........And All That Stuffing

     It is easy for me and I suspect many Americans to romanticize this time of year.   Thanksgiving usually is the big kick off to all the colors, sounds, smells, bells, whistles & all the trappings of the holiday season.   As images of Haiti's continuing downward spiral now expedited by the Cholera epidemic it may take a special strain of a "PollyAnna" complex to see things in a more positive upbeat light.   Speaking for myself it seems almost pompous to sit in my warm home and regale about all my many blessings this year; especially when in our own country the growing number of people on public assistance and unemployment is still growing.   However I will endeavor to share even just a shred of something positive.

In the middle of this old world's chaos there is always one small shred of light through any darkness.   Whether it be the irrepressible spirit of those trapped Chilean miners or some small town family who invites those without family or those whom cannot afford food to their Thanksgiving table, the triumph of the human spirit on a global level or that little snippet of human kindness is all a piece of the bigger picture.  

If Thanksgiving was just about the bird itself then it would not carry much weight (pun intended); but thank God for all the potatoes, yams, casseroles, gravy, rolls, dressing, pie and stuffing.   I believe sometimes in life you have to look at all of life's "stuffing," (chaos) and find that small or large little savory rich detail that makes you smile, makes your heart warm, makes you realize how blessed you are.   I look at the sadness and tragedy in Haiti and feel very humbled.   I am thankful that I recognize that it could be any of us.   There are those who might say it could never be in the United States of America; but then I remember just a few years back when Katrina hit and it was very evident that even in the good ole USA there can be third world poverty, disease, destruction and despair.   As the old saying goes, "there but for the grace of God."   It isn't about the sum of all the bad things that happen in life I believe it is about finding the small miracles and stunning blessings that happen or exist in each event.  

One of my favorite Broadway musical show tunes is "All that Jazz," from Chicago.   One of the lines in the last verse goes: "Ohhhh I love my life and all that jazz."  It isn't just about the main event or star attraction its all the jazz or sides and gravy that count too.  Well it doesn't just happen at Thanksgiving; but I believe since it is the season it bares saying.... I love my life and all that stuffing.   I hope you find all the sumptuous sides and stuffing in your life and you find the humbleness that brings you the joy of being grateful.   Happy Thanksgiving~ Love The Southern Fried Diva!

Sweet Potato Pie (Trumping Post Mid-term Election Stress Syndrome)

     Each Season has its change.   Change can be calculated in subtleties and sometimes in broad brush strokes.  It is hard for me to chose a favorite season.  I am a summer baby being born square on the summer solstice so when Summer rolls around I embrace all the smells of fresh vegetables, cut grass and sun baked mid morning dew.   As a child Spring was such a big event because I became so amazed by these little crocuses that came up through late snows under mama's hydrangea bush.   As a kid Spring also signaled that summer break from school was within sniffing distance.   Winter was magic because of snow, ice, and howling winds.   But since we are in the middle of Autumn we'll stick to that season.   Some things I love about Autumn are the crisp cool air, the leaves, the sound of rustling leaves & then the holiday season that gets kicked off by the campy fun candy laden haunting night of Halloween.   I love the colors of deep reds, golds, and all the shades of brown.   Autumn is also the season of winding down.   Harvesting what you've sown all year and preparing for what winter's long if not unpredictable cold and sometimes barren months might bring.  

No matter what corporate America has done to Thanksgiving and Christmas commercially; to me they are important punctuation marks on the calendar.   Thanksgiving has its own special meaning with the smells of food, gathering of family and for me the Macy's day parade.   The Macy's day parade for me is the official sounding shot kicking off Christmas.   Christmas has been and always will be simply defined as magic.  It is the one time of the year my childhood comes flooding back in a hazy Hallmark Currier & Ives glow.

The idea of "seasons," is a metaphor for change in life.   My hometown of Hendersonville, North Carolina is known as the land of four seasons.   Every season has its own smells, beauty, darkness, lightness, drama and simple joys.   In 2008 a "season of change," was upon the land as Obama fever swept across the nation and world.   For some the change is not happening, for some it is happening but too slowly.   As of Tuesday November 2nd, 2010 the mid-term elections heralded yet another season of change for our country.   By Wednesday I felt an overwhelming flood of discouragement and in that moment I knew I had to change my own impending season of doom lurking above my soul and spirit.    So I went to the kitchen and bake I did.
The house filled with smells of my Granny Pop's sweet potato pie recipe in the oven.   My Diva-Licious Brownies the next day filled the house with wafts of chocolate and toffee.

It would be so easy this morning to sit down and write a blog full of negative feelings about the Tuesday election results.   I could be responding to all the crazy political spin in the air this morning on the  Sunday morning news show.   Let's face it the country has been reeling for several years now.   I will not bury my head in the sand like the proverbial Ostrich.   I recognize what is going on, I have to call it for what it is but I cannot let it dictate my spirit.   So I chose to Sweet Potato Pie it right now.

One of my favorite fun reads is The Sweet Potato Queens 1st Big Ass Novel by Jill Conner Browne which I will be breaking it out this week to give myself a chuckle and get myself in the mood to bake my signature Sweet Potato pies for the upcoming holiday events.    Whether you are a liberal or a conservative I urge ya to go check out or buy a copy of the The Sweet Potato Queens 1st Big Ass Novel and just let all this political bullshit and tough economical times leave your spirit.   It is okay to laugh, in fact I think it is essential to laugh. It does not cost anything to smile or laugh or both.   It just takes a moment of switching off that little "negative nelly," button in your brain and choosing to find even the smallest things in life pleasurable.   For me, today, it means turning off the TV full of negative news, turning on some favorite tunes and baking a sweet potato pie.   The smell will bring back precious memories for me of my Granny Pops baking this delicious treat for Thanksgiving.   Having a slice tonight with a cup of coffee will be a little slice of heaven of its own; but on Thanksgiving watching friends and family smile as I cut into the Sweet Potato Pie and watch them loosen their belt buckles in anticipation will out trump any bad election news and briefly chase away the economical dark cloud above our heads.   Life is too short my friends so have a slice of pie, read a fun silly book, step outside and smell the Autumn air.   Enjoy life~ bake Sweet Potato Pie!

Witch's Brew

America sure has one hell of a smelly steaming toxic cauldron a brewing!   This election has bubbled nothing but toil and trouble.   Some of it is classic Halloween camp, think of Christine O'Donnell's political ad claiming in that eerie serial killer voice, "I'm not a witch."   She was dressed in black with a smoky black background and speaking in that weird tone all that was lacking was a gnarled leaf-less tree with a screeching bat flying across a big ominous orange harvest moon.   The latest spending report according to CBS news puts this year's mid-term election costing upwards of 3 billions dollars..... that looks like $3,000,000,000!   Which to me looks like Count Dracula moving in for a little midnight snack!   Ironically I am not scared by who might be elected into office this year as much as I am scared that in such a shaky economy we sit idly by why 3 billion dollars gets sucked into some big black vortex.   The scariest about any of this is the empty words that both sides utter.   No one has a game plan except how to win a bull shit election.   No one has a recipe for getting things done.   Politicians on both sides of the aisle are sucking the life blood out of democracy.   If Sylvia Browne or Dionne Warwick's psychic friends connections could hold a séance and bring the spirits of our founding fathers forth for a round table congressional butt kicking it sure would be helpful right about now.   As the 2010 election comes to its climax on Tuesday I believe it will go down less like a tea party and more like a Tim Burton version of the Salem Witch Trials.   Unfortunately this year looks more like a trick than it does a treat.  Finding a shred of dignity and democracy this election year was like bobbing for poison apples.   All I'm saying is don't drink the Witch's brew this year!

American Pie: A Killer Filling!

