Stephanie Gayle

Advertising aimed at women makes me more than a wee bit hostile. I hate seeing anti-aging ads. (Guess what? You are going to age!) My roommate Tracey especially hates it when TV ads use pseudoscience to sell cosmetics or health treatments to women. "Free radical?" "Collagen?" "Omega-3?" Obviously these words added to my skin can only spell success. Um, yeah.

So imagine my delight when I discovered comedian and critic Sarah Haskins and her delightful series of reports called "Target Women." From yogurt to wedding shows to feeding your family, Sarah shows how modern shows and ads chide women and try to sell us (always with the selling!) a load of steaming patooty.

I've linked to a few of her reports below. Enjoy.

Target Women: Feeding Your F------ Family

Target Women: Wedding Shows

Posted by Stephanie at 04:59 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I'm going to go on a chocolate factory tour on Saturday. So I can see "where the magic happens!" I'm very much looking forward to this. I remember watching factory-tour style videos on Mr. Rogers (the crayon tour!) and other various shows and I was fascinated. Seeing raw goods mashed and pulped and molded and whatnot into recognizable product is just riveting. Of course, I find watching clothes dry in see-though driers at laundromats kind of mesmerizing too, so....yeah.

I've actually been on a chocolate tour once before in Vermont. It was fun, but we couldn't get behind the glass where the machines were, though I totally would have worn a hair net and those detox-Reebox slipper things! I've high hopes that on this tour I can stand beside the machines and maybe, just maybe, touch an Ooompa Loompa. Kidding. I'd never touch an Oompa Loompa.

Would you touch this creature?

Posted by Stephanie at 09:05 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

You know what says vacation? Palm trees! I'm assuming Los Angeles has those. So since vacation=palm tress=Los Angeles I am going on vacation! Tomorrow! Try not to miss me too much. I'll return next week, full of stories, and warmed by what I understand is actual heat (and outside here in good old New England we have that popular stand by, frozen rain, falling.) Never fear. I'll probably come back if LA is anything as it was portrayed to be in "LA Story" one of my favorite Steve Martin films.

See you later!

Posted by Stephanie at 07:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I like movies, but I've noticed that I don't go to the movie theater all that often for a variety of reasons. I have a Netflix account, I'm fussy about seating, I hate the ads they show before movies (what, the $8.00 soda isn't generating enough revenue for you?) and I find most movies to be really ill-timed to accommodate dinner and a film but this is mostly because if I go longer than 3 hours without food I become very cranky (and candy isn't really food, not in the context of this argument anyway).

When I lived in New York I went to the movies a lot more often. In part because they got all the movies (even the incredibly obscure ones) and in part because it was an experience. Some of my fondest movie memories are not of watching good movies but of watching bad or really bad movies during which the audience 'interacted' with the film. For example, I saw Scream 2 in a theater (I know, I know) and when the creepy skull-mask man called the freaked out girl a woman in the audience yelled, "Star 69 his ass!" which made most of us laugh and then say, "Yes, why doesn't she *69 him?" Lake Placid and Deep Blue Sea were both made better by the lively audiences I saw them with, though I confess I actually enjoyed both films. They were over-the-top campy and Deep Blue Sea had LL Cool J (recipe for success!) but the one film no audience could make bearable was Battlefield Earth. Oy freaking vey. I remember the only person enjoying that film was the guy seated at the end of the row drinking from a brown paper bag. He thought it was hilarious. He laughed and laughed. I groaned and left.

What was my point? Oh, yes. I miss audience participation at movies. People in Boston tend to be quieter. They applaud less (the very handsome boyfriend doesn't understand applauding at movies as it's not live--but then neither are televised sports events and you don't see people grasping that the referee can't hear them and their considered opinion on where he can stick his whistle). They yell rarely. Although, I do remember at the Brattle Theater's showing of The Goonies recently, there was a lot of hooting and clapping. It's as if we can behave that way about movies we remember from our youth because we have permission to be nine years old again.

Posted by Stephanie at 12:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

When my former roommate Sara tried to sell me and Tracey on HBO's program, "The Wire" we both thought she sounded very passionate about how great it was. And how did we react? We shrugged and went, "eh." Then I read an article on David Simon, the show's creator, in The New Yorker and I was sold. (Article here). So I began watching. At approximately the same time, lacking benefit of that New Yorker article, Tracey also began watching the series (we have an odd form of ESP that largely manifests itself with each of us buying the same household products at exactly the same time). Anyhoo, we both love it and owe Sara a big, "You told us so."

