Conspiracy Theorizing

One of the best things about having a house to myself is that I can sing as loudly as I want, at any time of day, to absolutely any song I choose. There was a bit of a ramp up period, but already I'm at the stage where the singing isn't enough; I've engaged the Mariah hand and its companions. I might have to record some of these impromptu performances. BFF Katie might really enjoy that in between "catching babies".

I'm expecting to be swept up into another campaign in fairly short order, so I'm embracing this interim time, and it's been pretty sweet so far. I have started working on 2 new fiction writing projects, and I've used a new approach to both. My best writing-- the stuff that means the most to me, the stuff that I feel really exhibits what I can do-- comes from spontaneous moments when something is really bubbling beneath the surface and I write to exorcise the demon. Someone once told me that you're an artist when you can't not create your art, be it painting, sculpting, writing, acting, whatever. I feel very lucky that I have firsthand knowledge of that feeling. I've had nights when I can't sleep until I get something down on paper.

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Sidebar: Sister Jennie refers to the band Florence + the Machine as "Delores and the Synthesizer". It is fucking hilarious, and my current playlist on [a certain online music service that I will NOT mention on this blog] just played a song from that band. Sister Jennie is unlike any other.

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Othersidebar: The holidays at Casa Mofo left me with a very full refrigerator and, sadly, only one stomach into which the leftovers can be deposited. So, I've been cooking quite a bit, and currently, the house smells like slow-cooker jerk chicken and apple-blueberry crisp. Regarding the chicken, there is something singularly satisfying about eating food with flavors that were developed and mastered in parts of the world that will never know terms like "wintry mix". Also, I'm embracing the opportunity to fill the house with smells that the 'rents don't enjoy. Roasted cruciferous vegetables, curry, onions, garlic, etc-- I'm going to get this joint jumping. For what it's worth, I just took a few bites of the apple-blueberry crisp and SWEET CHRIST ALMIGHTY. I'm getting the vapors. I put a little extra lemon zest in the filling and used 5 different variety of apples and added coarse sea salt to the topping...I might need a cigarette after this.

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I get an idea and then I start writing the basis for the idea. It's like I see the picture, but when I begin, I first write the "frame" so that I can nail it down before I get to the picture. The logic behind this is that writing the picture will be easy because it's already so vivid and developed. Right now, I'm working on the pictures first. I could hear the dialogue, I could see the character's faces, and I wanted to--

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Back to the othersidebar: I'm sorry, but holy shit, this crisp is delicious. And by the way, by adding blueberries to the recipe, some of the apple slices have been tinted this beautiful shade of magenta and some of them have a gradient effect. It is borderline obscene. Man, am I grateful for my hedonist side!

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--secure those pieces before they lost anything. I haven't been hit like this in a while, and I have no idea how long it'll last. I feel a bit like a pitcher in the 5th or 6th inning of a no-hitter. (Because I SO know how that feels...) I'm trying to keep all conditions stable, not change any habits, and maybe I can draw this out long enough to nail down the full skeleton of each story.

I won't get into the details of either piece, but I will say that one of them was partially inspired by a conversation I had with my aunt Mary-Ann over Thanksgiving. I don't know if she knew how beautifully or pithily she had articulated this one particular idea but holy shit. The other one was handed to me by BFF Molly. Literally. It was wrapped up with a bow. I cannot fuck that one up because the 'making of' story would be just too good to miss.