     I love a slice of pie.   I believe my Granny Pop's homemade pies hold a special place in heaven.   A warm slice of her blackberry pie in the winter made from blackberries we picked together in the summer and frozen or put up in her unbeatable preserves was my favorite pie piping hot out of the oven.   Her rhubarb strawberry pie in the summer was my favorite pie to eat cold.   In fact I've not really ever met a slice of pie I didn't like or least could cover with ice cream and trudge on through.  However I believe a slice of the metaphorical American Pie has too much filling and quite honestly has no taste.
     The flood of political campaign ads for the mid-term elections this past year has reached an intolerable fever pitch.   On both sides of the political fence and right down the middle of the political landscape  I am ashamed of every political figure head we the people have supposedly put in office.   During a time of our country's shaky economical foundation in which millions remain unemployed and foreclosures across the land threaten to break the back of the American dream of home ownership these political ads are costing millions and millions of dollars.   I find it sickening that everyone of these ads spin out of control exaggerating facts and bemoaning the out of control spending of congress and the government at large however spending millions right in front of our faces for TV airtime, robo-calls, mailers, etc.   It is not only insane but stands as a slap across every hard working American's face that hopes they can pay the rent or mortgage and put food on the table.   All these millions and millions of dollars flushing down the proverbial toilet to put people in office who continue a cycle of saying much but delivering little.   Yes, it has been this way for a long time; but honey darlings the American Pie has been stuffed plum full of toxic energy and poisonous greed.   The pie burst open a long time ago and the filling has oozed out over our common sense.   The so called "tea partier's," have this big smug idealistic trumpet sounding that they are wanting change however they too have joined the masses in the mud spending millions.   When do we simply unite and stand in front of Congress and our government; Republicans, Democrats and every thing in between and say "Enough, we forbid you to spend any more money on elections, you raise that money and pay off the national debt!"
    I know it is easier said than done; but I am firing the warning shot today if anyone is listening.   We have already begun swallowing the poison slices of pie.   The so called middle class is being swept under the rug daily.   Wake up America, it's time to throw out the pie we've been mindlessly stuffing ourselves with and start from scratch baking a new one.   It is the season to demand WORK, not words from our elected officials.  If we want to get this recipe right we are going to have to go back to the blackberry patch and weather the sun, heat, snakes, and thorns to get to the ripest and juiciest fruit.   As the old cliche goes, "don't throw good money after bad," and as my Granny Pops always said, "you ain't gonna get a good pie with store bought berries, ya have to go pick 'em in order to do up a good pie!"   Start baking with fresh ingredients America, the store bought stuff is killing us.

Popcorn~ Just Add Hot Air

That good ole snack food standby popcorn is amazing if you think about it.   It is a relatively cheap snack that feed many with very little effort.   I mean if you break it down it is just a little kernel of corn with a lot of hot air which turns to a puffy white buttery goodness.  I think the analogy can be made to pop music.   Although we know that "pop" music is short for popular music, I tend to think of what has become popular music today more closely related to pop corn.   It is palatable hot air with maybe a kernel of musicality.  The lyrics and chord changes are predictable and usually the "talent," behind the song is not vocally strong.

I would like to take it a step deeper and coin a new phrase known as "Pop Politics."   Pop politics is a bunch of hot air surrounding skewed little kernels of fact that can be puffed into provocative sound bytes.   It fits our current culture to a tee though.   We as a society have a bad case of short attention span, we need our politics boiled down to quick buzz words and shorter details of the fact.   This "need," of ours to have our information handed to us on a silver platter as quick as a Google search has created the perfect environment for these pop politicians to pop up and thrive.

Pop Politicians such as Sarah Palin, Glenn Beck, Rush Limbaugh, Ann Coulter, etc. are full of puffed up sound bytes delivered with sometimes corny theatrics rich in recycled rhetoric but short on vetted deeply researched facts.   They chose a "popular," stance and stick with it unyielding to any idea of going beyond the headline and studying all the facts on both sides.  Pop politicians worry more about their image than getting any real work or results.  They are talking heads with eyes set on their own ego led ambitions rather than protecting constitutional ethics or accomplishing any concrete good that takes into account many opinions other than their own nor embracing any fruitful debate.  They are uninformed half vetted talking heads who settle for easy popular sound bytes over any notion of going against the grain out of worry of scraping their own fragile yet glossy slick image.


Pop politicians embrace pop politico speak using loaded words to attach their character to like "maverick," or "rogue," although they never back up these claims with any real recognition of what those words mean nor offering an noticeable action to give these words any real meat.


Pop politics and their participants are just puffed up little kernels with lots of hot air to spare.

Wake Up & Smell the Holy War

Does anyone remember the Crusades from history?   Perhaps Texas has cut that from history text books as well!   Well briefly the Crusades were a military sanctioned war by Christian Europe against Middle East Muslims.   The crusades lasted from the 11^th thru the 13^th centuries.  Now in the 21^st century we have seen Jihad by Islamic radicals against non-Muslims and now I feel the tide is turning back the pages of history and we are getting ready to see another Crusade era.   The rhetoric surrounding the proposed mosque in NYC near Ground Zero, and the most recent media ploy by some two bit pastor in Florida claiming to burn the Qur’an on the anniversary of 9/11 is bringing about a hint of the Crusades to my ears.

Some may argue that we entered a holy war the minute we sat foot in Iraq.   It is true that anti-Islamic sentiments have been growing in volume since we declared war.   In return it has become easier for Americans to lump Islamic radicals in with Islam because it is a religion not understood in our largely Judeo-Christian society.  

There is no denying that everything changed on 9/11.  Americans definitely became more aware of Islam.   However aware we became the dialogue about the Middle East and Muslims since then surrounding Islam I think like most things in our society we allowed to become politicized reducing it all down to quick, easy sound bytes instead of full fledged informed conversations.

It is interesting that Christians conveniently forget about the Crusades the same way they tend to forget more recent history like The Salem Witch trials, slavery, the KKK, Fred Phelps in Kansas.   So called “witches,” were hung in Salem, Mass. By Christians out of situations we have since learned were ignorant misunderstandings.  Many Slave owners justified owning slaves thru selected text in the Bible.  More recently the KKK claims to burn crosses and terrorizes African Americans and people of Jewish faith in the name of God and even more beguiling is the pastor in Kansas that believes in hating soldiers and homosexuals.   So Christians have their radicals too.  

I won’t go into core beliefs held by both religious faiths that they both share; but it is sad that most that spread this kind of hatred are ignorant of some of the really beautiful tenets both Christians and Muslims share.   I have long maintained that ignorance is the biggest weapon of mass destruction known to man.   Ignorance begets misunderstanding, lies, and ultimately hate.

The past decade we have seen our precious American society go backwards in time.   Forgetting history and repeating it.   We have seen the all too eerie return to a war type mentality that closely resembles the horrific Vietnam War era.   In the latter years of this decade we have seen our own consumer based desires and Bush economics bring us back to a time that closely resembles the Great Depression.   

I believe that we chance a return back in our history time machine again to a time reminiscent of the Crusades if we continue to spread this anti-Islamic rhetoric.   Repeating history as we have seen in the past ten years is a costly and deadly course of direction.   Repeating history is a very harmful symptom of the disease of Ignorance.   The less we know the easier it gets to let those with their own greedy agendas to knock the foundation out from under a society and inject their own venom.   The New York City mosque debate & the nut job pastor in Florida calling for Americans to burn a Qur’an may seem like headlines that we take for granted will disappear in a few days but for me they are red flags that something more uglier is festering and boiling underneath and I’m afraid if we don’t recall our history we might just be gearing up for another holy war.

Divas of Daytime Belting Out "Its Raining Men"

All I can say is check it out..............it is a sticky sweet hunk filled video w/glorious vocals by the divas!

(Anyone feel like a rainstorm.........ummmmmmmkay!!!!   Don't forget the "umbrella" )

http://sn.soapnet.go.com/video/its-raining-men-the-divas

Grazing

Sometimes when the idea of a meal just doesn't come to fruition then I just graze.   The past few weeks I have had a lot of issues and situations going thru my mind and it has been difficult how to express some of these thoughts cohesively, so this blog entry is a grazing piece, just tasty bullet points.

• I watched the documentary on the "God Hates America," leader/founder Fred Phelps called "Fall from Grace," and there is so much to say; but it would only be anger fueled right now and in risk of giving any of his hate speak any further attention all I can say is that I truly deep down feel sadness and pity for him and his family and any followers or congregation members in his church.   I pray that one day they will find the Love of God and all their hate will melt away.
• Love and hate can both be action words.   Hate can speak blood, sweat and tears; but Love takes blood, sweat and tears.
• I feel sorrow for those who give their hearts, minds, and money over to the likes of Sarah Palin and Glenn Beck.
• Glenn Beck being in Washington, DC is a sad day for free speech and a sad reminder how easily ignorance begets ignorance.
• Reaction is usually ill informed fear
• I am thankful for Erma Bombeck and her legacy of domestic satire (i.e.  If Life is a Bowl of Cherries Then What am I doing in the Pits?;  Family:  The Tie that Binds.....and Gags!; The Grass is Always Greener Over the Septic Tank.)  It makes me smile esp. in personal times of domestic lulls.
• It is time for the Obama administration to grow up and start plowing thru all the mumbo jumbo out there.   I believe in him it is time for the administration to believe in themselves once again.

What topic might you, the reader want to see covered in my blog?

Until the next full en tree enjoy grazing my darlings.

