French Christmas

The Return of Ladies Who Kick Ass

That’s right, the “Ladies Who Kick Ass” series is making a comeback. I watched HBO’s new show, The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency, on Sunday night, and ohmygoodness does the leading lady kick ass in all sorts of ways. The story unfolds as Precious Ramotswe moves to the city to start her own detective agency. Not only does she have the smarts of Sherlock Holmes and the balls of Marc Antony, but she's got the body and booty to match. (It's so nice to see a curvy girl FINALLY get promoted from the perpetual sidekick role!) Watching her handle assorted mysteries and take on the local drug lord, Charlie Kgotso (aka Idris Elba, aka Stringer Bell from The Wire), is a true pleasure. The pilot's currently on rerun and the new episode premiers next Sunday at 7:00 p.m. CST, so set your Tivo!      
 

Way to go, Spring!

I know you and winter are really duking it out. I thought you had him, and then he pulls out that unexpected snow flurry late in the tenth round yesterday. They can't count you out yet, though. I know you've still got some fight left in you, because I saw a robin yesterday. The first one of the season. 

Here's hoping you come out swinging this week.  

Photo: Not the robin I saw, but pretty close via Istock.

Traditions Gone Bad

Chicago announced last week that its infamous South Side St. Patrick's Day Parade is being cancelled. What started out as a simple neighborhood party has turned into a drunken cluster#$*!, where partygoers pee on people's lawns and attack local police officers. It sounds like what's happened to Mardi Gras in New Orleans, or to the Naked Mile at U of M. What does it say about us Americans that we consistently take the coolest parties and turn them into depraved orgies?

A Suggestion for Facebook

Still not sure how I feel about the new layout . . . but I think instead of being able to send pokes, you should be able to send hugs.

Karma

I don’t know if I believe in luck, but I definitely believe in karma. It requires a little patience. It requires a little forethought. It requires an ability to look at the bigger picture. But while Lady Luck in unpredictable, karma comes through every time. Not always when you want it, but definitely when you need it.

(That guy that hit me last November and only got $235 in fines? Is now going to have to pay my insurance company $700, $500 of which is going directly into my pocket for pain and suffering. Holler!)

Breaking Bad Habits

This weekend, I found out the best way to break a bad habit is to get the stomach flu.

I have a lot of bad habits, but one of the worst is my nit-picky, neat clean freakness. It drives my boyfriend insane, and rightfully so. There is nothing worse than trying to cook dinner when you’re eagle-eyed girlfriend is perched on the couch, pretending to watch Rock of Love Bus but actually monitoring every move you make and screaming about the pasta sauce that’s splattering all over the stove.

I have tried and tried and tried to change my ways. I know it’s obnoxious. I know it’s rude. But it’s tough when a microscopic spec of Cheeze-it evokes a Pavlovian response to grab the dustbuster and canvas all surfaces in the apartment.

When your body is rejecting nourishment in all shapes and sizes, however, there’s just no extraneous energy to devote to dustbusting. Or bleaching. Or sterilizing. For the first hour or so on the couch, I stressed about the dirty laundry I could hear piling up in the closet, but after awhile, I realized I didn’t have energy for that either. So I let it go. And surprise: my apartment didn’t turn into a garbage dump like I thought it would.

It’s now been 24 hours since I kicked the stomach bug and the cleaning bug. Anytime I feel the urge to mop something, I fall back on the practice I got over the weekend.

That’s the secret to breaking a bad habit: fake it ‘til you make it, or hang out with whoever at work is coming down with the stomach flu.

Seven Days

Seven days ago I made a plea to the Goddess of Monday for a good week. So what’s happened since then? I learned that good and easy are not necessarily the same thing. It was not an easy week, but it was definitely a good week. Spring started, which seems so telling. Blooming is beautiful, but a lot of work.

7:44 AM

If I used the typepad wizard correctly, and you happen to be awake and online at 7:44 a.m., this blog should post at the same time the sun crosses the horizon and spring officially begins. Vernal equinox. The return of sunlight and balmy breezes, buds on the trees and bees in the flowers.

I'm beside myself.

Photo: Yay for Spring! via Istock

Attempting to Act My Age

Even though I don’t want to admit it, I turned 29 recently. I’ve officially left the MTV age demographic. Perhaps this is why, despite my recent infatuation with a tween vampire novel, I’ve been making an effort to act like a grown-up.

My plans started with saving for a new (read bigger) apartment and a real bed. (It’s probably time to get rid of the futon.) Then I decided I should buy matching cereal bowls instead of using leftover chinese take out containers. And wear high heels more often.

The high heels hurt my feet. The matching cereal bowls are chipped. And I had to use part of my savings to pay for the ER visit after I got hit by that errant driver last November. (Don’t worry, I haven’t figured out how yet, but he’s going to pay—financially--for it one way or another.)

But the good news is this: I figured out that maybe being an adult isn’t about how it should be, because life is rarely how it should be. It’s about enjoying, and accepting, what is.

Ride of Shame

I’ve missed some of the major cultural phenomena of my time. New Kids on the Block? Liked the music, never crushed on Joey, Jonathan, Danny, Donny, etc. 90210? Couldn’t tell Brenda from Kelly. Harry Potter? Haven’t opened any of the books or seen any of the movies.

So I was somewhat proud of myself yesterday when I accepted a co-worker’s challenge to start the Twilight series. I don’t get the feeding frenzy behind this teen/tween novel about vampires and werewolves, but since everyone else in the world is taking it as the gospel, I figured I could give it a shot.

And even though I don’t actually like the book all that much, I can’t seem to put it down. I mean, nothing is actually happening. Bella looks at Edward. Edward looks at Bella. There’s longing. That’s about it. Maybe that’s exactly why this book is my new crack—I’m waiting for something to actually occur.

Until then, I’m stuck being the 29-year-old woman on the el, trying to hide the cover so no one will see she’s reading a book meant for teenagers.