Celebration, Florida

From my hotel room I can see a hungry crocodile smoothly gliding along the surface of the lake. A turtle half the size of a soccer ball, rests in the water, surrounded by delicate lilly pads. Outside, the temperature melts my ghostly Seattle shoulders.

This morning I strolled through the shops in town. I window shopped until I saw a turquoise bracelet that matches the shirt I'm wearing to dinner tonight.

Celebration feels like a fake town. It was put here for Disney employees around a man-made "lake." It's very clean and when we stepped out of our rental car upon arrival, I couldn't help but feel like Reese Witherspoon in Pleasantville, or Jim Carrey in The Truman Show.

The Rental

Pleasantville

Yeah, you're right. That's not our rental. Our rental is a Chevy Malibu. There's a car show here tomorrow and the town is packed with Ferraris.

We went to the Pleasantville... err Celebration golf course to make use of our free bucket of balls at the driving range. After spending $125 (outrageous!!) on appropriate attire for yours truly, we succeeded in whacking balls until we popped blisters on our hands, which took all of eight minutes.

We had dinner last night at a Spanish/Cuban place. Damn good food and excellent mojitos.

Disney World is a stone's throw away, but alas, we're leaving too soon to enjoy Mickey's house.

Tonight it's dinner in the hotel and another stroll around town. The Ferrari owners are kind of interesting to gawk at.

I'm off. Away from the computer and back into the SUN!!! Ra!

I Talk to My Dog

When I talk to my dog she looks me straight in the eye and says, "Lady, I don't know what you're saying, but if you would just sit down, I could sit on your lap."

I talk to Muppet about what we're going to do today, what we did yesterday and what she's having for breakfast (dog food). I chat to her when I'm cleaning. I sing to her when I'm giving her a bath. And she talks back, mostly with her eyebrows, which have grown out a bit and almost cover her eyes.



When she plops herself on top of me, she makes eye contact and places her paw on my arm. I'm not sure if she wants to hold hands, or let me know she is the boss, or the princess. Since she doesn't look great when she's dressed up, I think she knows she's the boss.

She tells me when she's waking up in the morning. When she wants her (damn) breakfast, when she wants outside and inside and when she needs some lovin'. She is also a successful communicator of when she wants to take a bath (never) and when she wants to go on a walk (always).

If you pay attention, you should always know what your dog is thinking. In Muppet's case if you're doing laundry, she wants to bite it. If you're going outside, she wants to come too. If your eating, she wouldn't mind if you threw her a scrap... or kept a scrap for yourself and gave her your plate.

I talk to my dog because she listens. She doesn't have to care, but she has the uncanny ability to make me think she does. "You're going to get some lunch? That's WONDERFUL! Take me with you."

Meet Sparkle

Today I spent time with my dad's Havanese puppy.

Sparkle went to work with my dad this morning so by the time she came over to my place, she was tired out. We went out for coffee and my dad had to fight off the little old ladies. Everyone wanted to know what she is and how old she is and how big she'll be etc. And then people started telling their sad dog stories about dearly departed pets and oh, the agony! I was crying in my chai latte!

Here's a well documented piece of advice for single people of either sex; if you want to hook up, get a cute/ cool dog with soul in it's eyes.

If you've ever seen a more adorable dog, send photographic proof immediately.

About Me

Beauty in the Breakdown

Interests:
I like to write and read. Some days I read actual novels and other days I read the Victoria's Secret Catalog.

Most Defining Movie:
I grew up on the film "Girls Just Want to Have Fun" which star the now infamous Sarah Jessica Parker, and Helen Hunt. Shannon Doherty also has a small role. It's a total 80's movie complete with a "Dance-off" at the end. Go rent it.

Music:
I dig techno. In Seattle I listen to 89.5, which is a public-ish radio station run by the students at Nathan Hale High School. They play remixed top 40 songs, remixed 80's tunes and re-mixed Euro pop. Better yet, there are no commercials.

I'm also listening to Keane these days. They're a British band sans guitar. It's peaceful rock.

I also have the Garden State Soundtrack queued in my (pink) I-pod. My favorite song is "Let Go." The best line is, "Let go, there's beauty in the breakdown."

Books:
The two most recent books I've read were cheap, romance novels.

For the Ladies

Ladies, I've just discovered a recipe with a 99% success rate for bringing HULKING BEEF-CAKES to your front door. Had my fire alarm not been disabled while making Easter dinner a couple weeks ago, I would have had the Kirkland fire department on my doorstep. I made Sweet Potato French Fries today.

The recipe has four ingredients which include: two large sweet potatoes (or more depending on how many firemen you want to entertain,) oil, salt and sugar. Wash the potatoes and thinly slice them. I used a mandoline. Heat the oil in a deep pan to a little above medium. Toss a tater in the oil. When it sizzles your oil is hot enough to fry. Add enough potato slices to cover the bottom of the pan and use a tongs to flip them once they turn light brown. Add a smattering (hooray for non-specific directions!) of sugar and salt. Drain the chips on paper towels. Allow them to cool and serve immediately.

The beauty of frying sweet potatoes is that even if you singe them, they still taste amazing. When tiny pieces of potato stay in the pot, they tend to burn- thus the fire alarm and in my house, our security system calls 911. Just eat the charcoal-esq chips before the beef-cakes arrive to save you from the inferno.

The Joneses

It's been raining here in Seattle. A shock, I know, but how am I supposed to get anything done in the yard when it pours? Today I braved the vindictive weather to scrape and clip the rocks clean and amazingly, it looks like the Joneses now.

Our next door neighbors have a remodeled period-home, a "poor-man's Porsche" (as my husband calls it) and an Audi. We named them the Joneses because they antagonize us with their idle threats to call animal control on us during the summer. Our mini macaw, Maverick is audible from their home. Muppet was a puppy last summer and when Mr. Jones was swearing at her from over the fence she barked "Hey asshole, I'm a puppy. What's your excuse?"

"Squaaaaak!"

I'm sure they regard us as "the kids next door." That's why I enjoy having my Harley visible from their bedroom window. It's covered in a horribly tacky blue tarp. The bike's for sale. Please buy it from me.

For Sale

Muppet keeps looking at me. It must be bedtime.

ps. The pope died today.

pps. Say the word "pontiff"three times. It's fun huh?