So, what else. The holidays in DKMland were rife with mirth. Rife, I tell you. All of my siblings and their respective spouses were under one roof and it was fantastic. The word "fortifying" seems appropriate. So, Sister Jennie got married in November, and there was this moment in the proceedings that I will never forget. (Bear with me; this whole thing will tie up quite nicely.) I'm standing up as a bridesmaid, Sister Carrie was a few spaces up from me, and then Jen and Brother Chris were at center ice. Immediately to my right was Brother Dave, holding the Gretabunny [whose dress was on backwards], then the Corcfortons, and my parents, BFF Katie and Dr. Kevin right behind them. There was this very tight concentration of very important people, and there's magic in that. In anticipation of our annual Christmas Eve shitshow, there was this consensus among my siblings that we wanted to keep things a little more mellow this year. Now, I LOVE my extended family; I am fully aware of how lucky I am. But, every Christmas Eve, there's just all of this rigmarole that accompanies our annual party, and it gets easier and easier to miss the opportunities for that magic ohana feeling we had going during Sister Jennie's wedding. So, this year it was just my immediate family-- there are 10 of us now-- plus Sister Kelly's family, our beloved family friend Gige and her son Rob, and the participants of our sibling hoodie exchange. We were all able to sit at one table [well, it was several tables that we sort of shoved together], no one was climbing over anyone else, there were no voices fighting for top volume, and it. was. fucking. awesome. It made me fall in love with my family all over again.

Alright, generally, I wouldn't do this, but I'm going to unpack that last sentiment. Here's why I love my family all over again, and I'll do this in age order.

• Il padre-- Watching my dad relate to BFFs Katie and Molly is a damn gift. Our family has always operated with a gentle open-door policy, and my dad set the tone for that, whether he meant to or not. He has this inherent understanding of the idea that your family can definitely include the people you find, not just the people who've dipped in the same gene pool, and it's one of my favorite things about him. I love that his was one of the loudest voices in the audience at BFF Katie's med school graduation when her name was announced.
• Mama Jan-- We were doing some last-minute shopping for Bro-Joe, and I spotted this framed photo by a Detroit-based photographer, Michael Heughens, that I knew he'd love. Jancakes was a little on-the-fence about it, and after some pleading, she goes, "You know what? I'll return that remote-controlled helicopter I got him and get him this instead." I genuinely love that my mom bought a legit TOY for her baby boy of 34 years. [BTW, check out Heughens' work. There are some great shots.]
• Bro-Joe-- I love how he comports himself around his wife. He's not annoying about it, it's not like gushy bullshit, but he does these little things that all add up to him taking his role as Kelly's husband really seriously. And I also love that his marriage has introduced 4 great new people to our family.
• Brother Chris-- the newest member of my ohana! Alright, so a very basic element to the DKM psychosis is awkwardness, right? A major, major factor in whether or not I can genuinely like someone is whether or not I feel awkward in his or her presence. Not only do I feel zero awkwardness when Chris is around, but I think he actually makes me more comfortable. Forrealsies. This is no easy feat. (If I made a fabric chain with all of the shirts that I have ruined with nervous sweating, it would span the fucking globe.)
• Sister Carrie-- on Christmas Eve, Dr. Kevin was given some fancy new undersquares as a white elephant gift. Even though Carrie has her Master's degree, even though she is somebody's mother and somebody's wife, without a moment's hesitation she grabbed one of the pairs and - poof! - new millinery accessory. Like the seltzer bottle or a pie in the face, undersquares on the head is a major icon in the commedia delle Monforton and I will never not love that about Carrie.
• Sister Jennie-- You know how I hate cleaning my room, in a way that has several levels to it? In anticipation of Carrie/Dave/Greta's arrival, I had to tighten up my cleaning game, and Jennie was all over it. Even though she doesn't empathize at all, she understands that I ascribe meaning and gravity to pretty much everything, often to my own detriment. She gets that throwing something out is tricky for me and she doesn't make me feel like total nutbar Aunt Gladdy character for it. She spent hours in my room with me, gently kicking my ass and keeping things moving, and even vacuumed the corners of the ceilings for me. And this was all done despite her feeling like shit for her entire visit home.
• Brother Dave-- I'm pretty sure that Dave's entire raison d'etre is being a dad. He's remarkable. He doesn't get rattled, he doesn't flinch, he just executes. Right after Thanksgiving, the Gretabunny was having some tummy trouble and it was causing her to break her pattern of being the most mellow baby of all time. So, in one particularly unpleasant episode, Greta just LOST it-- screaming, face flushed like a little strawberry, in very obvious pain, the whole thing. Carrie, the concerned mommy, was understandably distraught to see Greta like that; Dave handled the very unpleasant task at hand [specifics are entirely unnecessary here], picked up the baby, and went out onto the front porch with her to literally and figuratively cool her down. It was amazing.
• Sister Kelly-- Kel and Bro-Joe stayed at Casa Mofo together the night before they went back to SanFran. I was hanging out with BFF Katie earlier in the evening. I come home, see Bro-Joe and my dad in the TV room, probably watching the 2nd episode of 24/7: Road to the Winter Classic [which I cannot recommend highly enough], and I hear Jan and Kel in the dining room. I walk in to find my brilliant and lovely sister-in-law on her hands and knees scrubbing the carpet; one of the four-legged nieces had left a Christmas gift under the dining room table and Kel was cleaning up said gift. Seriously, WTF.

