in their own way, too. We learn that Clay's days are numbered--something's wrong with his hands. Tara & Jax have a heart to heart which I won't spoil, except to say Jax wants out of the club, but not until he's made enough money. Tara's scared, but game.

Back at the sheriff's office we learn that Hale is still running the town and the new sheriff seems like a great character. We also meet the new U.S. District Attorney (USDA?) who has moved into an office in the same law enforcement building. He's one of the most fascinatingly weird characters I've ever seen--tell me if you think he's almost overacted--I'm not sure. But he invites the sheriff upstairs, reveals he's highly connected and has a BIG PLAN to take SAMCRO down. Pictures of everyone are lined up on bulletin boards--including the Russians, IRA, and even Wayne! Sheriff agrees to help. You can't help but root for the sheriff a little, honestly.

A little motorcycle/cop car chase and then Jax, Clay, Opie and Chibs meet up with the Russians to negotiate. They agree to do business and get together for a Weapons Show & Tell. Gemma visits Wayne and makes me love her a little more for her deep compassion and loyalty.

The next big scene is Opie's wedding--I warn you there is not a tastefully dressed woman in the mix. The wedding vows are a particular riot and then the partying starts with the guests, who include the Russians and the Mayans, on an Indian Reservation--law enforcement waits at the border for something to happen.

The episode ends in a vicious and (to me) unexpected bloodbath. (Was it just me or did you all see that coming?) And then something else: in prison a guy gets whacked in a horrific fashion--"For Jax." Now, I get these tattooed gang members all confused, they look alike except for the big players, like the skinhead in Season 2. It took me a while and I'll have to go back to Season 3 to double-check but I have a theory. Who did you think it was?

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5 fast film reviews: what to rent, buy, skip over in the DVD aisle

My sons have reached the age where going to the movies is a lot of fun. They behave beautifully in public, our schedule allows time to hit the occasional matinee, and because I don't have child care expenses (Mr. T can babysit!) I've got spare cash for tickets and popcorn. We've got a drive-in movie theater where admission is $6/adult and $2/kid and a local theater has $2 seats on weekday mornings. Team Testosterone took advantage. So, in case you didn't get to the movies this summer, here's what you did and didn't miss:



The Zookeeper: Confession: I have a thing for Kevin James. He reminds me of my favorite ex-boyfriend, so this review skews positively. The kids loved the animals and while some of the voices and jokes were annoying, the gorilla alone made the movie awesome (especially when the zookeeper takes the gorilla out for a night on the town and they hit the local Applebees). The story got more about the human romance factor and less about the animals towards the end, but it was genuinely sweet and had a good message about being true to yourself. Definitely rent-worthy.



Kung Fu Panda II: Will become legendary in its awesomeness. All the big stars came back, fresh villains (a nasty-ass peacock), plot threads picked up where the original left off, battle scenes galore. The cinematography was phenomenal in Po's memories of his childhood. This sequel grows all the characters and doesn't stoop to cliche. Unlike many kids' movie themes, this one got heavy at the end with an honest and brilliant message about forgiveness and mercy. Best part? The final scenes leaves the door open for another sequel! Buy it, you'll want to watch it over and over.



Mr. Popper's Penguins: Overall, a cute movie in the tradition of Disney family films involving wacky animals and misguided humans. I enjoyed the casting except for the title role. Jim Carrey irritates the hell out of me--if he'd play it straight (like in The Truman Show) and quit overperforming like a hyperactive fourth grader desperate for attention, I'd have liked this film more. Rent it, once is enough.



Smurfs: On a scale of Fred: The Movie and Finding Nemo, this ranks one step above Fred. Neil Patrick Harris was the only saving grace, mainly because he said all the things I was thinking, like "Doesn't that song get annoying?" I cannot defend my Secret Gay Boyfriend in this film. There is no defense for this movie. I didn't like smurfs when I was a child and the translation to the big screen left me feeling smurfed off. Skip it.



Cowboys & Aliens: As action concepts go, this was entertaining mainly because it involved cowboys in this mismatched battle for the Earth. That plus great casting (seriously, Daniel Craig as a cowboy is genius!), some innovative plot threads and the gritty feel of the film quality made this a better movie than I expected. Rent it if you're in the mood for action without superheroes.