Tracey has sped ahead of me. She's watching season four and I just finished season two. So she has to be careful not to spoil things for me. Besides, most of our conversation dwells on 1.The hotness of Detective Jimmy McNulty and 2. The hotness of Detective--wait, did I mention that? Actually, once we get past that we talk about why we like characters who are psychopathic killers, unrepentent drug dealers, and alcoholic self-destructive cops (not just because they're hot). Making characters sympathetic despite horrible traits/actions is no mean feat, but The Wire makes it look effortless.

The show has amazing writing and of course that's what gets me. Every time. But it also has great actors and a twisty turvy story line that you can't help wanting to follow around the next corner and the next until you realize you've watched five episodes in a row. Oops.

This year's season of the Wire is to be the last. I'm in early mourning. Smart television is so rare.

Posted by Stephanie at 08:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Frequent visitors to this blog (hi Mom!) may have noticed a dearth of entries as of late. This, combined with their knowledge of me, may have led them to fear the worst: that I had joined the Rockettes and was high kicking my way toward nirvana. Fear not, friends! I am at a safe distance from those fur-trimmed dancers. In fact, I have been spending much of my time learning. Yes, learning. You may remember when I admitted tht my georgraphy skills were, how shall we say, laughable? But how I hoped internet puzzles would help me overcome my disability.

Well, a miracle hath been wrought! The fine folks at Travelpod heard my call and have given me Traveler IQ Challenge. Link is here. But before you click on said link, I warn you: this game is highly addictive. If like me, you hate losing and feel you could do much better if you play just one more time, then don't be surprised if seven hours later your mouse finger is cramped and your eyes burn from peering at your monitor. Oh, and if you have a laptop sans mouse, don't even bother. The game requires you to try to place a flag as precisely in a city's location as you can. It's nigh impossible without a mouse. Trust me. I did the research.

Despite the fact that I've lost whole days to this game I am delighted to report I can now point with confidence to places I previously didn't know existed! More than once I yelled at my computer, "You made that up! There's no such place!" Unfortunately, I think my geography may be limited by the game's map, which is color coded. For instance, Germany is ingrained in my mind as a pink country, whereas Iran is brown. Funchal isn't a color because it's in the ocean. It's the capital of the Madeira islands of Portugal. It's one of those cities I once yelled at the computer about. Funchal? Yes, Funchal.

Anyway, I hope you realize how important it is that I continue to broaden my horizons and learn and so you'll understand why I need to stay in my room, playing this game for the next seven hours so I can finally beat level 11.

Posted by Stephanie at 05:13 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Now that I have put book #2 to bed (it's just napping really), I have time to read. And boy do I have reading material. My editor sent me the gift of four books, including Ann Patchett's Run. The very handsome boyfriend gave me several volumes from Persephone Books, a UK publisher that reprints forgotten twentieth-century classics (most by women). The books themselves are stunning, with lovely grey jackets and period endpapers. I'm bringing one to read during my trip home. I also have John Banville's The Sea, which won the Man Booker Prize. Though the reason I picked it up was because I'd read Banville's mystery novel, Christine Falls, written under the pseudonym Benjamin Black and very much enjoyed his language. The Sea will continue my recent trend of reading books that feature the ocean. Should I get bored by any of these offerings I have several library books on research topics, just waiting for me to open them. It's been some time since I've had such a pile of books to read. I feel as I do when I've just cracked open a box of chocolates: delightful expectation.

Posted by Stephanie at 08:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I have found God. Thanks to eagle-eyed grad student, Annina, and repository of all things computer related, Mako, I have discovered that people are translating the Bible into kittie pidgin. Mako says I can even help if I want, srsly.
Check out the LOLCat Bible Translation Project.

Here's a sample from the Book of Job:
Prowlog

1 In teh land of Uz wuz a man calded Job. Teh man wuz goodz, afraid of teh Ceiling Cat and evilz.2 Teh man hadz seven sunz and tree doters,3 And lots of sheepz and camlez and rinoceruseses and servnts, srsly.4 His sunz tok turns mading cookies, and they all eated them.5 And Job wuz liek "Oh noes! Wut if cookies were sin? Gota prey, just in cased."

Isn't that great? When I get homez I am totes giv teh Ceiling Cat thx for LOLCat Bible. Kthnxbai!

Posted by Stephanie at 02:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Hey all, it's Banned Book Week! You know what that means? It's time for me to froth at the mouth while reviewing the reasons books get banned (oddly, "because people are twatwaffles" is never listed as the reason). Anyhoo, to celebrate this dubious wonder, y'all should take a gander at the ALA's 100 Most Frequently Challenged Books . It's sure to make you say WTF at least five times.