Anyway. I had a wonderful holiday. It wasn't as populous as it usually is-- ACG and Wifey Laura were busy moving into their new Minneapolis digs, there were no random IA reunions-- but the time I spent with my loved ones was sweet. One of my favorite holiday quotes is: "Blessed is the season which engages the whole world in a conspiracy of love." I have some bad-ass co-conspirators.

"That's the ABC's of me, baby!"

The quote in the title of this entry is from Jerry Maguire, spoken by the character Rod Tidwell as played by Cuba Gooding, Jr. I'm generally a fan of Cameron Crowe's work, and then I read that he'd told Janeane Garafalo that she'd secured the role of Dorothy Boyd in Jerry Maguire, suggested she lose some weight for the role, and then gave it to Renee Zellweger. I'll never be able to fully express how upset that makes me.

Anyway, Sister Carrie posted this little personality expose thing on her blog, and I thought I'd play along.

A. Age – 29. No one ever guesses my age correctly. An asshole at a college bar referred to me as "some bitchy 35-year-old", when I was in fact a bitchy 25-year-old; but usually people guess that I'm 5 or 6 years younger than I am. This is good because I'm a late bloomer and always have been. I might be 29, but I'm hitting 24/25-year-old benchmarks right now. (Mind your own business about that.)

B. Bed size – Twin. I sleep in the same bed that BFFs Katie, Molly, and Thea would sleep on when they stayed over at Chez Mofo during high school and breaks from college. I'm telling you: late bloomer.

C. Chore that you hate – Cleaning my bedroom. The majority of the childhood memories of my father are of him yelling at me about my messy room, and for those that know my dad, it should be clear that having him raise his voice to you is pretty much the least fun thing ever. It's pants-shittingly unfun. Also, I don't like having people in my room, so cleaning it seems like a waste of time because I don't really give a fuck if it's messy. My mentality, much to the chagrin of pretty much everyone that has ever lived with me, is that if you have an issue with my room being messy, then you are even further discouraged to come into my room. For real. Stay out. Does this indicate some sort of psychosis? Eh, probably. Add one more to the list, and once again, stay out of my room.

D. Dogs – I love all of them. I've been bitten by a dog and I still love them. We just get along well. Aside from the basic things that one can love about the species-- soft ears, warm bellies, unbelievably cute babies-- I like how dogs have a really developed social structure, and I like that so many breeds of dogs have a wonderful, storied heritage. Also, dogs exhibit the best human traits: loyalty, cooperation, persistence, intelligence, sensitivity, kindness, etc. And this.

E. Essential start to your day – If I'm working, coffee with soy milk. If I'm idling, it's reading or doing the NYT crossword in the can.

F. Favorite color – It changes frequently, but dark, rich navy blue is a perennial fave.

G. Gold or silver – There's a time for both.

H. Height – 5'6.5". I love my height.

I. Instruments you play – I used to play piano and flute, and I used to sing in a handful of choirs. I still love to sing and I'd jump at the chance to learn any instrument. I would love to be able to compose and make my own arrangements of my favorite songs. I have this long-held ambition to write an early Jewel version of Poison's "Talk Dirty to Me". I already accomplished one of my random "by the time I'm 40" goals, so that one has moved up the queue.