Limp Lettuce

Apathy is just LAZY parading around in a fancier vocabulary word

~(Russell Jackson)

I was reminded the other day that one of the top ten food tragedies is biting into wilted lettuce.   I have been known (allegedly~ wink, wink) to love GOOD Southern fried food, buttermilk biscuits, blackberry cobbler, and butter; however I do love fresh veggies.   Overcooked veggies are another tragedy but nothing is as disappointing as the anticipation of biting into a good club sandwich or Caesar salad only to not feel that crisp cold crunch and instead find a limp slimy piece of lettuce.  

As I grow older the cold soul less indifference of apathy like limp lettuce is an infuriating discovery. 

I am thankful for technology, don't get me wrong; but as much as technology has helped society in its progression I feel that it has also had an unintended side effect that results in a good old fashioned case of the "Lazies."   As smart phones, texting, and I-pods help us tune out the world I see that so many are so tuned out that they cannot be bothered anymore to be a real functioning part of society.   

I see people so tuned into their texting that they have walked out in front of cars.   I have waited on people who think having a conversation while they order is okay and get frustrated when I can read their sign language supposedly directing me as to what they want.   The few times that I have commented that if they hung up or paused their conversation long enough to tell me their order they act as if I am the one with bad manners or worse yet they shrug their shoulders in indifference.

I think apathy is the most frustrating quality in a person, government, or society at large.   At least when there is an argument I feel that the person on the other side might actually have an opinion that he or she has thought about or shock, shock, horror of all horror CARES about.   

I think this new higher tech method of tuning out has helped society slip more comfortably into their apathetic lazy boy recliners and throw care to the satellite and gigabyte winds.   Again, technology, Per Se,  is not the evil here, there are a lot of variables.    

Let's face the fact that "caring," does take more work than a shrug of the shoulders or a roll of the eyes.   If we are talking politics here then "caring," means being involved enough to read, listen, and learn.   It means not just hearing one sound byte that tells us what we want to hear but sifting through several sides of the story to at least be somewhat able to hold a conversation and or debate on a subject.    If we are talking relationships it can be as complex as answering "I don't know," to a question about why the relationship isn't working to as easy as "I don't care," when asked what do you feel like for dinner.   (Don't get me started down that path!)

It is one thing to be easy going and carefree; but easy going and carefree doesn't equal apathetic or non-caring.  

Apathy is dangerous.   In a smaller setting such as one's personal relationships ironically the "I don't knows/I don't cares," can eventually erode the basic foundation of a relationship.   If you don't care or don't know about a lot of things then eventually the other person(s) feel you ultimately don't respect them enough to take the time to care or know.

In society Apathy grows opportunity for propaganda, disease, and even war.   I think this recent economic meltdown for example has become worse because all of our outlets of tuning out has kept us shielded and blind to the brewing storms and underlying causes that pummels our financial stability to this day.

I agree it is nice when life is calm and you can coast along.   I have no problem in adapting to a life that is drama free; however being able to evolve means sometimes getting involved.  Settling for a bowl full of limp lettuce to me means settling for a life of so-so.   I still say there is nothing better than taking a bite full of crisp crunch.   I think life needs crunch.

Canned Biscuits

It was not cafe society, it was Nescafe society~ Noel Coward

I have never been able to reconcile canned biscuits in any form.   Even my dear Southern Cook Diva Paula Deen has several dishes which utilizes canned biscuits and I've been there and the end verdict is that the ideas were time savers but not taste bud pleasers.   The recipes were not bad tasting but neither were they blow your mind good.   Biscuits are one of those foods where homemade is mandatory in my opinion.   There are other examples of food that I believe needs to be as organic to homemade as possible.   I believe friends come under the same category as pieces of your life that need to remain as organic and original as possible.

A few years ago during my second go around in the amazing Southern California oasis, San Diego I fell into a little click that was unexpected and turned out to be more drama than it was worth.   You know that pop that can biscuits make when you open them, well when ever I have gone the canned biscuit route there were two things I could count on; I always jumped when the can popped and I was always underwhelmed by their taste and wound up feeding them to the birds and squirrels in the park.   Well I get those feelings every time I think back on those friends.   Thankfully just like I never use or rarely am served canned biscuits I hardly ever think about those bleak days and fake friends.

I ran across the Noel Coward quote above a few days ago and I agreed completely with Mr. Coward.   Sometimes you find people are just not what they present themselves to be.   I could give a lot of juicy stories about this couple of years in my life; but that maybe another story or novel another time.   The main and quite hard lesson I had to learn is that you have to let go of those things or persons in your life that makes your journey full of drama, less genuine, or even just bland.  

When I left San Diego I let go of a lot of all the hurt and anger I had experienced during that acquaintanceship with that click.   The triangle had grown incestuous and  it seemed that even maintaining friendships with even the fringe people whom I had grown close to out of that group still came with strings and tainted energy from the core group I had pulled away from.   The hard part was letting go of those friendships.   I came to realize that although these people had wonderful qualities the fact was they couldn't cut their losses as well and remove themselves from the center of  that negative energy.   I found my last communication with some of them still talking smack and relating disappointments in the core group; but they still endeared themselves to them through dinner parties, clubbing, and miscellaneous other functions.  

I found myself feeling that anxious feeling I got when unrolling the canned biscuits anticipating the pop every time I talked to one of them.   The anticipation of hearing more gossip on the others or what one of them had said or did to this one, it was still one last string keeping me remotely attached.    Even at a non invested literal thousand mile distance I came to realize that even that remote string had to be cut for me to move on in my own life.  

It is easy to stay in something because it has just become the norm or it is easier than just letting go.   Letting go is such a powerful step.   The older you get and the more stuff life hands you the more you realize how precious time is and how little room you have for all the clutter and drama.   Instant coffee is easy but brewed tastes heavenly, so why bother with instant.   Canned biscuits don't taste horrible but they are a very poor substitution.  Friends and people in general in your life that pull energy away from you adding drama, negativity or just existing in your life is like a flavorless canned biscuit on a plate.  

Tossing Salad: Obama's Religion, A Mosque & Gay Marriage~ OH MY!

"I tossed so much salad that I forgot the fucking dressing~ I need a drink!"  
~ June Bug Guice

Summertime brings about the predictable magazine and food show clips with ideas on salads and bbq.    They are always titled something obligatory like "A New and Fresh Way to Spruce up your Summer Salads!"   Blah, blah, and blah, blah, blah, blah!  Not that salads & barbecues aren't a sensible and season appropriate food; but much like the media making much ado about nothing like Obama's confusing religious ties, a mosque in NYC and then don't forget forbidden and "fabric of society threatening," Gay marriage; there is just too much focus on unoriginal material and rhetorical "been there, done that," bullshit that we forget the important stuff.   (How do you like that segue way folks!   No, your Diva is not afraid to reach and grasp when she has to!)

I used to work in food service when paying my way through college and I was lucky (god, I can't believe I just said that) enough to land myself in a new retirement facility.   I learned and heard amazing stories from a gilded generation of elderly folk.   Most of all I was blessed to work with this crazy out of a sit-com cast of characters.   One of my favorites was this curmudgeonly chain smoking, quip slinging woman named June Bug.  The quote above come from her on a day of an event we were preparing for at the "home," and of course chaos and insanity ruled the day.   Even though she is gone I still hear her funny quips and crazy stories and I laugh.   There is no way to shed light on how funny this quote was because you all would have had to of course been there; yet picture in your mind Bette Davis (circa All About Eve) playing Flo (from the sit-com Alice) with a deep smoky boozy voice like Bea Arthur and you may be able to envision how over the top funny this one moment and this one little snippet could be.

Like that day (here comes another "smooth" segue way) I can't help but to envision myself taking on the role of June Bug Guice being delivered like Bette Davis playing Flo from Alice standing on the front steps of the White House and delivering that line over a loud speaker in front of thousands of reporters and live news cameras.  Although I would add an addendum:  "Stop this fucking insane ignorant white noise and get something fucking done already, HELLO our economy is sinking down an already shit clogged toilet!"   (How is that for a vivid statement!)

All of the right wingers, tea party zealots and media are tossing this huge shit storm of a salad with very benign thin veneered sustenance to take away the spotlight from the fact the economy is spiraling downward again, we are slowly (but trust me) losing interest on the BP spill creating a small window of opportunity to perhaps skip out of some responsibilities and clean up and ultimately tying up the President so that he has to worry about wading through all this iceberg lettuce to get to any real nutritional nugget of any count.

The Republicans and the right wingers all of a sudden realized they could not keep using the rhetoric about Obama screwing up the economy and throwing away zillions of dollars like wilted lettuce because they have no real solution except to say and vote "NO," on everything.   All of sudden is this rhetoric not only sounding like the wrong way to Americans without jobs and dependable income; but some are starting to wake up to the fact that "Oh yeah, some of these Republicans were there during the past Bush Whacker Jr. Presidency of 8 years which led to this huge meltdown."  