Now it's your turn. Spill it, reader. What summer movie rocked your world this year?

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below average

and kind of proud of it. I calculated Team Testosterone's back to school expenses--according to the National Retail Federation, the national average is $604 per family--I have 3 kids and we spent about $400. Without bargain shopping (I'm lazy and hate to shop--I went to a shoe store and Target and shopped online at Old Navy and Amazon). Without extreme couponing. I checked off every item on the list sent home from school and spent $200 under the national average. How did Green Girl do it?



* Those Lands End backpacks purchased 2 years ago? Holding up just fine. As are the lunch bags/boxes. $0



* Thanks to my anal-retentive scrubbing and storage of outgrown shoes (complete with crumpled newspapers inside to keep the odor/moisture in check), I bought 2 pairs, a spare for Mr. T and a new pair for Mr. B. Mr. B's gym shoes are Mr. T's hand-me-downs and Mr. G has plenty, too. $100



* Old Navy had a sale this summer and I snagged polo shirts for $7.50 and cargo pants for $12.50. Each boy has 5 polos and 4 pairs of pants--have I mentioned how much I love school uniforms? Makes our life easy and pretty cheap to boot. Mr. B picked up a pair of shorts at the school's Family Fun Night--they had tables of donated uniform clothing. Each boy has 1-2 pairs of appropriate shorts and Mr. T's shirts and pants from last year will fit Mr. B fine--a couple new things tossed in, but man, hand-me-downs sure take the edge off the clothing budget. $130



* I clean, sort and store the boys' supplies at the end of each school year--a huge box holds the unused glue sticks, scissors, partially used spiral notebooks, protractor, calculator and so forth. I tear out the "used" notebook pages, dump the crayons (seriously, when you buy the requisite 2 boxes per kid per year, they really add up. ditto for pencils and markers) and markers into a bag and scrub the pencil boxes. I begin this year's school supply shopping from this box. No one needed scissors or pencil boxes. I tossed a variety of crayons in each case, sharpened last year's colored pencils and tested last year's markers. Amazingly, few of these supplies need replenishing. I purchased: 2 rulers (only had one on hand--the parochial school takes measuring seriously--all 3 boys needed one!), supplemental notebooks and folders, glue sticks, erasers, one package of markers, red ballpoint pens, highlighters and a set of watercolors. The boys don't care about their folders and notebooks, so we get the plain color ones, which are also the cheapest to buy. $20



* The school supplies for classrooms really added up. Dry erase markers, reams of printer paper, napkins, tissues, disinfecting wipes, plastic baggies (in all 3 sizes) and hand wipes. I didn't have a surplus of any of these items on hand, but I had a few coupons. Between Target and Amazon.com (dry erase markers--very difficult to track down all the right kinds and I hate to shop so I only tried Target in person) I acquired the necessities for the modern, germ-infested classroom. $80



* Haircuts. Two buzz cuts and a more complicated cut for Mr. T who wants to grow his hair long. $70 (incl. tip)



Not half bad, I'd say. Most of the savings came from Mr. T not requiring many school supplies as a 6th grader (same calculator, same thumb drive, same Spanish/English dictionary, same protractor, compass & ruler) and Mr. G and Mr. B wearing hand-me-down clothes and shoes. Quality always pays off, so the investment in those Lands End backpacks and lunch sacks was totally worth it.



Spill it, reader. Are you above average, average or below average in your school shopping?

More importantly, how would you spend the remaining $200?

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Monday's dose of awesomeness

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muttonchop monday

For those of you readers new to Green Girl's blog, Muttonchop Monday celebrates dreamy men with fantastic facial hair. Today's muttonchopped studmuffin caught Green Girl's eye over 20 years ago when she was a much younger lass. Back in the 90's when most of her friends were gaga over the cast of 90210, My So Called Life and Dawson's Creek, Green Girl spent Monday (then Thursday, then Friday) nights swaddled in a plaid flannel shirt and long underwear wishing she could move to Cicely, Alaska and make long-haired hippie babies with a particular philosophical, well-read, poetic, free-spirited DJ at KBHR. Sometimes he'd smile and bite his lower lip, sending Green Girl's heart into a turmoil of passion.

