First Harvest

I've not tasted better tomotoes than these.

They're little but powerful, and right from my own balcony. Must be the sun and moonlight that shines on Madison Road that grew them so flavorful and sweet.

Broken Cell Phone Blues

My cell phone has been broken for several weeks, and by broken I mean it doesn't have the ability to ring or vibrate when I receive calls. Which pretty much defeats the purpose of a phone I think, unless you just want to dial out and see missed calls.

In addition, my phone book wasn't working so unless I knew your number by heart (which is unlikely since I know only about four numbers by heart), I couldn't call you.

On Saturday I dragged Jen with me to the T-Mobile store where I was informed that it appeared to be beyond repair and was 24 days past warranty.

Sweet.

I'd have to either sign a new two-year contract for a new one or buy a new phone out of pocket. So I came home and commenced to tossing it around and destroying it while I debated what to do. (See video.)

A few hours later I decided I had to have another phone - even though for weeks I didn't even notice it didn't ring - and went back to the store. Then I hated all of the new phones.

Defeated, I asked T-Mobile Mark if it could just be fixed. Ol' Mark half-heartedly gave my phone a look-see, pushed some buttons, changed some settings and tried calling it.

It rang.

"Holy crap, Mark! What'd you do?!" I exclaimed. "Why didn't you do that earlier!"

Mark wasn't sure what he did exactly but it had something to do with the blah-blah-blah card and the blah-blah-blah. We tried again. It didn't work.

Damn.

He flipped a few more things around and then performed a "master reset," which sounded scary and caused me to lose my email contacts and photos. We called the phone again. It rang! And my phone book started working again!

Excited but wanting outside confirmation, I had to call five different people before I found someone to call me back. Paul was in the mall and out of touch. Jen was walking around my neighborhood and didn't hear her phone ringing. Kari didn't answer her phone either.

When I called Ronson, I could hear him but he couldn't hear me.

"Hello? Hello? I can't hear you," he said. "Are you there? My phone is broken. I might not be able to talk to you. Are you there?"

Funny. We both have broken cell phones, I thought as I hung up.

Finally I got in touch with my mom, and my phone rang again. Victory! Though something told me Mark was less-than thrilled that his half-hearted attempt to fix it actually worked and he didn't get to sell me a new contract or phone.

So far so good, though I'm skeptical of how long this will last. But for now if you call me, I might actually answer since it rings again.

Of course now it's all beat up from throwing it around my house and accidentally dropping it onto the concrete four times at Maribelle's.

What's sad - and the point of this long winded tale - is that in the "master reset" I lost my home-made Sister Christian ringtone, which I spent two hours (more like four) making one afternoon last winter.

R.I.P. Sister Christian ringtone.

The Cat Wrangler...

And her sidekick.

Lookin' So Crazy

This video of Beyonce biting it was me yesterday, only without the hair flipping and fancy dress.

Though watching her fall down is way more hilarious. I love how she slides down on her butt, hits face first and then pops back up and starts flinging her hair around again.

Yesterday I was wearing my subterranean flats for the Summer Shoe Challenge, and while adorable, they're crazy slick, like they have baby powder on the bottoms, and I fell down some stairs after shooting a video. Yeeouch! But I bet it didn't hurt as much as Beyonce's fall did.

Happy Birthday Susie Daugherty

My mom turns 65 on Friday and she and my dad stopped by Wednesday night while on their way to Kentucky for her birthday.

My dad surprised her with a trip to Natural Bridge, which she loves because walking his her thing, particularly walking around wooded areas where after she's done she can eat at the park's pricey buffet. Except Wednesday morning she found out she has three broken toes. (Apparently all her walking and activities caused stress fractures, which led to broken toes. She's been hobbling around for two weeks.)

Anyway, she brought with her a rock garden that she got for $2 at a garage sale. But the little water pump wasn't working, so my dad spent most of the night taking it apart and trying to get it to work.

As we were all sitting around watching The Wonder Years, my dad would periodically look over at me and say, "Aren't you supposed to be studying? Where is your book? I don't want to have to tell people you flunked out."

I thought this was hilarious. And adorable.

I told my parents two weeks ago I was studying for the LSAT, which is partially true, in as much as "studying" consists of having the Kaplan study book from the library. But in my dad's mind, I've already taken the entrace exam, been accepted to law school and am in the midst of my second year.

After The Wonder Years he volunteered to put down the water pump propeller and do the dishes for me.

"You should be studying," he said. "Did you study today?"

I didn't study any, but I am now the proud of owner of a flowing rock garden from a garage sale.

Goooood Morning Hyde Park!