J. Job title – Seasonal sales associate, freelance writer/editor. I'm hoping that it's only a matter of weeks before I get to reclaim a former title: political operative.

K. Kids – Oh, Christ, no. I love the niece, and I will love whatever other offspring that my siblings and close friends produce; I'd gladly sublet my uterus or donate my probably-very-agreeable follicles, but it would be for someone else's benefit.

L. Live – Detroit 'burbs. I love my hometown, but I'd rather be pretty much anywhere than here, except maybe anywhere along the rural portions of the Trans-Siberian Railroad or in any politically unstable country.

M. Mother’s name – Jan. Jancita.

N. Nicknames – Dee, Dana Mofo, DKMofo, D-Skrab [this is an abbreviation of my hypothetical DJ name, DJ Skrabble], Danifer, Wifey.

O. Overnight hospital stays – [see entries from February of 2009]

P. Pet peeves – religious fundamentalism, conspicuous consumption by the misinformed and Conservative new money enclaves outside of major cities, bigotry of any kind, reality television [with a few select exceptions], media illiteracy, mealy peaches, bullies, bad drivers, being told to watch my mouth, being dismissed, bad customer service, mixed metaphors and misuse of expressions and idioms, Citizens United, the objectification and subjugation of women worldwide PARTICULARLY when it's done under the guise of female empowerment or by the hand of women who are spoon-fed an easy alternative, how hard it is to make a living in anything creative, apathy, complacence, being told to calm down, and I really don't like when people put their hands on my bare skin without clear consent from me. (I have this gnawing memory from Election Night after this past fall's municipal primary; I was wearing a one-shoulder cocktail dress, and this dude was congratulating me and he kept palming the bare side of my back. It makes me skin crawl every time I think about it even if it was a basically innocuous maneuver. A lot of people crave physical contact and they're OK with fulfilling that craving with strangers; I am not. Keep your fucking hands off of my skin and keep your face away from my face.)

Q. Quote from a movie – I could write volumes from this prompt. From High Fidelity: "Well, I've been listening to my gut since I was 14 years old, and frankly speaking, I've come to the conclusion that my guts have shit for brains." I like pretty much every line that Carey Mulligan says in An Education. I love the last line of The Apartment. And I could watch the dialogue between Frances McDormand and Billy Crudup from Almost Famous-- watch from 3:05 to 4:50 -- about a billion times and never get sick of it. There's this tiny little nugget from The Muppets Take Manhattan when the whole gang is talking over one another, someone quiets them down, and Janice (the blonde from Electric Mayhem) goes, "I'm not taking my clothes off for anybody, even if it is artistic." I like most all of Olympia Dukakis' lines from Steel Magnolias. "There's no crying in baseball!", from A League of Their Own. For real, I could go on and on. Even if a quote doesn't have that same "I coulda been a contender!" punch that we crave, there are moments of magic when an actor's delivery of a line elevates the material beyond what is deserved by the shitty writing. (Kristen Stewart, I'm looking at you.) Rene Russo's line in The Thomas Crown Affair, referring to her character's lack of a genuine romantic history: "Well, men make women...messy." Joan Cusack in Working Girl: "Sometimes I sing and dance around the house in my underwear. Doesn't make me Madonna. Never will." Rosie O'Donnell's monologue from Beautiful Girls. Yeah, I have to stop now.

R. Right- or left-handed – Right

S. Siblings – 3 biological, 3 by marriage.

T. Time it takes you to get ready – That depends. Ok, from drenched in sweat to bridesmaid-appropriate, I'm 60 minutes with no distractions. From pajamas to work-appropriate, if I've showered the night before, 7 minutes.