And I'm not just blasting the right wingers and mislead misnamed so called tea party numb skulls!   Here is some whoop ass for the left and middle as well.   Whining and putting out the fires is like digging through your salad to locate a croûton that still has crunch.   Send the fucking salad back and get a new one for god's sake!   You cannot run nor hide nor just rebut the opposition at this point.   Remember many Americans obviously voted for Bush Whacker Junior twice so our new found "moment of change and racial evolution," is very very fragile at best.   It is to easy for the masses to return to their dumbed down rhetoric from the likes of Palin that we are at a very slippery slope my darlings.  

And oh, as for the middle~ well sit on your asses as usual on this mid term election, it might be a good idea this time.

The fact that America which is founded on religious freedom is caring what religion he is and if he goes in public to pray (and how often) and so blatantly spewing hate about a mosque's right to build because it is a few blocks from a national tragedy & lest we forget about the battle scared equal rights of a segment of the population to marry because it offends someone's religious views on the sanctity of marriage is simply UN-AMERICAN.  

How would Sarah Palin or Meg Whitman feel if their state or nation had to vote on whether or not they could marry their spouses?    Again it is another piece of  freedom of religion we are all supposedly guaranteed in this country.   How can my religious views affect your religious views?   If I don't like your religious views does this mean I should draw up a Prop 8-esque initiative to be voted on to ban your view?  

This is at the very heart of why the pilgrims sought out the new world because at the time England was demanding one way of  religious thought and practice.   Those that vote on Prop 8 or any ban on Gay Marriage, those who care what religion Obama is, and those who spread hate about a Mosque to be built without thinking through their opposition call themselves Americans but ironically their actions and their words prove they ultimately disapprove of America's first founding ideas, they are proving to be ignorant of their path that could shake and undo the foundation of this great country.   They are proving to be Un-American.   Their salad is truly tossed and without dressing.  

Heart Kicking

A friend recently posted on Facebook that he just got his heart kicked again.   A reminder that heart break happens to us all.   One of the great levelers of the playing field for all is love with its peaks and inevitably its valleys.   This friend of mine is amazingly handsome, eyes so deep that you drown every time he even says hello.   Beyond all the physical attributes is a heart as big as all get out.   Generous with hugs and smiles he lights up the darkest corner in any space.   So it is always so hard for me to imagine anyone could hurt this beautiful creature; but like I say, Love makes victims out of all of us at one time or another.

Ironically Judy Garlands drops on my playlist singing Almost like Being in Love and I wonder when a hopeless romantic like me fell out of love with being in love?   I still discover the remains of the romantic in me from time to time; but unfortunately I discover them when I’ve allowed myself to start to have expectations and hope about how things are going in my own relationship and then the inevitable shoe drops and I become aware of the reality and boundary of this kind of romantic dreaming and scheming.

I understand now why all of my friends who were in long term relationships and marriages always told me that it takes “work.”  I guess those of us who are the hopeless romantics think things should be sort of a magic carpet ride at least 50% of the time.   I foolishly thought that all this heart break and being kicked in the heart kind of stuff would be a part of my history when I dated all those losers and found the Prince.   All of a sudden I would have rewritten happy endings to Funny Girl and The Way We Were with my shiny new mind blowing relationship.

The truth is it is pretty mind blowing.   Mind blowing that at the end of the day, when all is said and done and I’ve stepped out of my fairy tale bubble bath that it does, after all, take work.   The other mind blowing thing is that you are in this relationship and you still get your heart kicked around.    Wasn’t all that bullshit supposed to end the minute you cross over that dating stage into the “together forever,” stage?   Reality Check my darlings, at least for me, you can get your heart kicked even by the alleged "Mr. Right."    Friends I’ve known that have been together for twenty years gives me even more startling facts that indeed even after that amount of time they still get their hearts trampled on from time to time.   WTF?

Sometimes I worry that I must be building up all these walls because I notice things that used to ruffle me barely even register in my heart and tear ducts anymore.   But then something will come along and I find myself feeling kicked in the heart and I guess it is at that point that I can take heart that if I’m feeling it that strongly then I must not be heartless after all.

I am slowly learning that not everything has to live up to my fantasy and somehow balance that with still trying to maintain some sort of romantic hopefulness.  The great thing about love is that it comes in many forms and just like a generator when the storms of life have cut off the main power we can rely on the love of friends and family to back us up.  No matter how many times my heart has got the shit kicked out of it and seemingly shattered into unfix-able pieces it was love in some form that held the glue.  

 To my friend who is feeling a fresh round of heart kicking I guess this wasn’t necessarily a very uplifting comforting piece; but he can take heart that he isn’t alone and that the benefit of having so many friends is that he has that much love he can lean on and count on.  This ole Southern Fried Diva sure is sending him much love.   Hugs baby doll!

Takes A Licking and Keeps on Baking

Norman Rockwell helped capture and perhaps made iconic the place that food plays in the nostalgia of Americana.   This Independence Day in 2010 in particular finds me looking to a bit of comfort in things Americana like Norman Rockwell, visions of apple pie, kids running through the fountain of a city fire hydrant, or memories of me and my childhood dog wading through the ponds and creeks in the mountains back home.

Food itself always seems to be a source of comfort.   A common denominator we can all seem to agree on and come together over.   In times like these I found great comfort in the dinner party we had last night.   Good friends, Southern food, good stories, and lots of laughs.   Rockwell captured food as an American thread in this diverse patchwork quilt we call the United States.   Several Iconic Rockwell paintings come to mind:  the young boy and the cop at the lunch counter, the grandmother and grandfather serving Thanksgiving turkey, or the young boy bowing his head in grace with his grandparents over the dinner table.   Yes, maybe it seems like drippy sticky sweet images; but I cannot help to be comforted by these images.

The pictures bring back my own memories like me standing on chair in my granny's kitchen as she made cake letting me steal licks of the batter.  

I think it is these memories and nostalgic notions that are in fact our country's strongest bond.   If we lose our ability to look upon these images and memories and find comfort then I think the terrorist win.   As we move forward as a country we have to bring all the history with us.   How do we learn if we do not take a look at history and see our failures as well as our victories.   No nation exists without the good and the bad.   All nations, free or otherwise, have all had less than glorious moments; yet I dare say all nations also have traditions that bind even the most diverse factions together.  

The fourth of July means many things to many people in America.   Fireworks, flags proudly displayed, watermelon and picnics, remembering the brave that fell in war and saluting the brave that march forward.  In every fourth of July celebration today around the country I doubt there will be one event in which food is not the center of function.   We are a country that likes to believe that we keep on keeping on no matter what and  I believe we can and will.   For me I will hold the memory of my granny in her tiny kitchen sweltering in the humid Mountain summer stirring up her homemade short cake as the roar of a fan desperately turned to give a bit of relief and the smell of red ripe strawberries filled the air.

Doubt In The Cake

I have often heard it said that, "proof is in the pudding."  For me it is in the cake.  Allow me to digress a bit.   I started really cooking around the age of 8.   Of course my first few efforts were really attempts to mimic the foods that I would watch my Granny & Mama make.   I remember the first time I decided I was going to cook a full meal by myself, I had turned 8, it was summer & my parents were enjoying a Saturday morning sleep in, expecting the kids would be safely tucked away.   I woke up at 6 AM and made my bathroom visit all sleepy eyed and looking forward to jumping back into bed; but midstream an idea struck me to cook breakfast.   Now luckily this story is not a story of the house burning down; it is actually a story of utter shock that an 8 year old that could barely reach the stove did not burn down the house or himself and in turn fried eggs and bacon with some burn but not inedible.  The parents were too amazed I think to consider punishment and instead sat down and ate their breakfast.   Emboldened by my first success I recreated the same breakfast for many weekends to come until the eggs were not as crispy as the bacon and the bacon was no longer charred and so I decided it was time to branch out into making Granny's biscuits.   Baking would hang me up and cause anxiety for years to come.   It was not until I was older that baking a cake did not cause a case of the "quits," to hit.

My family, a true Southern family steeped in good ole backwoods Blue Ridge Mountain fatalism helped profound my sense of doubting myself in all things, not just baking.   My mom's favorite saying which still resonates in my head from time to time is, "well, don't get your hopes up."   Now I know that is just a mom trying to help her child not get their hopes so high that they get crushed when things don't come out exactly as the child wants it to.   But for many years that little saying kept me from starting projects or finishing projects.  

In those adult years when I decided to push through my anxieties and sometimes overwhelming crippling doubt I discovered just how pervasive and malignant doubt can be to the human spirit.   It brings a huge swell of pride and accomplishment every time someone compliments me on a cake, pie, or brownie.   For many years my doubt kept baking a big mysterious scary lion I could not tame.    Maybe it was the reruns of Julia Child's cooking show on PBS or my discovery of Ina Garten (a.k.a. The Barefoot Contessa) on the Food Channel; but both went a long way in dismantling my mountain of fear and doubt surrounding baking.  