If you're an ambulance chasing lawyer, then my street is where you need to be. No fewer than a half dozen ambulances and fire trucks speed past our apartment, sirens blaring, every day. Many of these speed past in the middle of the night.

Last night we were awakened at 2 a.m. by this scene: Four cop cars and about six fire trucks, right outside our apartment.

I jumped to the window expecting to see flames lighting up the sky. Instead, a whole bunch of fire firefighters just seemed to be poking around in a manhole and carrying a giant hose around. (It sounds way more titilating than it was.)

I've started grabbing my video camera when this happens so I can edit together a bunch of clips of fire trucks and ambulances barreling down Madison Road. Should be fun!

Fiesta!

One my favorite Mexican restaurants (I have three) celebrated the Grand Opening of its new location in Montgomery tonight, and I went to make sure the salsa river was flowing and the margaritas were strong.

¡Sí y Sí!

The Mariachi band was finishing up when I arrived, but when Salsa Caliente took to the bar stage at 9, suddenly it was a salsa dance off!

¡Olé!

Dangerous Levels

Cassady has twice fallen from balconies. I shouldn't trust him anymore, but he seems to really be enjoying the scenery. I hate to cut him off.



Then again, if he lands in the bush two stories down, it'll cost me a fortune at the vet getting the stick removed from his rib cage.



Awww. I'll just leave him. Maybe he's older and wiser now.

Wedge Off

That's me on the right, in the fabulous brown wedges.

It wasn't planned, but Julie and Kari and I all ended up wearing wedges for the first day of the Summer Shoe Challenge. (It's funny how I keep capitalizing that, as if it's a real title or something.)

Though my intention was just to mix in the terrific shoes I never wear with the terrific shoes I do always wear, Kari has thrown down the gauntlet. Tomorrow I bring the pain. (Probably in the form of a high-heel that causes actual pain.)

What will it be... Hmm. I don't actually know yet. But you can check Julie's Style Blog tomorrow to find out.

15 Days of Fabulous Shoes

These little black beauties have inspired the Summer Shoe Challenge.

After spending months, years even, crying neglected in the back of my closet, I wore them to work last week and decided that all my abandoned shoes deserve to be shown off.

So for the next 15 days, Julie and Kari and I are going to wear a different pair of shoes. The rule is that you can wear any pair of shoes you want, but you can wear them only once during the 15 days. (Except for weekends, then it's every shoe for itself.)

The same two or three pairs of shoes I always wear are going to get a bit of a rest, while the rest of my footwear will finally get the red carpet (er, sidewalk) treatment. And this will help me decide what shoes should ultimately be given to Goodwill.

We're going to take photos each day and write a little post about how each pair came to land in our closet, if we wear them or why we don't and post it on Julie's Stylista Blog.

You should definitely check it out. There's going to be some fabulous shoes!

Ooh! And if you have a fantastic pair of shoes you want to dig out and show off, email a photo of them to me and we'll post it in our special Fabulous Shoe Guest Spot. (It's very official because it's in caps.)

Foiled Again

This morning I woke up and decided to go to law school.

Never mind that I don't have 40 grand, I test poorly and going back to school would be an utter nightmare. But after seeing Sicko last night, I decided if I had a law degree I could sue the beejesus out of evil insurance companies on behalf of people who get their health insurance dropped and claims denied for stupid reasons. (Like they breath too loud.)

So this morning I researched nearby law schools and the application process, cost and curriculum. I announced to the Tall Drink of Water that we'll be even more poor for three or four years, but that eventually I'll get to stick it to loathesome companies. (And perhaps I'll wear a cape while doing this.) He seemed less than thrilled but feigned support.

Gung-go, I went to the Cincinnati Public Library's Web site (which is fantastic) to reserve some LSAT preparation books, and even though I have my library card number, I can't remember my PIN. And the library is closed on Sundays. Damn.

Looks like I won't be going to law school and stickin' it to the man.

TDW said I could just call tomorrow, but I know I won't. Tomorrow I'll be back in work mode and won't have time to think about stickin' it to the man because I'll be too busy working for the man.

"Nah," he said. "You won't give up until you get the books. This'll last until the end of the week, when you see the test questions."

KHHHHH! (That's me hissing.)

Balcony Garden Center

I searched everywhere looking for another Wave Petunia basket to my liking, like this one. My mom and dad brought this one down as a housewarming gift a few weeks ago, and since there are two more hooks, I felt I should have two more hanging Wave Petunias.

Lowe's, Home Depot, Kroger, Meijer, Bigg's and the Hyde Park Garden Center felt otherwise. Everyone is sold out except for ugly red, whte and purples ones, and they'd look too severe next to my pink petunias, I think, so they're out.