U. Underwear – I'm a fan. I think thongs are ridiculous and I take issue with anyone who tries to convince me that they are comfortable. No, they aren't. And avoiding VPL is a waste of time-- yes, I'm wearing underwear! Stop the presses!

V. Vegetable you hate – I can make it work with any of them. I don't really like okra unless it's fried, and I don't like vegetables that have been pickled. Otherwise, I'm agreeable.

W. What makes you run late – Everything. I'm constantly running late. I recognize that it drives my friends and family crazy and it's a never-ending struggle.

X. X-rays you’ve had – Spinal column, teeth, jaw.

Y. Yummy food you make – I make really good risotto.

Z. Zoo animal – I really like big cats, particularly the massive matriarchs.

Wedding vows to the future Mr. DKM

Since Jennie got married last weekend, and we're less than a year away from BFF Katie's wedding (for which I will be acting as minister), and I've been sucked into the whole Twilight mindfuck and therefore cannot help but look at the photos of the wedding scene in The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn, Part 1: Citizens on Patrol, it only seems appropriate that I write this stuff down now.

Here's what I'd like to say to my future husband, should the universe conspire to find the substrate to my enzyme:

I promise that, if we should ever share an Academy Award win, I will allow you some time at the podium, too; and if I win one on my own, I will make sure that I will more emphatic about thanking you than about thanking my agent or collaborators. This extends to Tonys, Grammys, and Emmys as well.

If I ever make something awesome to eat, like risotto, I will always make enough for you to have seconds; I will put the leftovers in glass dishes for you to enjoy the next day because I would never expose you to avoidable carcinogens.

If you're ever thirsty, I will always get you a glass of ice water, because I know that it always tastes better if someone else gets it.

I'll never bother you when you're in the bathroom unless you explicitly ask for more toilet paper or reading material.

I'll never buy soap or personal care products with Triclosan, parabens, or sulphates because I'd rather your skin and hair be healthy than synthetically scented or softened.

I will do whatever it takes to make our home a place where your friends and family will always feel welcomed and at ease.

I will always be concerned about whether or not you're getting enough fiber and protein in your diet, and I will always be a total pain in the ass if I see you drinking Red Bull.

I'll pay attention.

If you ever ask me to dance with you, I'll always say yes.

If we're at a social function, casual or otherwise, and you want to leave, you can use me as an excuse.

I'll fight fair.

I'll never bully you and I'll never let you bully me.

If there's ever a movie or play you want to see, a book you want to read, a band you want to check out, or a new restaurant you want to try, I'll always encourage you to do so; I want you to have as many chances as possible to be moved by something beautiful or special.

If you need me to be your arm candy for a few hours, I won't ask questions until after the fact.

If you want to take a spontaneous trip someplace, I'll only need 1 hour's notice.

I'll never dismiss you.

I'll always care about your grammar and punctuation, but I won't be an asshole about it.

I'll always wear my seatbelt and I'll never text while driving.



That's all I have so far.

Team Buzz

I've been waiting for a really good reason to get the blog back in action-- and I finally found one. It turns out that the Team Dana infrastructure is still quite useful. BFF Katie's stepdad, the Buzz Man, is going through his own medical tomfoolery. Team Buzz is just getting started, and it's going to be EPIC.

I don't take my friends and family for granted; I am actively grateful to have them. But, it's so nice to see how people just come out of the woodwork to help out. It never stops being amazing how your friends and family can surprise you with their warmth, kindness, generosity, and humor.

Oh, and did I mention that I have a niece now!? http://gretasasparklyunicorn.blogspot.com/

Rebecca Howe to Sexy Muppet: The Journey of Kirstie Alley

I'm not entirely psyched that I'm about to comment on Dancing With The Stars, but it is positively mandatory.

To begin, one thing needs to be established. On the Cheers spectrum, I am a staunch Diane-ist. If it were to be a campaign, I'd want to run it, and the slogan would be "Shelley Long Can Do No Wrong". That said, Kirstie Alley's portrayal of Rebecca Howe was fabulous. Girlfriend has legitimate chops.