Then go buy and read a banned book! Or share your favorite book from that list and why it's absolutely batshit for it to be banned. The ladies at Smart Bitches, Trashy Books are having a review contest. You submit a review of one of the banned books and you might win a bracelet of banned book covers (rendered small and metallic, otherwise it's would be rather big and awkward to wear).

Portland Community College has a list of reasons why some of these books were challenged (from 2006). There's banned for "social reasons" and for "obscenity." Thus far my favorite is Joyce's Ulysses, reportedly banned in 1933 because it was considered impossible to read and obscene. Impossible to read is not a reason for banning I'd ever come across before. Wow.
If it was impossible to read how did they discover it was obscene?

Posted by Stephanie at 01:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

As part of my "everything 70s" project, I've been only allowing movies/shows made in or before 1978 into my Netflix queue. Last night I watched "Don't Look Now" with the very handsome boyfriend. About twenty minutes in I said, "I think I read the story this is based on." It's based on a Daphne du Maurier tale. In typical fashion it seemed familiar to me, but not enough for me to recognize completely. Anyway, about halfway in there's a sex scene and man alive! There is a lot of Donald Sutherland/Julie Christie rubbing of naughty bits. The very handsome boyfriend thought there was too much Sutherland ass, but I was enchanted, mostly because I think there is no way a similar sex scene would make it into a major motion picture today. Especially coming in under an NC-17 rating. It struck me anew how weirdly, falsely prudish Americans are about sex. I found that the second half of the film dragged (not enough ass!) but when it came time for the ending, the very handsome boyfriend said at one moment, "Wow, how Blair Witch," which struck me because I thought exactly the same thing. It's very alike in a critical moment--interesting. But by then I had remembered how the du Maurier story ended, so the ending was somewhat anticlimactic.

While I was remembering the ending, though, I recalled how much it surprised/scared me when I read it.

Take home lessons: Donald Sutherland's hair is amazing (truly, home perm?) and don't got to Venice. Just don't.

Posted by Stephanie at 09:51 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Today, after work, Maggie and I are going to play tennis. By play tennis I mean we are going to attempt to hit the ball in the direction of the other side of the court (not into an adjacent court, as I've already mastered this skill). We both took lessons two? was it two? years ago at MIT. They were good lessons. Don't blame the lessons for our lackluster performance on the courts.

There will be no scoring. Rarely will there be a formal attempt at serving. There will be volleying and rallying and laughing. There will be several attempts to look nonchalant once the ball has sailed past one of us. There may be apologies to people who may be playing in adjacent courts. There will be fun.

Maggie and I already have poor playing excuses in store for this evening. Mine is my rotator cuff. Hers is being sore from playing tennis with her dad on Sunday. "He wanted to keep score," she told me yesterday.
"Like a real game?" My tone was full of horror and pity. What kind of man was Maggie's father?
"Yeah, but I fixed it," she said. "I said, let's keep rallying for a while." She also scored the better half of the court at some point and refused to change sides, so as to keep the good half of the court. I admire that.

So if you happen to see two incredibly hot, inept tennis players in the Cambridge/Somerville area courts tonight, duck and run. It's in your best interests.

Posted by Stephanie at 04:19 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

As a confirmed Masshole and sweetaholic, I like my doughnuts. So imagine my excitement when I came across an article entitled, "America's Best Doughnuts." Huzzah! Like a pointer dog to a falcon, this article can point my ravenous maw in the right direction.

Thus imagine my pain when I read further and discovered that I was mere footsteps away from Vermont's best doughnuts mere days ago and I didn't eat one. Not one! I saw the doughnut shop and verily did i consider entering but I believe that on the first occasion it was closed and on the second occasion I was overheated and not feeling the doughnut love. Damn my delicate constitution!

Of course, much like any "best of" list, omissions will occur, mistakes will be made. But I prefer to think of such lists as guidelines anyway.

Oh my God. What if I planned my book readings around the locations of the doughnut stores listed? After all, I discovered that Northshire Bookstore (also very near where we vacationed in VT) is fabulous--exactly my kind of bookstore. If we return I can do a reading there and get the doughnuts I missed from Mrs. Murphy's. It's a win-win!
This is an excellent idea.