Tell me you aren't weak in the knees right now.

Even in high school and college Green Girl had a thing for older guys and while this man was 8 years her senior and much more worldly, she shrugged off the heartthrobs of her generation, tuning in weekly to hear Chris Stevens pontificate in Maurice's radio station and grow the sexiest hair she'd ever seen. She fantasized about living in the mountains and traveling the backroads of America in a VW van, wrapped in the arms of a man who could quote the great minds of literature and history while embracing sunshine, moonlight, good whiskey and hum a range of awesome music that didn't include rap or hip-hop.

As Chris Stevens, John Corbett stole Green Girl's heart--and he continued to keep it in every role he played, but he'll always be her favorite as the ex-felon Renaissance man from Cicely, Alaska. I'm raising my coffee cup to you, Chris--a man who made muttonchops so fine.

Who is Chris Stevens? Who are any of us? Are we one person fixed at birth or do we grow like a snow ball coming down the mountains side of life? O can we change? Shred our skin? The caterpillar becomes the butterfly leaving the remains of his former self behind. I look at my yearbook photo, class 81, and I wonder who that stranger is. Damn if I know, maybe that's the point, maybe we are not supposed to know, maybe that's what this earthly joyride is all about. Like Robert Frost said "We dance around the ring and suppose, but the secret sits in the middle and knows.

Morning Cicely. 8:00 A.M. muchachos. Time to finish those flapjacks, knock back that second cup of joe, get ready to greet the day. Temperature's creeping towards double digits as the solar drought continues--23 days, an average of an hour and a half of sunlight every day. No relief on the horizon. Which only makes sense cause there is no horizon. Our friends at the weather service are calling for another storm and as we know, they've been batting a thousand lately. Hey, let's check our social calendar. Nothing. Total blank. It's cabin fever season people, that time of year when four walls feel like they're going to come in here and choke the spirit right out of you. Time to lock away those firearms and hang tough. No way through it except to do it.

Rain usually makes me feel mellow. Curl up in the corner time, slow down, smell the furniture. Today it just makes me feel wet. What is it about possessing things? Why do we feel the need to own what we love, and why do we become jerks when we do? We've all been there--you want something, to possess it. By possessing something you lose it. You finally win the girl of your dreams, the first thing you do is change her. The little things she does with her hair, the way she wears her clothes or the way she chews her gum. Pretty soon what you like, what you changed, what you don't like, blends together like a watercolor in the rain.


Greetings, Cicely, on this most exceedingly beautiful spring morning. A morning swollen with new life, a morning on which, if I had the voice, I would let loose with song. It's hard to believe just a few short weeks ago we were eating our cornflakes in the wintry dark. Now, well it's still kind of dim our there, but I can see the golden glow of Apollo's chariot waiting in the wings, about to make its entrance. Winter's on the lam, no doubt.

Whenever there’s a new moon looming on the horizon, I’ll inevitably get a call from someone saying, ‘Hey Chris, how bout that sucker.’ And, I’ll usually say something cordial like, ‘Oh yeah, it’s a marvelous night for a moon dance,’ or ‘I wonder what old Sun Young Moon is up to tonight.’ But, knowing how we’ve been tossing and turning these past few nights for fear of where our dreams may be taking us, I’m not about to pretend that that man, in that moon, has our best interests at heart. No way, he’s too much of a kidder. So until the big fellow packs his bag and hits the road put away those sharp utensils and stay close to your love ones, if you’re lucky enough to have any. I’ll see you in the morning, folks, or the moonlight, whichever one comes first.


There's a dark side to each and every human soul. We wish we were Obi-Wan Kenobi, and for the most part we are, but there's a little Darth Vader in all of us. Thing is, this ain't no either-or proposition. We're talking about dialectics, the good and the bad merging into us. You can run but you can't hide. My experience? Face the darkness. Stare it down. Own it. As brother Nietzsche said, being human is a complicated gig. So give that ol' dark night of the soul a hug. Howl the eternal yes!