Doubt in my life is not a conquered monster long gone.   It remains a malignant part of my complex make up that is from time to time a raging ravishing cancer reeking havoc on even my every day chores.   However,  I am  happy to report that a good portion of the time it becomes more and more a disease in remission with every little triumph and small hill I might traverse.   The one thing I realize is that doubt, with all its debilitation is as only powerful as one makes it.   There is always the possibility that your cake won't rise or your apple pie won't win the prize but the amazing power you create within yourself when you TRY will trump that old doubt monster in submission.   Ask anyone who is addicted to my Outrageous Diva Brownies or Pound cake and I say without blushing they are winners, proof that doubt has no place as an ingredient in any recipe.   Proof, for me, is in the cake!

I Gave At The Office

Pride season 2010 is here.   This weekend Seattle Pride is in full swing and I am sitting quietly on my own little version of "Wysteria Lane," just minutes outside of the hustle and bustle of the big city of the Northwest.  I am doing my usual Sunday mix of writing, reading, blogging, watching Sunday Morning News shows, doing laundry, and of course enjoying multiple cups of good bold rich coffee.   I've heard from friends far and wide ask me the same question which is "what are you attending this year at Pride?"   My answers are varied and depending on the friend are sometimes loony; but the sentiment and core of each answer is that I have Pride year round and this year I'm sitting out the parade, festival, bars, & usual Monday Morning gutter crawl towards home in the wee squinting shaky bourbon soaked morning.

I am far from saying I am retiring from future Pride weekend attendance; but this year I really felt like I have been there done that.   For God's sakes I have walked the Seattle Parade route itself in 6 inch heels, with the "full Betty," drag on five years in a row; I've "entertained," the "troops," in 5 San Diego Pride seasons as well and we won't regale all the shenanigans of my Palm Springs, Long Beach, San Francisco, Asheville, Orlando,DC, & Holland Pride festivals.   I will coyly plead the Vegas morality law which says that which has happened at each of those Prides will stay there.   I have given at the office in more ways, locations, and positions than one can imagine.

I will say that with the passing of my most recent birthday I reflected on the past 2 years of Pride festival attendances that they had begin to lose their luster for me.   I begin to think maybe it was an age thing.   The closer forty gets I see my priorities sharpen and my tastes for many things I once thought "fun," wane.  It is not  that I lack Pride.   I feel that it is a 24/7 365 day a year work in progress.   As I have grown older I have begun to really appreciate how my Pride has matured.   It goes beyond holding a sign in a parade or sticking a rainbow flag on your car.   I feel my actions in my everyday approach exemplify my growing respect for myself and as the old adage goes, actions speak louder than words.   

The Pride parties, parades, and festivals are great fun and I believe they are essential.   If you ever experience a Pride Weekend there is no way to deny that the old 10% rule of thumb is way off.   I think it is important to have a special weekend to parade like peacocks and show off your colors, your true colors.   If for any other reason to show the world that diversity is fun, crazy, zany, and embraceable.   It is palpable, it lives, breathes, and at its most significant core promotes a heartbeat sustained by the idea that there are so many colors in the rainbow and notes in a song.    Being different, embracing diversity, living through adversity are monumental reasons in which to celebrate.

This year I may be choosing to celebrate myself and my pride in a quiet place and state of mind; but deep down in my soul that iconic Sister Sledge anthem, We Are Family, roars strong in my soul and hums steadily in my veins.   So friends do not fret my Pride is not on life support, it is alive and well, It is  just matter of fact that this year I feel I've already given at the office, maybe I will see y'all next year.   Until then I send up a big ole hands in the air to Jesus dance wave, two snaps in a rainbow formation and an honorary, girrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrl!   Happy Pride!

Howdy! My Name is Blanche (Remembering Rue McClanahan)

I first remember encountering Rue McClanahan as Aunt Fran on Mama's Family in the early eighties.   I was addicted to Carol Burnett re-runs and thus became obsessed with Mama's Family when it spun off into its own prime time sit com series.   Not long after Rue's character, Aunt Fran died from choking to death on a chicken bone if I remember correctly, Rue McClanahan showed up on a new risky sit com The Golden Girls.   It was risky because the prime time market in television at this time was flooded with youth obsessed shows and yuppie infused thirty somethings. So, who would want to watch four women of a "certain age," talking about the "change," and dating, and gasp, gasp, horror, horror, their sex lives?   Further more would it be FUNNY!   Hell Yes it would prove to not only be funny but be, well......Golden.   For seven seasons we embraced these funny ladies and thanks to Lifetime, WE, Oxygen, and countless other cable networks, it seems The Golden Girls could also be called The Immortal Girls.    To further illustrate their popularity across all age demographics, it seems that The Golden Girls are quickly catching up to I Love Lucy in terms of how many times it has be re-ran in syndication.   Quite an amazing feat considering I Love Lucy had a thirty year head start.

Beneath all the popularity, awards, and golden reputation this show has it was always the characters that kept me a loyal fan and still has me coming back for more.   I own all the seasons on DVD and yet when I'm flipping the channels, I more often than not get hung up on an episode of The Golden Girls and find it hard to turn the channel no matter how many times I've seen that particular episode.  

Given my love of The Golden Girls it would be hard to say which character I loved more.   The past few years we have lost all but one of those funny ladies.   Estelle Getty (Sophia) was the first to go, then last year Bea Arthur (Dorothy) left us and just recently Rue made her final bow and exit as well.   So as much as a grieve for my girls that have gone on, they live on, thank God on some TV channel somewhere in the world daily; but also the beloved Betty White has, at the age of 88, hit her stride it seems, beyond enjoying a renaissance of sorts in her career she has become hip and known to a whole new generation which has reportedly given an astronomical jump in the number of cable stations buying up rights to the syndicated episodes of The Golden Girls!

Yet, one Golden Girl hit a home run in my heart from the very first episode and that was Blanche, so brilliantly played by Rue McClanahan.   Rue herself had remained busy after the series ended doing theater and TV movies and various guest spots on popular shows.   Rue had also begin to hit a comeback in the last two years as well.   Her memoir, My First Five Husbands, became a best seller, she received kudos and critical praise when she joined the Broadway cast of Wicked, and finally she re-entered the world of TV sit coms when she accepted the role of Peggy Ingraham in Del Shores' Logo Channel cult hit, Sordid Lives.   Playing along side Caroline Rhea, Ann Walker, Bonnie Bedilia, Beth Grant, Leslie Jordan, & Olivia Newton John Rue once again turned up the heat on how society might expect a seventy something year old grandma character to behave.   The series has been on hiatus awaiting some legal issues to be resolved; but Rue made an indelible and hilarious mark with her talent and comic timing in the first season.  

But getting back to Blanche, I feel like I have to sort of come clean and do a sort of "AA minute," here:  HI, my name is Kitty and I am Blanche.   My drag personae Kitty Davis was heavily influenced by Rue's Golden Girls' character Blanche Devereaux.   In fact before I finally became Kitty Davis, I was Blanche Davis and then Kitty Devereaux.   I saw Kitty as a culmination of many strong female heroines and characters but felt like Kitty was best summed up as a hybrid of Blanche Devereaux (Rue from Golden Girls) and Suzanne Sugarbakker (Delta Burke of Designing Women).   Blanche continued to follow my private life for all of my twenties and most of my thirties as many friends openly nicknamed me as Blanche given, (allegedly), my sexual adventures, again.........allegedly (wink wink)!

So I will always remember Rue's pitch perfect Southern drawl, sizzling saunter, and smoldering swagger.   Though I never met her I always felt close to her, lucky for us Blanche will live on thanks to cable and seven seasons of comic treasures and Rue, what else to say.......but thanks for being a friend.

BP= Bullshit Politics

I wonder how this country ever gets any law passed or any thing done.   From confirmation hearings to the latest congressional hearing investigating the BP Oil disaster in the Gulf Coast I have come to the conclusion that at least for me this confirms that these hearings are nothing more than a gathering of talking heads saying the same redundant sound bytes one after the other.  

In a courtroom when a witness does not answer a question they are usually considered a "hostile witness," meaning they are being uncooperative and stand a chance of being found in contempt of the court and/or committing perjury.   Yet, somehow, on the "Hill," (DC), witnesses get away with redundancies like:  "I don't recall;"  "I never saw that communication;"  or my favorite response after some whispering with a counselor and a covered mic the witness will respond, "I cannot answer that at this time."  