Posted by Stephanie at 01:25 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

It's been one of those weeks. One of those weeks in which a friend calls and I have to tell her I'm sorry, but I'm booked every day/night this week and can we hang out sometime after the next ten days? Yikes. I don't like being this busy. This busy means I see the very handsome boyfriend infrequently at best. We just had a date last night after over a week of being on separate coasts/finishing our final classes. This busy means the writing is not progressing apace. This busy means laundry accumulation.

The good news is that I'm going on mini-holiday to belatedly celebrate the very handsome boyfriend's birthday. I'm looking forward to escaping my everyday life and swapping it for something more novel and (let's hope) relaxed. Plus, part of the trip involves falconry! That could help with the writing. I've had a recent fascination with animals as characters/narrators. And this time I'll remember to bring my notebook (which I forgot last weekend at reunion). There's nothing worse than being somewhere without access to paper (or pen).

That reminds me that as a child I thought families that didn't have lots of loose paper in their "junk drawer" were strange. If they had to rip a page from the telephone book to jot down notes I thought they were crazy. It's the same way I feel about people who tell me they don't read for pleasure. Sure, they exist. But how? No, really, how?

Okay, this post has turned my mood around. I went from stress to childhood memory to gratitude that in the next 24 minutes I can take myself out in the sunshine and read during lunch. Thank you blog.

Posted by Stephanie at 09:39 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Remember the bug that flew up my nose and that I accidentally swallowed last week?
During tonight's run a tiny bug flew into my right eye. So I'm rubbing at my eye, jogging, and thinking, "There's a bug in my eye! What is it with these bugs? Why have they got it in for me?"
I rubbed my eye to the point where I could no longer feel it, and I actually managed to forget about it after I got home. But a few hours after I'd showered I looked into the mirror and saw most of it's lifeless buggy corpse on the area below my lower lashes. Terrific.

Warning to bugs: stop attacking me! It never ends well for you. Plus, it's kind of freaking me out. Twice in one week?

Posted by Stephanie at 07:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I'm back from reunion. Damn, Smith College is pretty. I have a soft spot for ivy and brick. And yes, yes, the new student center has neither brick nor ivy, but it's...um...useful.

I had a wonderful time seeing friends and staying in the dorms, although everyone said the same thing, "Were our beds this bad? Really? How did we sleep?" The mattresses did lack a certain support system. Despite this, due to extreme exhaustion, I slept like a rock with no ill side effects upon waking.

Everyone liked my new hair cut including a vocal gentleman on a bench downtown. When I walked past with Mandy and Mollee, we heard him declare, "I like the looks of the red-haired one!" Gee, thanks sir. I've warned the very handsome boyfriend that he has a rival for my affections. He took it in stride.

I attended my class wine tasting, which featured a lecture by a geology professor on terroir (the earth and atmospheric conditions that make wine taste as it does). It was fascinating. Then we did blind taste tests with chardonnays and burgandies. Classy lady that I am, I unerringly liked the cheapest wines in both taste tests! Good to know my taste is in line with my finances.

Last night we played Trivial Pursuit (the 90s edition). My team was getting beaten by the team led by Andrea (whose scary competitive streak makes mine look tame). There were some very funny moments and some incredible saves, but in the end my team won it all. Winning answer: tomatoes. (Good on David for getting it right and letting us stop the madness and go to bed).

So to summarize, I've listed some highlights of reunion '07 below.

Scariest moment: seeing the man dressed in full clown regalia at the bus station. I fear clowns. Who doesn't? Thank God his path and mine diverged at this point.

Dumbest moment: locking myself and my roommate out of our dorm room. Thanks for letting us back in, campus security!

Number of times I told people my 'Latino gameshow star husband story': none. Can you believe it?

Amount of rainfall: a lot.

Biggest surprise: the bathrooms. Our old dorm's bathrooms were renovated (much nicer now) but the wallpaper of the bathroom in the dorm where we stayed this weekend was the original that I remember. Damn, that orange print is seizure-inducing!

Smith College paraphernalia purchased: one new t-shirt. Seems like I buy one every ten years.

Things I 'didn't miss': the ugly "silk feel" yellow scarves they distributed to our class before I arrived on campus. As Colleen said, "I don't think whoever made these has felt real silk, if he thinks it's 'silk feel.'"

All in all, a splendid time.

Posted by Stephanie at 06:57 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I'm leaving town tomorrow: to attend my college reunion. I will be traveling sans computer, so, until Sunday expect silence on this end. It will be very nice to see friends I haven't seen since the last wedding we all attended. Truly, the only time I see most of these folks is at weddings and since those have declined in recent years I don't get to see them at all.