You know what they say - life throws you a gutter ball, you got to slap on the old rosin bag and step up to the line.


Goethe's final words: "More light." Ever since we crawled out of that primordial slime, that's been our unifying cry: "More light." Sunlight. Torchlight. Candlight. Neon. Incandescent. Lights that banish the darkness from our caves, to illuminate our roads, the insides of our refrigerators. Big floods for the night games at Soldier's field. Little tiny flashlight for those books we read under the covers when we're supposed to be asleep. Light is more than watts and footcandles. Light is metaphor. Thy word is a lamp unto my feet. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Lead, Kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom Lead Thou me on! The night is dark, and I am far from home- Lead Thou me on! Arise, shine, for thy light has come. Light is knowledge. Light is life. Light is light.

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animal magnetism

Animals love Green Girl. The reason is simple: she's fiercely allergic to fur-bearing beasts. Their dander causes her air passages to squeeze shut and her eyes to swell and itch. Animals make her miserable. Consequently, the more miserable an animal makes Green Girl, the more prone that animal is to get as physically close to Green Girl as possible. If she visits you and you have a cat, your cat will leap up to Green Girl's lap and hunker down until she stands up to leave. If she's strolling through a park and there's a dog within a mile's radius, that dog will sniff its way to Green Girl's crotch and be nuzzling its snout to her hands. It won't matter that the cat or dog's owner calls to it, tries to bribe it with treats or promises of belly scratches. Green Girl is an animal magnet, mainly because she doesn't particularly care for animals.

Which brings her to this week's Public Service Announcement: Petiquette.

Recently Mr. G had a buddy for a sleep over. When the friend showed up, Mr. T was in the process of bringing Jax out for a walk, so the buddy and Jax met nose to nose in Green Girl's laundry room. Green Girl observed Mr. G's buddy stiffen and back up against the door. "You don't like dogs, do you?" Green Girl asked the buddy in a gentle voice. The buddy shook his head. "Mr. T's bringing him out for a walk right now. The rest of the time he'll be in the basement and you won't see him." The buddy nodded slowly and watched, wide eyed, while Mr. T corralled Jax outside. True to her word, Green Girl encouraged Mr. G to play with his buddy upstairs, Jax would be fine. The buddy never saw Jax again while he stayed over.

Sometimes a person doesn't like animals by default--like Green Girl, they're allergic. Sometimes they're terrified because hey, that's an animal and he's bigger than me and has really big teeth. Maybe a person had a bad experience with an animal--got bit as a child, for example. Whatever the reason, it's good manners to respect space between animals and humans. Green Girl advises keeping animals and humans apart unless the humans request contact.

Green Girl has a dear friend whose daughter was skittish around even the most benign-looking furry creatures, hamsters and docile house cats made the daughter tremble with fear. Whenever K visited Green Girl's house, Green Girl made certain Violet was either outside patrolling the perimeter of their property or in the basement--far from where K would play. Green Girl wants to be a good hostess when visitors come calling, so the animals stay out of sight. Conversely, when her grandma came visiting over Christmas, she asked to see Jax. Green Girl acquiesced and brought Jax up from the basement and watched grandma love that dog with ear scratching and petting. Whatever makes a person comfortable while visiting should be the order of the day.

Which brings Green Girl to a few weeks ago when her family went calling at someone else's house. The family they visited had a deranged dachshund. This dog ran and jumped and jumped and jumped and jumped. At one point, Green Girl felt the dog passionately humping her right leg. Smiling politely, she tried to keep the dog at bay without touching it, but the dog would not be deterred. The hostess laughed, "wow, he really likes you. I've never seen him act like that before." The dog kept jumping up and attacking Green Girl (fortunately he only had access to Green Girl from the lower thigh on down). Mr. G tried to play with the dog and the hostess cautioned Mr. G that the dog might be afraid of him. All the while, the dog kept running at Green Girl and climbing up her legs, giving no signal that he feared human contact.

The night wore on. The dog never wore out. The house was huge--with a finished basement boasting rooms galore. Proper petiquette decrees that the hostess or host remove the dog behind a closed door or into a kennel. Instead, this couple gave their dog free rein to attack Green Girl all night long.