I often wonder how any man or woman with a conscience can deliver such inane, limp, & asinine "testimony," like Tony Hayward did this past week and walk away from it seemingly prideful.   I guess when you are getting paid over $ix Million dollars in annual compensation plus millions more in stock and benefits, maybe it is easy to play stoic and in the end render such empty rhetoric.

It would be easy to just to beat up on Tony for his testimony to nowhere; but what about those congress members pointing the fingers.   It struck me duplicitous that the men and women conducting this hearing were lambasting Mr. Tony for his "don't know," answers and his very apparent prepared general statements when they give the same circuitous blank answers whenever you see them being questioned on a Sunday morning news program.   Somewhere along the way America has lost its integrity and soul and especially the men and women who allegedly "represent," us in the government.   Everyone of those members questioning Tony (Republican and Democrat alike) have all received donations from "Big Oil."   I dare say the whole damn hearing was just a show to make the American public at large feel like government was at least "doing something."   I cannot help but wonder if the organization of this hearing went like this:  "Hey, Tony we need ya to come up to the Hill so we can look like we are giving you a public whipping........ all ya got to do is to continue to look like the schmuck and provide no real answers and we will get a little testy with ya, then we will all go have a nice lunch, give the people a little show then go home, what do ya say?"  

B.P. may stand for a corporate brand of petroleum products; but for me it will always mean bullshit politics, which I understand is saying nothing new; but if we take it to a larger picture I feel like this oil spill is just a big metaphor and wake up call for the real clean up work that needs to be done in this country.   Our Country's integrity has had a black, mucky, sticky residue eating away at it for some time now and that icky sticky substance is politics.

Grits and Gravy!

This morning I had savory grits with lots of butter and cracked pepper.  Yum!   We have talked grits before; but what can I say~  I'm a true Southerner and I love my grits!   On rare occasions I am lucky enough to get my grits with gravy.   Gawd what a posh breakfast.   To me gravy is like icing.   Cake is sweet and good all by itself but it sure tastes a helluva lot better when icing is added.   The same with biscuits or grits.......they are both good and buttery but when you get to top it off with gravy....wellllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll it is so good words escape me.  When it comes to dealing with people in real life I am more apt to chose grits over gravy any day.   Coming from the south I do know how to pour on the gravy myself; however I tend to like those who are straight shooters.   Every once in a while you need someone to sugar coat the truth; but over all the nitty girtty is the better form.

An acquaintance of mine caught me in a conversation recently and secretly I was just rolling my eyes.   The conversation may have covered different ground but down deep it boiled down to the same thing:  self.  This person puts a lot of gravy on everything.   This person is not "bad," but ironically as loudly as this person touts being self aware and honest with themselves the grit of the matter is this  person is just selfish.  Every subject tracks back to this person.   If by chance I was actually able to start a conversation about anything inevitably the subject will somehow get twisted back to this person.   This person's gravy bowl definitely floweth over.

People like politicians rely on their gravy (a.k.a. spin) to dance around a subject, cover up a scandal, and even boost their ratings.  Ordinary Joe's like their gravy as well.   I admit it is much easier to like what you hear when people tell you what you like to hear; but this does not necessarily get you anywhere near any sort of truth.   Much like a biscuit sopping up gravy I think Washington D.C. and society in general like their truth and fragile egos saturated in gravy and sugar coat that if you can please!   Believe me, I love my grits and gravy but I know my waist line can't have gravy all the time!

Ya Got Know When to Hold 'Em, Know When to Fold 'Em (Life Lessons From Country Music?)

I admit I watched Oprah this past Friday.  (When did we start to feel like we have to sound apologetic when watching Oprah?)   However, my lifelong guardian angel, friend & favorite down home Diva Dolly Parton was the guest and I would sit my ass down in front of the TV with a tornado directly outside my front door if Dolly was on.   Near the end of the show Oprah "surprised," the audience by bringing Dolly's longtime friend and sometime duet partner, Kenny Rogers out to sing Kenny & Dolly's big duet hit, Islands in the Stream.  Dolly had to do a lot of fancy vocal gymnastics to cover for Kenny's aging vocal chords.   To spite Kenny's obvious struggles vocally their on stage chemistry was undeniable and was shining brighter than ever.   You can tell they just love playing in the same sandbox together!   After some sit down and chat time following the "surprise," duet, Oprah asked Kenny to close the show with his biggest hit, The Gambler with Dolly and Oprah doing backup.   Thankfully Dolly's vocal gymnastics were able to completely cover up Oprah's singing, if in fact she was singing.   Unfortunately not even Dolly could cover up Oprah's Whitney Houston like attempt at trying to dance/move to the music.   I feel so uncomfortable when Oprah feels the need to even sway to the music let alone (clearing throat)....ummmmmm........dance.

Kenny begin to sing and his aged growly vocals actually added a good ole Hollywood Old West feel that gave the hit, The Gambler, another layer, a spicier note.   Although I know every word of this old hit by heart it seemed for the first time I really heard it.  Maybe it was the influence of listening to Oprah for an hour; but I thought, my lord above The Gambler sure does have a lot to say about life.   If we can acknowledge that life is ultimately a gamble then like the Gambler we start to know there are times we stay and sweat it out then there are times we know we have to walk away.   In the best case scenario we can only hope to break even in this life.

I will admit that I am not a "New Country," fan.   So my love of Country Music comes from what I consider the classics like:  Dolly Parton (of course!), Hank Williams (Sr.), Loretta Lynn, Johnny Cash, Merle Haggard, Tammy Wynette, Kitty Wells, Patsy Cline, George Jones, Barbara Mandrell, Kenny Rogers, Willie Nelson, Jim Reeves, and Marty Robbins.   To me, what is considered "new country, " is not unlikable, but just not dynamic or necessarily very creative.   All the new ladies of country sound the same and it seems all the men are just singing about big butts and happy hour.   The songs of new country don't tell a story, the vocals all run together.   When Dolly or Patsy comes on the radio you know who it is immediately within the first note.   The same with George or Willie.  Their voices were distinct and their songs all told stories, words you can remember.

There are few exceptions to my disdain for "new country."  First of all I do think that Martina McBride and Allison Krause who are not really "new country,"  have, however come along within the last twenty years which doesn't really qualify them for "classic," or "legend," status yet, however they do echo some of the same amazing qualities and distinct voices that will last and emerge as classics and legends in years to come.   I don't necessarily like Taylor Swifts music because I'm older and so the teenage voice in which she writes her music is a bit too immature for me; but she is poised to last a long time because she does possess one of those distinct voices and she does have talent in writing lyrics.   Brad Paisley stands out as a distinct voice and clever lyrical guy.   Beyond that, unfortunately, the new country has the same problem as pop music has right now in which it all tends to blend and fade into itself because after a while they all start to sound the same and say the same things.

When Carrie Underwood pleads for Jesus to take the wheel, I don't feel much and I feel like even the good Lord above sighs a heavy sigh and rolls his eyes.   When Dolly talks of Jesus and Gravity I hear her struggle between ego and humble confession to basic human weakness.   When Loretta warns : "women like you are a dime a dozen you can buy 'em anywhere for you to get to him I'd have to move over but I'm gonna stand right here it'll be over my dead body so get out while you can, 'cause you ain't woman enough to take my man," let me tell you I think even forty something years later cheating husbands and bleach bottled husband stealing sluts all cringe and look for the nearest cellar to hide in.   There are truths and dare I say life lessons to be gleaned from a classic country song.   Words mean something in any good song and a good song becomes a legendary hit when that those words speak to someone's heart or to a time, place, an era.   And when you continue to learn something from a seemingly simple song like Kenny's Gambler of Dolly's Coat of Many Colors it becomes more than just a legend to the individual that is touched, moved, inspired, or all three.   I can promise I didn't learn anything from Trace Atkin's "Bedunky Dunk," and the only movement it caused within me was of nausea inducing proportions; but thanks to Kenny's Gambler I can know when to walk away or run when a bad song comes on.

My Brain Hurts (Thanks Alot Jeneane Garofalo!)

Last night I attended the live taping of Jeneane Garofalo's new comedy DVD at the historic Moore Theater in Seattle's Belltown district.   Having not really followed Jeaneane's career that closely, I kind of looked at the evening as a great time to hang with some good friends I had not seen in a while.   I did not expect to have my insides turned inside out from laughter and my brain feeling like it was pulsing out of my head.   I'm just saying Jeaneane rocked the comedy mic last night!