I was just packing for the trip and I thought: wouldn't it be funny to wear a ring to reunion and pretend I married a famous Latino game show host? I'll call him Julio and tell everyone about our cinco ninos. I think this is why I became a writer: I really enjoy telling stories.

Of course I won't actually wear a ring and spin this tale, but it's appealing. I could tell everyone tales about the very handsome boyfriend, who won't be there because he's at a conference, but no...they met him at the last wedding. That won't work.

Damn. I might be stuck with the truth.
Or...I could make up wild stories about the friends who don't show up for reunion.
Serve them right.

And won't they be surprised when a friend asks them how their trial for racketeering is going?

Posted by Stephanie at 09:11 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

My mother telephoned me to inform me that my grandfather (whom we call Bumpa) had been evicted from his nursing home. The same nursing home he moved into two and a half days ago.

"You're kidding! Why?"
"He went for a walk."

Please note that while the nursing home he was in, and which he was excited about moving to is lovely, the surrounding area is not. It's rough. So they don't let their residents walk unescorted outside. My Bumpa loves to walk. They placed a heavy duty plastic "wander guard" on his ankle that rang every time he approached an exit.

My Bumpa is the first resident ever to cut through his bracelet and get away. He came back, but the staff insisted he couldn't stay as they couldn't be responsible for what might happen while he was off property. So they've moved him to another facility that has enclosed grounds he can wander at will.

I told my Mom, "I'm oddly proud of him for cutting through that bracelet."
She said she was too.

Here's to Bumpa, and his freedom.
I hope the new place is nice, and that he enjoys the views.

Posted by Stephanie at 08:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

So I'm back.
DC was great, if unseasonably cold. It was very odd to be walking among snowflakes while surrounded by blooming trees and flowers. They've got tulips, cherry blossoms, hydrangeas, pansies. So when we got to our humble home I half expected the garden to look green and happy. It didn't. It looked brown and dead.

I did a virtual whirlwind of monuments while touring our nation's capital: I saw Jefferson, FDR, Lincoln and several war monuments: Korea, Vietnam, World War II (which Sara insisted we see because she thinks it aesthetically hideous). The Korean War memorial, of which I knew nothing, really surprised me. The silvery statues look as though they are stealthily creeping, their gear-laden backs hunched. It gave me a sense of men in battle, which is something few memorials do.

And of course I saw the panda. And of course he was adorable. He's a panda: it's in his DNA.

Now that I'm back and have done laundry and made enough banana bread to feed a small village it's time to get back to it: writing, that is. Stories, alas, do not write themselves. Not matter what they tell you.

Posted by Stephanie at 08:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Okay, my bags are packed and I'm ready to fly.
(I already told Tracey she has to hold my hand on take off.)
We're going to DC!
It's a roommates reunion!

And you know what DC has? Pandas! Pandas! Pandas!
Butterstick, I'm coming to see you!

We'll return to our regularly scheduled program next week.

Posted by Stephanie at 03:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I am listening to a CD by my friend Patty Keough. Patty has frenetic energy unless she doesn't but most of the time she does. When I'm with her I generally feel very, very quiet. Anyway Patty plays guitar and sings, two skills that awe poor tone deaf me.

Patty is cool because she doesn't try to jolly you out of bad moods. She'll agree that the government/world/workplace is truly awful and poor you, you need a cookie or a drink or both.

Anyway I just discovered her blog because I realized I had not cheked out her site in some time and wondered when/where her next shows will be.
You can visit too! Go here: http://www.pattykeough.com/index2.html

Her blog made me laugh because she admits her feral cat Le Monstaire hates it when she sings. Ouch! Everyone's a critic.

Ooh. My favorite song is on. "Missy's birthday." Very catchy refrain.If you'll excuse me I'm going to sing along. I don't have any judgmental cats to hiss at me, so I should be safe.

Posted by Stephanie at 05:48 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Okay, so remember how enamored I was of my freedom?
I have a confession.
I have no idea what to do with myself for hours if not write.
Yup.
A little over 36 hours into my freedom from writing binge and I find myself thinking about book #3.
I have to remind myself that in less than a week I'll have to polish and scrub book #2.
It's not asif I don't have a day job.
When did I become so utterly incapable of slacking?

Posted by Stephanie at 07:11 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

It's finished! I completed the down and dirty draft of book #2 just before I visited family for the holidays. In celebration, I am giving myself until January 1st to relax and not write a single word if I feel so inclined toward that brand of laziness.

