Some Things Bear Repeating
This recipe is certainly one of them. The story about how this recipe got its name is cute, too. Make a pot - you won't regret it.

Just When I Thought I the Meds Were Kicking In …
… this meme hits the Internet -- Google your name with the word "needs" and see what comes up. Total nonsense or eerily prophetic … you decide.

Amy needs to either wake up or start getting some extra will-power.

I don't believe that Amy needs sex.*

Amy is a vibrant women with emotional and physical needs.*

Amy is a sweet 8-year-old flat-coated retriever and German shepherd mix.**

We see how Amy needs and helps the horse and how he needs and helps her.**

We really need to shed the dead weight of pathetic appeasers like Amy.

Amy needs to mend her ways and be more of a team player.

Pivotel Skin in Shade D is perfect for Amy, whose olive skin takes a beating.

Amy needs to decide if the boys ought to be transferred to "adult court."

I can even send free voicemails with Amy.

Amy's UI needs quite a bit more work though.***

What if Amy needs an emergent Caesarean?

And my personal favorite:

Bad shoes and backtalk -- this never happened when Intern Amy was here.

Happy Friday, everyone.

*So which is it? And apparently, I'm a women.
**What's with the animal theme?
***"Amy" is Skype's new answering machine feature. But that crack about my interface needing work jibes with the fact that I'm waaaaay overdue to visit the gym. It must be that emergent Caesarean that's got me tripped up.

Ponch Gets His Retirement On
So just how many resort communities is Erik Estrada shilling for these days? Hmm, I've seen him pitching on early morning infomercials for Hot Springs Village, Florida; California Pines; Ocean Shores, Washington; and some backwoods mosquito factory called Tellico, Tennessee. I worry that poor Ponch has been duped into pitching acreage for what will, one day, certainly become a series of Love Canals. Really, can you imagine the depositions? "Yeah, Jimmy Bob Junior's hair always glowed funny after getting out of that there lake!" or "Boy, that darn dishwater made my Corelle plates glow in the dark! I never had to buy candles after moving here!" or "What? You never seen a dog with 5 legs? Damn, where you from? Every 12th dog round these parts has an extra leg or ear or whatnot!"

Stop, Ponch, before it's too late!

Hi Kids, Amy here: I know I haven't been writing about knitting, lately (pleasedon'tkickmeoffthelist); I'm just trying to get into the habit of merely writing again. I've also read every single one of your comments and again, though I haven't written anyone back individually, I want to thank each of you for your kind words. They mean so much. OK. I'm off to ponder more of life's conundrums, such as, "Why does the guy that sells Ronco Showtime Rotisserie Oven on TV look like he's been enbalmed?"

So my sister and I are talking on the phone the other day, and we're commiserating about our mutual struggle with compulsive overeating, especially when under stress. DS says she went to an Overeater's Anonymous meeting last week, and it was good for her.

"I think I'm starting to understand the "giving it up to a Higher Power" part, now," she says. "I didn't when I tried a meeting a few years ago."

"Oh, really," I say, "When did you go to an OA meeting?"

"Oh, about 5 years ago. But it wasn't right for me. The woman next to me had bare feet, and she picked at them during the entire meeting. Then we had to get up and hold hands and say the Serenity Prayer. It was really hard to take in the message while holding this woman's hand."

Amen, sis, amen.

This show has got me hooked like a fish on a line. How could you not love a story line about a character whose modeling career as a Page 3 girl has been ruined due to the burning of her br*asts during a tragic dining accident on the eve of her wedding? Especially when the character has a name like (I kid you not) Chardonnay? I mean, come on!

Happy Monday, everyone.

Saw the funniest thing as I was driving about last Saturday -- signs for a yard sale that morning. Not plain 'ol "Yard Sale" and an arrow, but a series of cleverly written come-ons that, I'm sure, packed 'em in.

First Sign: SHORT BUT INTENSE! Yard Sale

Second Sign, 1/4 mile away: FIVE CRAZY HOURS!

Third Sign: Kitchenware, Toys, Clothes, OBJECTS OF MYSTERY!

Fourth Sign: EPISODE IV, PURGE OF THE HOUSEHOLD!

Fifth Sign: EARLY CHRISTMAS SHOPPING (for those you really don't care much about)

And no, I didn't go. I didn't want to spoil the build-up from those nutty signs.

Happy Wednesday, everyone.

Color Me Medicated
DH has been (gently) bugging me to start blogging again. Sigh. So here's my reluctant re-entry into blogdom -- the MIT Weblog Survey:



Thank you to everyone who took the time to email or leave a comment -- please know that I read and appreciated every single one, but really wasn't in a place to respond to them. Still not sure if I am, so for the immediate future entries might be a bit one-way.

Peace, Love, 'n Prozac,
Amy