Beyond Jeaneane rocking I also found myself getting inside her head a bit.   I got it!   I GOT IT!   It is so weird to sit and have a moment of recognition of yourself in someone else and not really be able to forge together an idea of how to express that moment.   I am still reeling.   The only way to explain it is that for the first time I saw someone on stage try to express how their brain works when they are very self aware that it doesn't necessarily think along the same humanoid lines as yours do.   Her comedy and slant on life in general does not color within any box, it spurts outside the box and into another dimension.   I saw someone on stage being able to "not be able," to express themselves and do it in a humorous way.   That is a whole other layer.   To bring comedy out of your own frustrated and tired brain and lay it out there raw with the full disclaimer to yourself that you know the laughter is not necessarily coming out of a place of getting what you're saying but more in how you are physically saying it.

The more I try to describe my out of body comedy experience last night the more my brain hurts.   Thanks alot Jeaneane!  

PS:   Jeaneane, ya know how you think that Natalie Portman has never shit, that she was too good to defecate, well I have thought that about Dolly Parton for years.   I can never ever believe that woman even leaks a poot let alone drops a loaf, Dolly and Natalie are just too pristine for that kind of humanoid waste action!   (If ya get the DVD you'll get that inside post script!)   ;-)

The Mother Load (Remembering Erma Bombeck)

On this Mother's day I could not help but think of Erma Bombeck and her prolific humorous columns and books on the everyday pitfalls and joys of being a mom.   When I look back on my childhood I realize my own poor mother probably did not know what she had given birth to.   I admit I was an odd child.   By age five I had declared my undying love for Dolly Parton and had memorized a good portion of the lyrics to her biggest hits.   In kindergarten I played Wonder Woman, running around, spinning from Diana Prince into Wonder Woman, playing a pretty mean air magic lasso and putting foil on my wrists to deflect bullets.   I can't imagine why the other boys wanted to beat me up.   By third grade I was hopelessly addicted to Judy Blume books and Nancy Drew mystery novels.   I admit I didn't quite understand everything I was learning while reading Judy Blume's classic "Are You There God, It's Me Margaret," but I was hooked!   By fifth grade I had discovered Erma Bombeck.  I first heard her on Good Morning America one morning when I had stayed home sick from school.   She made me laugh and I was instantly attached to her.   I found out she wrote a column and drove my mom nuts trying to track down a news paper that might carry her column, at the time our local paper only carried columns by Ann Landers and yes, Billy Graham.  

Realizing my mom could not track down a newspaper with Erma's column every week made me put on my thinking cap for a solution to feed my need for more Erma in my young budding literary mind and so I headed out to the library and found her articles that way.   It was while I was walking out of the library one day that my eye caught the name "Erma," on a book's spine on a stack return cart as I neared the exit.  I spun around and to my delirious surprise it was an Erma Bombeck.   It was called, "Aunt Erma's Cope Book," and I quickly checked it out.  My love for Erma's brand of home spun humor hooked me.   I guess when you are running around pretending to be Wonder Woman during  PE and reading Judy Blume, Nancy Drew, and Erma Bombeck it is pretty hard to fit in, so I never tried.   If the price of being able to read these delicious books was getting picked on, I could survive.   Besides, I always had Erma to cheer me up.

As much as Erma pointed out the less than joyous rigors of being a mother, I felt like she helped bring about insight into a mother's life all the while with her rye brand of humor.   I got it and I think it helped me understand a little bit of what my own mother might be going thru.  

During my mother's day call to my mom today we took little trips down memory lane remembering the absurd as well as the sweet moments  it reinforced Erma Bombeck's important place not only as a legendary humorist but also her own gift to mothers for years to come.   A gift of being able to see someone else's shared experiences in child rearing and marriage and the gift of being able to laugh at themselves.  A gift of celebrating the importance of motherhood as well as deflating some of the seriousness of the job.  

Re-reading some of Erma's writing today I am so glad I was that weird little boy in my elementary school.   I feel like I kind of won the mother load:  a good mom and a healthy respect in my early introduction to the one and only Ms. Erma Bombeck.   Happy Mother's day Mom, and Happy Mother's day Erma, I thank you both!

Daytime Divas are a Little Bit Country and Lil bit Rock & Roll

I fell in love with One Life to Live almost twenty years ago!   I was an infant at the time but I already had a very developed brain and comprehend plot twists and character developments!   (Okay I am old bitches)!   I'm sure my parents would say I was a smart ass but I think they would stop short of saying I was genius baby.

I'm just saying that sure One Life to Live does follow suit with stereotypical daytime soap story formulas; however OLTL has always attracted and hired great actors and their story lines did step up to a more sophisticated level than the average daytime soap.  

Plus, OLTL has Vicki and Dorian.   They are the Crystal and Alexis of daytime TV!   How could a fabulous Diva like myself not get addicted!   Vicki (played by Erika Slezak) has multiple personalities and multiple marriages to spite her "saintly," angelic outer shell.   She may be the "Crystal," of daytime but honey her crystal sure ain't sparkling clear!    Dorian (played by Robin Strasser) gives Alexis a whole new depth of evil and bitchery!  What I love about both characters is the fact that they are more than just one note characters.   It would be easy for each to settle for playing their roles to the hilt; but both actresses are tremendous in their respective roles and they each surprise me even after all these years.  Oh, and did I mention Dorian's style and wardrobe are over the top pure smashingly fabulous!

Out of the Dorian Lord family tree came Blair Cramer, Dorian's scheming bad girl niece.  Blair is played by Kassie DePaiva.  It would be easy for Blair to play the bad girl; but once again, Kassie being a very talented performer (she has a singing career as well), has given her character Blair a lot more layers.   It is hard to really just peg Blair as a scheming little slut.   In Blair's case her words speak louder than her actions. Kassie has cleverly "matured," Blair in a very subtle way.   Her actions are still very much "Blair Cramer;" but every once in a while she see Blair take a step back and think about her demons and in turn her schemes.   Over the years the audience has seen Blair slowly transform.  

Needless to say I've become a big fan of Ms. Depaiva's, Blair.    Outside of  her busy OLTL schedule Kassie designs and makes hats that she sells for charity, records and sells her own CD's, & over the last few years formed and performs in a trio called The Daytime Diva's.   Recently the Daytime Divas announced a benefit concert for the flood victims in Nashville, Tennessee.   In addition to Kassie Daytime Divas are comprised of  fellow daytime soap actresses Kathy Brier (Marcy McBain from OLTL) & Bobbie Eakes (Crystal from All My Children.   They all have their niche that their voices seem to fit; but if you have ever seen them live, you quickly realize that they sing and interpret music as multi layered as they do their respective characters they cleverly play on TV.   These Divas rock and if you are in the Nashville area on June 13th you can join them for their Breakfast show at BB King's Nashville for a concert, continental breakfast and a meet and greet afterwards.   Although these Divas rock I have no doubt they will be able to be a little country in honor of Nashville's legendary title of the home of country music.  

Divas of Daytime TV Breakfast, Concert, and Meet & Greet

This entry is not a blog as much as it is a shout out!   Kassie DePaiva (aka Blair Cramer from One Life to Live) is heading up this spectacular event with Bobbie Eakes (Crystal from All My Children) & Kathy Brier (Marcy from OLTL).   If you are in the Nashville Area, please get a ticket, the money goes to help the flood victims in that area.   If not, please blog, post, and spread the word about this important event.

Let's not forget what Nashville as given us:  Minnie Pearl, June Carter, Johnny Cash, Tammy Wynette, Loretta Lynn, Barbara Mandrell, and best of all........DOLLY PARTON...........   I know all the Country stars are pitching in as their time allows........ but hopefully you will get the word out about Kassie's project.

The Event:

Divas of Daytime TV Breakfast, Concert, and Meet & Greet

Time: 8 AM till 10 AM

Date: June 12, 2010

Venue:  BB King's Nashvillehttp://divasofdaytimetv.com/divabreakfast2.html

Tix Cost:  $65

What you get:   Diva's Concert, Continental Breakfast & Meet & Greet with the Daytime Diva Stars themselves.

Possible other benefits:   rumor has it that other daytime stars will be in attendance as well...........

CHECK IT OUT!!!!

If anyone knows Oprah, tell her too!    ;-)

More Grits Please (Hold the Small Talk)

I don’t think I have to explain the power that the Evangelical Christian movement still holds and wields over my Southern home town and the Bible belt in general.   I hope I also don’t have to explain what “grits,” are either.   Although I have had to explain more times than I like to admit what grits are to several people during my West Coast tenure. 

Grits in general are small milled grains of corn that when added to hot water becomes a type of hot cereal (think cream of wheat).   In the South it is generally eaten as a breakfast side and made in a savory fashion with pepper and lots of butter.   In the deeper South it is also used with certain dinner dishes like Shrimp ‘n’ Grits.   I highly recommend and refer you to Paula Deen’s recipe for Shrimp ‘n’ Grits, or if you are in the Savannah (GA) area, suggest you visit her brother’s restaurant, Uncle Bubba’s for a great big serving of it. 