This reprieve allows me to indulge in all manner of things I've not had the time or inclination to do, such as:

Reading. I just finished Laura Lipmann's Every Secret Thing and quite enjoyed it. I have a stack of books by the bed awaiting my now-able-to-read eyes.

Cooking. Oh the sad food products I consume at the height of busy writing. Best left unsaid, really. I just got an Ina Garten cookbook and man, oh man, I'm already putting it to use. I made roasted potato and fennel soup and hoo-damn! It rocked! So yummy.

Baking. I have my eyes on the coconut cupcake recipe in the same cookbook. I'll have to wait until later this week though, when the roommates return. Otherwise I'll have to consume all 18 cupcakes.

Movies. I used to watch a lot more movies, both in the theaters and at home, but my viewing fell off since my free time per night was averaging 45 minutes on a good night. I plan to watch The Thomas Crown Affair tonight (the Brosnan/Russo version). I really dig that movie. Clever thieves turn me on.

Contacting friends. I have been absolutely crap about keeping in touch lately. I must and will amend this.

Sometimes you don't quite realize how crazy-busy things have become until they stop.

If you'll excuse me, I have a date with an art thief and a bowl of popcorn with melted chocolate chips (don't make that face--it's delicious!)

Posted by Stephanie at 06:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Many months ago a little publication called 400 Words sent out a call for true stories of personal compulsions (all of 400 words or less). Oh boy, I thought. I have compulsions! And then I settled on submitting the one I was fairly certain they had not gotten before: my panda cam viewing compulsion.

During his early months at the National Zoo, I watched Butterstick (Tai Shan) the baby panda every day on panda cam. Often I would check the site more than once an hour, every day. His fuzzy face captivated me. It also had a soothing effect unlike anything else I can compare it to, except strong prescription pain drugs. Butterstick lowers my blood pressure. They should prescribe him to people with rage issues. No one can be angry while watching him tumble about.

So the Compulsions issue of 400 Words came to print and I got my issue. Since then the 'stick has gained about 70 pounds and he now subsists largely on bamboo, not mother's milk. I don't watch him on panda cam as often, but when I do I still get the same rush of endorphins. Butterstick makes me happy. As compulsions go, it's pretty tame, and a damn sight better than smoking.

Posted by Stephanie at 07:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

This year, I had two Thanksgivings. One at my sister's house, and one at my house, and I didn't have to cook a turkey for either. Yippee! Though I did make the cardamom rolls and I knew they would be judged in the brutal spirit of honesty by my family. The verdict: "They taste great but look more like cinammon buns." Yeah, yeah, shove it in your mouth people.

Of course the buns nearly didn't make the 2 hour 20 minute drive to my sister's house. The very handsome boyfriend and I planned to eat them if we were in the car much longer. Bumper to bumper traffic + pouring rain = not happy fun times.

In the end, however, I ate two delicious Thanksgiving meals, enjoyed spending time with my family, boyfriend, and roomies, and managed not to kill the older brother when he pointed to my author photo and said, "That's the picture you chose? Why?" Brutal honesty indeed.

Posted by Stephanie at 03:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

So two weeks ago I bought an Ipod. I know, I know, I am just blazing those trendsetting trails. So yes, it's great and wee and holds tons of music but the thing I like best about the Ipod: editing albums. I only upload the songs I love from my various CDs. No longer do I have to listen to the less than stellar tracks, or the songs that were popular for radio but were always my least favorite. Nope, with Ipod by my side we can say, "Cut it!" This has allowed me to preserve the best of Frente's Marvin the Album, the best of the best of David Bowie, and, in the cases of compilation CDs, get the one track I was seeking.

The Ipod as editor. Now if only they could do the same things for films. If I could edit Pirates of the Caribbean Part 2, I would be one happy chica. Because honestly: only one moving-ball-action scene per movie!

Posted by Stephanie at 07:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Playing Scrabble in my family involves a lot of trash talk. One might argue it's a healthy way for us to express our aggression over a friendly game. One might also argue that we Gayles are insane. It would not be the first time this idea has been expressed.

My family plays by some unconventional rules. We have a house rule that if you draw three tiles of the same letter you can throw the third one back and pick a fresh tile. You won't find that in the rule book. We also use the official Scrabble dictionary. By use, I mean we check opponent's words but we also "go shopping" when we want to find a word we hope exists. Sometimes the word does. We don't call that cheating. We call it increasing our vocabulary.

Continue reading "Scrabble and Trash Talk" »

Posted by Stephanie at 08:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)