Did Green Girl mention that the dog stank? He smelled horrible. Like a garbage dumpster on a muggy August day. The dog's owners remarked on his stench a few times, but it never occurred to them to remove the dog from the room where they sat. The waft of stinky dog hit Green Girl's nose with every pounce. Eventually Green Girl had to sit down during the visit, bringing her nose even closer to the dog and giving the dog enough clearance now to reach her lap. The dog backed up, churned his stubby legs at full speed and got enough torque to lift himself up to the couch where Green Girl sat.

Finally she stood and said it was, regretfully, time to leave. It was a nice enough visit, but marred by the family's poor petiquette.

Petiquette, people. It's good manners to keep your pets and your visitors apart unless the visitors ask to be together.

Spill it, reader. Have you experienced poor petiquette before?

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an old promise finally kept

Over a year ago: Green Girl starts talking smack about earning a black belt, being a great woman warrior, blah blah blah.

About a year ago: Green Girl starts talking smack about black belt karate classes, how she gets to play with weapons like swords and isn't she uber-cool now?

About a year ago: Green Girl makes a big promise to her readers that she'll make a video of herself doing karate.

Which brings us to yesterday...

8:00 a.m. wave last of Team Testosterone out of the house for the day, turn on computer and start cleaning bathroom.

8:10 a.m. decide while scrubbing the tub that today would be a great day to figure out how to use the video camera and download videos to the computer.

8:11 a.m. decide if she's going to download videos to the computer, the Internet is just a short jump away.

8:13 a.m. quit cleaning bathroom, strip off gloves, find video camera.

8:16 a.m. plug in video camera, instruction manual and necessary cords. Attach video camera to computer. Success!

8:17 a.m. attempt to download videos from the last 3 years to computer.

8: 38 a.m. discover this will take a while. Read blogs, troll websites, skim newspaper while hard drive is running.

9:49 a.m. discover that she's spent an hour downloading nothing. At all. Open instruction manual.

10:00 a.m. attempt variations on pressing "direct back up" and "auto/manual" buttons while opening various computer files to read the videos.

10:35 a.m. reread instruction manual. Discover CD with software to upload videos from the camera onto the computer. Begin installing software.

10:45 a.m. finish cleaning bathroom.

10:55 a.m. watch videos of Christmas 2007, Mr. T's karate graduation, her armpit filmed during the trip to Disney World, kids' attempts at movie making involving light sabers and Mr. G's last birthday.

11:10 a.m. leave computer and camera running and head out to retrieve Team Testosterone for 6-month dental checkup across town.

1:00 p.m. boys back at school, cavity-free, flourinated and fed. Discover all family videos from the past 3 years are now on computer.

1:01 p.m. indulge in self-congratulatory fist pumping and audible whooping.

1:05 p.m. change into yoga pants and grab kamas.

1:06 p.m. why kamas? Green Girl is studying them right now, they're a 2-handed weapon used in Japan for farming. Lightweight with a curved metal blade, they are easier to manage than the unpredictable nunchucks. And her sword form is rusty and she cannot remember more than the first half of her bo staff form, even though the bo staff is her favorite weapon. So kamas it is.

1:09 p.m. after much trial and error to set up camera to tape herself, Green Girl find the perfect angle to capture most of the living room floor is on a stack of books on a table. And she can still plug in the camera without requiring an extension cord.

1:10 p.m. execute kama form. replay video.

1:15 p.m. cringe. need to begin form further back. ended much too close to the camera and can only see torso.

1:16 p.m. execute kama form again. Nearly fall over during kick sequence.

1:20 p.m. execute kama form again. Success!

1:21 p.m. watch video. Notices how loud her knees crack during kick sequence. Video quality is very shadowy because of sunlight coming through windows behind her, but Green Girl is sick of entire business.

1:30 p.m. successfully load video to computer.

1:35 p.m. attempt to load video to blog.

1:36 p.m. whoops. need to copy video to another file first.

1:47 p.m. master copying video to file.

1:53 p.m. attempt to edit video using new software. Would be so cool to add a music soundtrack.