So I put Susie Daugherty on the case knowing that if there is a Wave Petunia basket to be had in the cities of Marion, Gas City, Kokomo and perhaps even Muncie, it will be mine. Within hours of making the Petunia call to her, she called me back, Wave Petunias in hand. I'll be getting that basket when she and my dad come visit in a few weeks on their way to KY. (I think she only got one basket, though, but that's OK. I didn't specify a number.)

She also picked up some plastic cups and plates for me, apparently decorated with some neon and stripes, which should be fun. "For the balcony when you're friends come over," she said.



I may not have found any Petunias on my garden center trip but I did find this adorable tomato plant. It already has 16 little tomatoes growing on it, so my plan is to just sit back and reap the benefits of someone else's labor. Though right now finding a spot for it in the sun but where it's not too sunny on the balcony has been a challenge. I will fully monitor the sun's progression across the balcony this weekend for optimal placement.

I agonized over whether or not to buy MIracle Gro tomato food for it. But the box said "for quick, beautiful tomatoes" and that's what I'm all about, so I bought it. God knows what Home Depot put in the soil before I got it anyway.

I'm pretty excited. Fresh tomatoes. If anyone has any great recipes calling for fresh tomatoes, please send 'em my way.

What's For Dinner?

I've been staying up late watching Man Vs. Wild, with Bear Grylls, on the Discovery Channel.

If you haven't yet seen this show, set your DVR immediately. Bear served in the British Special Forces and is the youngest Briton to climb Everest. He's also the new love of my life. I bet he drives a truck.

Basically, the Discovery Channel dumps ol' Bear off in some uninhabitable land (usually by parachute) to die. Instead, he demonstrates unbelievable survival skills and pops out - insert remote location here: Everglades, jungle, the outback, frozen tundra, etc. - alive, spirited and hilariously understated.

Oh, and on the way he eats snakes, raw fish, frogs, insects and animals. He once skinned a deer for shelter. I watched him drink his own urine in the outback and I still want to make out with him. The guy is a freakin' badass.

I've thought about our life together. He'll want to go be "adventurous" and I'll just want to sit on the balcony and watch traffic go by. He works out six days a week and will want me to join him, and I'll pass out at the gym from low blood sugar. Obviously it won't last long, but ooh-wee!

I would feel bad about having these romantic thoughts about Bear, except that the Tall Drink of Water wants to be Bear, so it kinda evens out.

Here's a highlights reel, but sadly, minus Bear's lovely accent.

All Grownsed Up Now

I just cracked over 20,000 page views on this little blog of mine. (It's taken a year and eight months.)

Google is probably gonna wanna buy it soon.

To celebrate I've added a few people to my blog roll: The irrepressible Rob and my old friend Yvette, who writes such sweet posts about her kids I think she missed her calling as a writer. This one is my favorite, for making me a witness to their innocence and escapades.

Speaking of celebrating, Gina's Blog would like to nominate a reader of this blog to host a Blogger Party. Like, everyone who reads this blog or has a blog that's read by anybody (in the world) should throw a party so we can all talk nerd-talk about blogs and what-have-you. Mostly what-have-you, but the blogs would be an excuse to get together.

It could be a costume party. Everyone could dress up like their blog. The Tall Drink of Water could dress up in Reds stuff since he blogs about the Reds a lot. Or he could dress up like a clergyman and everyone would have to yell Paullelujah! whenever he came into a room.

Jen would come as Diana Ross (or another Motown soulstress) since she writes about Detriot. And I could come as a newspaper, all black and inky. (But no one under 35 would want to hang out/read me - 'cause they'd be reading me online for free.)

Or we could not dress up at all. But that'd be less fun.

Anyway, I'm off to Red River Gorge for an upcoming cover story. In the meantime, I've been busy on my Flickr page if you're up for clicking through some July 4, wedding and reunion photos.

Yeah, Come On! Come Get Some!

The evening after the Tall Drink of Water ran the Flying Pig Marathon I videotaped him hobbling around. Here is the video of that hobbling around, along with a post-race interview.

(Editor's Note: This footage was just an excuse for me to make a soundtrack of awesomely funny '80s music.)

Bombs Away!

One.


Two.


Three!


Since I was throwing my old couch away anyway, I told the movers they should just shove it from my fourth floor balcony rather than carry it down the stairs. It actually took some convincing - they were worried about hitting someone or tearing something up - but in the end, over it went. And it was fantastic.

Reinforcements

I was joking when I told my dad last week he should get his tools and come to Cincinnati to help me unpack and drill holes in the walls. But three hours later, he and my mom were here.

First item of business: The record player, so we could crank Johnny Cash. It's in the corner on the right, with lampshades on it.