Cut to her current position in pop culture. She's a punchline, a ready-made fat joke, a caricature. Instead of presenting herself as a comedienne, she's a clown. And instead of a wicked hot woman, she's Miss Piggy in spandex and suntan tights. Why!?

In other news, 1) BFF Katie has handed me a true breakthrough in my quest to not be a hoarder. There are 7 paper grocery bags full of notes, cards, and sundry pieces of mail-- and I'm not even done yet. I'm not stopping until I rid my bedroom and personal effects of any vestige of bullshit. It helps that I can get rid of anything from my ten-plus years of undergradness! One thing that I've been keeping in mind is that I don't need pieces and pieces of memorabilia; some events have their own souvenirs built in. For example, I don't need all of my friends' wedding invitations; the best souvenirs from these weddings are the actually marriages themselves. I don't need every piece of mail that BFF Molly sent me during our college days; the best souvenir is our friendship lasting and growing despite trials and traumas. As I told ATL Laura, my ridiculous Rain Man-esque memory is its own sort of scrapbook. 2) BFF Katie is done with medical school-- she just needs to gradumacate, and she'll have her varsity letter in doctoring. 3) My ongoing job-searching is indicating that I need to learn some techie stuff-- lots of acronyms and clicks and secret codes. ATL Andy and Bro-Joe are probably going to get a lot of phone calls from me.

My current plan for watching the royal wedding involves curry, shandies, and a fascinator. Who's in?

How to remain safely upon the wagon...

I'm coming up on two weeks of aspartame-freedom. It is not quite awesome, but definitely getting there. So, a few things that sort of helped me get to this point:

1. Don't try to give up caffeine entirely, or at least don't do it cold turkey. (Especially those of you with demanding lives-- ahem, Erin.) Trying to limit this over time is a good idea, though. I'm not a medical expert nor do I have extensive experience in medical research, but I do know what it's like to get headaches, and I'm certain that caffeine plays a role.

2. Find some tasty alternatives. I really like pop/soda, and the unique mouth-feel of carbonation is probably part of what drew me in to the DC beast in the first place. I like those Izze drinks-- they have a lot of juice in them, no high-fructose corn syrup, and only one ingredient that gave me any pause. (It says "natural flavor", so who the F knows that that actually is.) I found a great microbrew root beer called Virgil's. It's DELICIOUS, and the ingredient list is agreeable. Of course, it has sugar in it, but it's actual sugar, not some frankensugar. [By the way, I need to get a pet and name it "Frankensugar". Good note to self.] The flavor profile is pretty complex, too, so it's more satisfying, enjoyable, whatever. You won't want to drink bottles and bottles of it, like you could/would with Diet Coke. Some other things I like: unsweetened iced tea, maybe with a little juice added in, iced coffee with some vanilla soy milk, or really good ice-cold beer (my two current favorites are Atwater's D-Light, a kolsch-style beer-- whatever that means-- and Warsteiner Dunkel).

The articles that urge replacing DC with water are bogus-- water doesn't get the job done, or at least it doesn't for me quite yet. But when you're detoxing from anything, I've read that it's a good idea to drink plenty of it. I follow that advice, but water isn't a replacement per se.

3. Have some ibuprofen on hand. I had insane headaches BUT when I first began the detox, I was also abstaining from caffeine. (BFF Katie nixed this idea in favor of a slow step-down. I think her words were "You don't need to suffer". God bless BFF Katie.) There was one point where I took one extra-strength acetaminophen in addition to two ibuprofen tablets, and that seemed to work. This seems extreme and sort of an unnecessary, but BFF Katie insists that the two can be used together.

I hope these tips help. It got significantly easier after day 4, and then again after maybe a week. It's just the initial few days that suck. Not impossible, not torture, just some regular-grade suckage. And if you get tripped up or tempted or whatever, just keep in mind how awful DC really is for you. There are a ton of websites that attest to it, some of which actually rely on hard science.

Best wishes!