2:25 p.m. abandon all hope of learning how to edit video. Attempt to add video to blog.

2:35 p.m. loading.

2:50 p.m. still loading. go pick up children from school.

3:20 p.m. still loading.

4:00 p.m. computer says complete. try to watch. screen reads "error in loading, try again later."

4:01 p.m. viciously curse the internet.

4:03 p.m. try again.

4:15 p.m. loading. take Mr. G to karate class.

5:30 p.m. return home and make dinner. computer says complete. try to watch. screen reads "error in loading, try again later."

5:55 p.m. sit down with Team Testosterone and eat dinner.

6:30 p.m. take Mr. T to karate class. work on kama form. get complemented by Mr. O on kick sequence. Booya.

7:45 p.m. return home. hang out with kids. start putting everybody to bed.

8:30 p.m. decide to set up YouTube account.

8:45 p.m. load video to YouTube account.

9:15 p.m. video loaded. Success! pump fists and hit "play."

9:16 p.m. watch self perform kama form on YouTube. feel mildly famous even though only person aware of this video.

9:19 p.m. watch a few other videos while loading kama form to blog.

9:27 p.m. DONE!

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why it's a good idea to see Toy Story 3 at the drive-in

As usual, Team Testosterone had a blast at the Field of Scenes. Popcorn! Playground! Mini golf in pajamas! (Mr. D's a huge fan of admission: $18 for all five of us to watch a double feature.) The drive-in has a tradition of playing the national anthem before starting the previews, and Mr. T really loves the anthem. It kind of wells a gal up with patriotism to see families, teenagers, old people and little kids standing in front of their minivans, monster trucks and Impalas while the anthem plays on The Big Screen. I resisted the urge to yell, "Play ball!" after it ended.


Lots of previews--everything is in 3D. I remember when 3D was all the rage the first time around. Now anything else is the exception if it's a kids' movie.

By the time our old pals Woody and Buzz showed up on the screen, Team Testosterone were lying in the back of the Momvan chewing popcorn and sipping slushies. They had blankets and pillows to keep warm and OFF to keep the mosquitoes from sucking them dry. Mr. D and I kicked back in our lawn chairs on the grassy knoll in front of them. Andy's growing up, the toys miss him, the first scene involves a clever ploy to get Andy's attention. A later scene was equally witty with a group of toys explaining their owner's temperament--"We do a lot of improv here." Were you that imaginative kid? One minute in a space ship blasting towards galaxies unknown, the next fending off witches in a haunted house?


Midway through Toy Story 3 we hear a long, loud wail from the bowels of the Momvan. What the what? Mr. G is bawling. I'm ready to yell at his brothers--who hit him? But no--he was scared. Mr. G who has seen a fair share of PG-13 movies about super hereos was freaked out by a PG-rated Pixar flick about a toy cowboy and space ranger. I crawled up in the back of the Momvan to ascertain why.

"Monkey."

Aha. Toy Story 3 is a little dark, a nod towards film noir, some sinister characters ruling the underworld at the day care. I held Mr. G in my lap and talked him down while we watched the rest of the movie. (I laughed so hard at the exchanges between Barbie and Ken--when he's showing her his closet--what a hoot!)

And then the ending. Sheesh. My fleece is still damp from tears. Honest to Pete, Pixar, cut a girl a break. Did you have to drag out the emotional ending for a full 10 minutes? While I sniffled and wept and soaked the edge of my sleeve, I felt grateful that I wouldn't have to exit through a brightly lit lobby. When you watch Toy Story 3 at the drive-in, you can leave in the dark privacy of your Momvan and no one can see your blooming red nose or the mascara streaked beneath your eyes.

Naturally I got all sentimenal and began thinking of my childhood toys. The most beloved are still with me, believe it or not. The dolls are in a box, despite my best efforts at gender neutrality, Team Testosterone didn't want My Friend Mandy, Baby Beth or Strawberry Shortcake. But the stuffed animals--a kangaroo, a snake, several dogs and a giraffe--are beloved by my sons and get slept with and hugged--even played with occasionally. I donated my Cabbage Patch doll to the neighbor girl who plays with her, dresses her in outfits and takes her on adventures. That neighbor girl just got a baby sister, so I see a bright future for that doll.