The word “grits,” has also become a slang word (i.e. in the South) for strength or conviction.   For some reason it also has become a word for your ass!   Long before the character Flo (Polly Holliday)  off of the popular 1970’s/1980’s sitcom Alice became famous for turning the phrase “Kiss My Grits,” into a hilarious pop phrase meaning “Kiss My Ass,” my grandmother used to say to us that we were “showing our grits,” when we would throw a fit or act up.   So, in affect, “showing your grits,” was the nicer less profane way of saying, “showing your ass.”

Lest I digress, when the terrorist struck the NYC World Trade Center towers and the Pentagon on that nightmarish day in 2001 it was not only a horrible and evil act of cowardice upon thousands and our Nation in general but it somehow become some call to order for the Evangelical Right wing faction.   I remember listening to people back home in the South in December 2001 openly discussing that if Christians stood up for their beliefs like the radical Muslim faction did then maybe more people would “see the light.”  I will stress when I overheard these mumblings and debates going on that I don’t believe were not glorifying nor justifying the terrorist attacks; but somehow in some misguided way were saying that in fact, “well at least the terrorists die for their beliefs.” 

I was shocked into a state of surreal disbelief.   Over the next few years it became apparent that somehow not only (then) President George W. Bush but also the Evangelicals were going to use this attack as a talking point to rouse and energize the conservative and extreme Right Wing Conservative base and even many middle of the road independents to adopt and push their own agendas.

The terrorist attack and any crime of hate or terrorism is simply an act of cowardice.   Whether you are bombing a building or bullying someone it is simply a pathetic act.   There is no glory or prize for killing, maiming, scaring,  and terrorizing people. 

There is an old saying that goes, “Walk the Talk.”  To me this is what having grits is all about.   If you have a conviction about living a certain way, then live it, you don’t have to jam it down everyone’s throat.   There are times to speak up and be heard, like for example when a whole segment of the population is being openly discriminated against.   Yet, even then, Martin Luther King, Jr. and Ghandi showed true bravery as they both advocated for peaceful assembly and demonstration.  

It seems the evolution of man has not reached the collective mindset that force and might don’t equal true bravery and justice.   In the world of food there is sadly instant grits for those who can’t wait for a nice pot of grits to be made on the stove.   In the world it seems we still chose instant gratification in large proportion in general.   It is much easier I guess to trade bomb for bomb.   As for me, I will wait for a nice fresh batch of buttery creamy grits off the stove.  When it comes to rushing to the war of words or even the war of fire power, I will take diplomacy and thoughtful conversation, you can hold the small talk.

Soup Bowls (a.k.a. Fake 'Uns)

My friend’s husband hates fake breasts.   He calls them soup bowls.   He is a self described “boob and leg” man.   When his wife faced breast cancer and in time a radical double mastectomy it hit her obviously hard; but for a man who loved his boobs, he never allowed the shadows of disappointment to cross his face.   My friend’s wife decided that she would give a prosthetic bra a chance till she further had time to research more fully on getting implants.    Her husband was unwavering in his support.   Whatever she wanted he was for.   In a conversation we had soon after the operation he told me hoped she did not ultimately decide she wanted implants.   He said he could live with whatever choice she made, it was her body after all; but he would rather be left with the memory of her real breasts to fantasize about than grabbing a hold of two stiff and cold soup bowls when they made love.   Ultimately she chose that she did not need nor want implants and settled and in time even retiring the prosthetic bra.

To say that her husband was also not disappointed about the fact that his wife had lost her beautiful breasts would be a lie; however he was over the moon she had decided not to opt for implants.   He was one of those rare individuals who had fallen for the “whole package.”   He loved her heart, soul, spirit, and strength as much as he also loved her long gorgeous legs and overall great curves.   She was definitely a woman who had a gorgeous smile but also smiled through her eyes.   A couple of years after she had died we were hanging out and a mutual friend was seriously motivated on getting our friend back into the dating pool; but at this point I knew his lack of dating was not from lingering grief, as much as he just did not want to play the dating game.   He feels you don’t have to look for love or even friends instead he believes like I do that those meant to be in your life will somehow come into our lives.   Now our buddy definitely was on the market, whether he chose to be or not, he is a looker and has grown into a hot silver fox.   It was astounding how many women and men tried to get in his pants; but as he reported to me he had already had the best in his life sexually and spiritually so he was fine using his right hand for his horn dawg moments.   He shared at one point that the last few years of his wife’s life (even without her breasts) and even up until the last few months that they had continued to have a really hot sex life and for him he felt once you’ve had the best then there was no amount of porn or one night stands that was going to do the trick.   AMEN brother!

At the time we were living in southern California and it is somewhat true that it is hard to find a woman or man for that matter with real breasts, especially in southern California.   It is true that there are silicon valleys in every neighborhood in California thanks to the popularity of breast implants.   I even heard this one statistic on a special news documentary that American teenage girls are more apt to ask their parents for breast enhancement surgery over getting their first car now.  

One night we were out and the first part of the evening we hung out at my widowed friend’s favorite straight bar and the latter half we went to my favorite gay piano bar to listen to another good friend do her usual Saturday night gig as San Diego’s favorite chanteuse extraordinaire.  As per usual our other friend, after a few cocktails, started pointing out all the “hot babes,” for our friend’s benefit.   It was useless to stop him once he got going.   Beyond always being on the search for his own Mr. Right, he took it upon himself to also do research for the rest of us.   This matchmaker trend continued all night.  At some point at the gay bar my straight friend turned to me and quipped that maybe it would be easier if he were gay because at least he would not have to deal with fake tits.   I cleared my throat and pointed out four gay men across from us with pec and chest implants also sporting spray tans.   He was in disbelief.   I explained that indeed in the gay community there were as many “Ken Dolls,” as there were “Barbies,” in the straight world.   In my slightly drunken slur (allegedly) I said, “Yep the world sure is full of fake ‘uns!”   My Southern accent tends to be more pronounced when the cocktail catches up with me and trips up my tongue.   Obviously my friend (a true Californian) got beached on the “uns,” as I tried to explain over his ribbing and laughter that “uns,” was a hillbilly southern version of “ones.”   The point was the world, but more specifically American society has become plastic and fake.  

This discussion turned into an almost sobering conversation/debate.   Once again allegedly “almost sobering,” and allegedly a “conversation,” and only a debate because some alleged drunker queens listening in decided to defend plastic surgery and judging by the botoxed big lipped faces debating us I guess our conversation may have stepped on a few toes or plastic “Ken Doll,” parts.  

Anyway I begin to theorize how we as a society will chose everything from astro turf to imitation crab because, I guess, fake is easier? Cheaper?  Easier to clean?  We can take almost any body part we don’t like and replace it with a fake but theoretically better or perfect part.  As the heated debate begin to dwindle into a more slurred jab fest we saw a huge waxed and botoxed hair plugged muscle man literally bulging out of his tank top followed by a bleached, spray tanned, over collagen-d, silicon tittied fake Gucci sunglass wearing gal pal.  They both looked equally deflated when they did not get carded at the door.   The guys around us gasped like teenage girls watching the star quarterback as the rip off ripped man strutted his way thru the crowd.   His bleached hair blinding bleached toothed female companion followed and she respectively got the proverbial approving gay gasp for having a “perfect,” body.   The queens turned to us as if these two walking and breathing plastic humanoids were proof positive that their points on the merits of plastic surgery won.  

I’m not so sure it won; but it sure proved the point that whether you thought the Ken & Barbie were beautiful or not, everyone could still tell they were no longer made up of their own original body parts.   Beauty may be in the eye of the beholders but for me and my friend the proof was in the plastic~ no one could dispute their surgical adjustments and additions, not even the queens.   I guess for them it is more important to buy a house that looks like a shiny new mansion on the outside than seeing if it is in decay and falling apart on the inside.  

I am not so PC or high and mighty enough to say I would NEVER have surgical cosmetic adjustments, but I’m just saying if my intention is to turn back time (sorry Cher) and look “natural,” I can’t expect that I would really pull the silicon over anybody’s eyes.   Fake looks fake no matter how “artistic,” or good your surgeon is.   There may be varying degrees of how artificial the “work,” done may look; but eventually, one day your knock off body part is going to be caught with its “Made in China,” tag sticking out.

My friend and I looked at each other in total amazement that these queens had obviously missed the point.   We took one more look at “Ken & Barbie,” as they were comically (or tragically) trying to feel the straw to their cocktails thru their swollen collagen lips as we clicked our cocktail glasses in unison.   Chuckling, my friend exclaimed, “soup bowls!,” and I slurred “fake ‘uns.”