As I've come to expect, Pixar nailed it with Toy Story 3. But if you can't see it at a drive-in, make sure you have a handkerchief. Spill it, reader. Where are your old toys? Are they played with by your kids or did they get donated to parts unknown?

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take a moment

Last Friday I watched this brilliant short, "Moments" by RadiOlab via Amy Krouse Rosenthal's MISSion blog. She always posts the most wonderful things (so if you like this video, click on over to her place). This one particularly made me feel all weepy and glorious and thrilled and thoughtful in the span of a few moments. Enjoy.

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Mr. D does hate to make a spectacle of himself

Poor Mr. D--like most men of a certain ... ahem...age, he's wearing the full body armour of denial. But when the man asks me to read the numbers off a credit card to him--well, it's time for some reading glasses. He'd come home from work with a head ache, resist reading for pleasure, hold bills and menus and newspapers closer and further from his face to achieve some semblance of focus--all for the want of eyeglasses. Even after trying on reading glasses at Flanagan's Wine Review one night (several strengths and styles helpfully provided on each table), he had to confess he needed reading glasses, but refused to get them. "That's like admitting I'm old," he argued.

When I got an offer from GlassesUSA to review free prescription glasses, I shot an email back, "I don't wear glasses because I am young and practically perfect in every way. But my husband could use a pair of reading glasses...any chance I could get a pair and review them on his behalf?" To my surprise, both Hillary from Glasses USA and Mr. D agreed to that arrangement. I pass on dozens of offers to review products, but for the sake of my husband and the future of his ability to function in literate society, I chose to review these eyeglasses.

Ordering the glasses online was easy--they offer a full range eyeglass frames--metal, plastic, and titanium in every imaginable style. I liked how the GlassesUSA set up their web site, too. You can shop by price range, gender, lens type or material. Navigation around the site is simple and the price for almost every pair I looked at was under $50. My sole complaint is that they don't show the frames on models, the eyeglasses are shown alone so it's tough to imagine what they might look like on differently shaped faces and heads, but that's a risk you take with shopping for anything online--from blue jeans to earrings.



After much deliberation, I finally selected Politico Gunmetal. Four days later they arrived in our mailbox packaged in a sturdy case with a polishing cloth. Mr. D was delighted. He's pleased to see clearly now and has spent hours reading and working on Sudoku puzzles with his new glasses. They're very comfortable, lightweight and well-made. He has never worn glasses before and wears these for hours on end without complaint or notice. His head is pretty big and the frames are wonderfully flexible--he was surprised at that since every pair of sunglasses he's ever worn have been tight on his head. Mr. D's new glasses from Glasses USA fit well and they're attractive on him. (Yes, it's true, Green Girl will make passes on men who wear glasses--just ask Mr. D!)

Finally, I'm happy to endorse Glasses USA because they produce quality eyeglasses in New Jersey, and I prefer to buy products made in the USA when I can. The company recycles returned eyeglasses by donating all of their returned eyeglasses to various organizations around the US who fit prescriptions to people all over the world who can't afford vision care.

If you or your spouse, child, or friend need eyeglasses of any kind, check out Glasses USA. They've generously agreed to offer my readers 10% off their final order. Use the coupon code "refer" when you're checking out on their site--the coupon code never expires. I'm not getting any more from Glasses USA other than the free pair of reading glasses for Mr. D and the bliss that comes from gloating because I'm right and got him to finally cave and wear reading glasses, but should I ever need to buy another pair, I'm heading to their web site. I told you reading glasses would make life better, Mr. D. You should always listen to my wisdom.

Spill it, reader, do you use eyeglasses? Contacts? Have you had corrective surgery so they're not necessary any longer?

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psa

(public service announcement)

Colin Firth,
more accurately referred to as "Our Beloved Mr. Darcy,"

(there he is with his gorgeous wife at Sunday's Golden Globes--she's wearing a vintage dress because she's ethical that way)

will be on Ellen this afternoon

promoting this movie:

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