I’m a little addicted. First, there’s ….
Hot Pepper Jelly from Stonewall Kitchen
THEN, there’s ….
Tabasco Green Sauce
YUMMMMA DUMM DUMMMMMM!!!!
Okay. That’s really all I wanted to say. Confession being good for the soul and all.
But if y’all got addicted, too, I’d feel evah so much bettah.
At my church, the college students are revered for their venerable wisdom and vast life experience. This is only natural, of course. As with most sages, people seem to hang on their every word. So today, you could hear a pin drop when one of these august creatures introduced a worship song with this priceless pearl:
“God wants to give us a spirit of freaking out for Jesus rather than a spirit of despair. So just let yourself freak out for Jesus with this song.”
Man, you know what? Wise people totally kill me.
Being older and less wise myself, I can only speculate that she may have been trying to paraphrase Isaiah 61 and his description of year of the Lord’s favor, where it says the Lord will:
bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness
instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
instead of a spirit of despair.
So we sang the song and I liked the song, but, in a blatant display of my clearly subpar Christianity, I did not FREAK OUT. And if, in this new lexicon of the postmodern Christian, I must choose between “a spirit of freaking out for Jesus” and a spirit of despair, frankly, I’ll take the despair, thanks. At least I’ll feel a little less like an ass.
Because the Lord ALSO says in Isaiah:
I will give you the treasures of darkness, riches stored in secret places, so that you may know that I am the LORD, the God of Israel, who summons you by name.
And again, this is all just conjecture and I could be wrong, but I imagine I’ve learned more from those treasures of darkness than I ever could from a few moments freaking out for Jesus.
Oh, I have so many of these to show you!!
(All right, calm down, Tracey; you can’t show them all at once. Little bits, little bits. Okay, breathe ….. now here’s some more pretty):
Hmm … this card reminds me of someone …. familiar somehow:
After posting these, I’ve just realized I’ve got a kind of lavender bluey theme going on here. I guess lavender is the theme this week.
A great new feature over at Chai-rista’s blog, Truly Bad Films.
I couldn’t agree more with what she says; so often it’s the players in those pivotal smaller roles who imprint on our hearts and memories, win our cinematic devotion, even. So I say YES, hooray, let’s celebrate the character actors!!
And she’s got a good’un up for March. Check it out!
Ah! The ongoing saga of my not-quite-life at The Beanhouse.
A couple weeks ago, I had this exchange with a customer we’ll call Scary Buzz-Cut Girl — a person I know is gainfully employed at the store across the street:
Scary Buzz-Cut Girl: I want a small, soy, sugar-free vanilla latte.
Me: Okay. (ringing it up) That’s 2.60.
SB-CG: Oh. (searching her pockets, handing me 2 dollars) That’s all I have.
Me: Hmm. Well, it’s 2.60.
A couple of people had lined up behind her.
SB-CG: Well, I don’t have 2.60. (eyeing a jar on the counter) Can’t you just take the rest from your tips?
Me: I could, but I won’t. I’d be taking tips from my coworkers.
Yeah, yeah. Such a small amount, you might say, what’s the big deal? But, silly me, I actually think it’s the principle of the thing. How can you even ask that, Scary Buzz-Cut Girl? She never once said Okay, just forget it or I’ll go across the street and get more money while you help these other people who also exist on the planet or anything remotely like that. No. If memory serves, her response was:
SB-CG: 
I admit it; I was getting flustered — and the line was growing behind Scary Buzz-Cut Girl. She just stood there …. you know:
Me: Okay. Here’s what I’ll do. (digging in my pocket) I’ll put in 60 cents myself.
SB-CG: Oh.
I dropped her money AND mine into the cash drawer while she walked away to retrieve her prissy drink …. without another word, without even a backward glance. Nuttin’.
If memory serves, my response was:
Me:
So fast-forward with me, dear reader, to just the other day, when Scary Buzz-Cut Girl came into The Beanhouse again. She strolled up to me, nonchalant, la-di-da.
Me (effusive with fake emotion): Oh, HI, Scary Buzz-Cut Girl!! Hey, you kNo-o-Ow …. don’t you owe me 60 cents?
SB-CG: What?! What for??
Me: Oh, you know …. when you came in here about two weeks ago and didn’t have enough money for your latte?
SB-CG: Oh …. yeah. Well, whatever. Here. I’ll just put it in the tip thing. (plopping money into the “tip thing”)
Me (despicably fake): Okay! Great!!
As she walked away, I took my money out of the tip jar.
And you know what? I never would have even asked — if only she’d said
Thank you.
I only have a few things to say about American Idol last night, because I only saw bits and pieces. They sang Stevie Wonder songs — freakin’ Stevie Wonder!!
1) Li’l Woody Allen sang “Part-Time Lover.” Now that’s just icky, icky, ICKY! HE IS 16, for God’s sake! No one wants to hear him even TALK about that. “Knowin’ it’s so wrong, but feelin’ so right.” AHHH!! Where are your parents, young man?? You’re grounded, or something.
It’s just impossible for me to take him seriously because of his prominent Groucho Marx eyebrows and, last night, his very prominent — and may I say unfortunate? — Groucho Marx walk/dance steps. I’ve noticed, too, he has a slight lisp when he sings. It seems to me that this could be worked on — uh, that this SHOULD be worked on.
2) Mandisa — my new favorite. She is just LIT from within, that girl. And can she ever SAHHHHNGG!!
3) Katherine McPhee — Simon said she reminds him of Kelly Clarkson. You know what? I think she’s beautiful and I think she can DEFINITELY sing.
BUT …. I remember Kelly, during competition, not seeming to really get just how GOOD she was. She had a freshness and lightness to her. And by “lightness” I mean she didn’t take herself so seriously — was kind of amazed by it all, even.
This girl, Katherine, is very self-aware, conscious of her beauty and talent. And that’s not necessarily a good thing here. There’s a wee bit of the diva I’ve seen creepin’ in. You know, a bit. Gotta keep an eye on her.
4) Still LOVE Taylor and ….
5) …. not sure what I think of that Rudy Huxtable, er, Paris Bennett. Very much a schoolgirl playing dress up to me. Huge voice, just …. I dunno ….. something about her …… Dare I say she has no sex appeal?
Whereas,
6) Chris …. ahem.
Thoughts, anyone?
Today, a little old lady came into The Beanhouse, plopped her shopping bag on the counter and requested, in a faint, crackly voice, a “small dark roast, please.” As I handed her the coffee, I spied something fuzzy poking out of her shopping bag and just had to ask.
“Whatcha got there?”
A huge smile crinkled as she unveiled the fuzzy thing.
It was a big floppy lavender bunny.
She stroked one of the ears. “Feel it,” she cooed.
I did, sinking my hand into its velvety plushness. Suddenly, I wanted my whole life to be covered in this silken softness, my clothes, my sheets, my chairs, my floors, everything.
“It’s so soft,” I murmured. I was just about to ask her who it was for, assuming a granddaughter or a niece, perhaps, when she seemed to read my mind:
“It’s for a friend of mine who hasn’t been feeling very good.” She paused, briefly uncertain.
“Do you think she’ll like it?”
Was she kidding? I wanted it. In that moment, stroking the bunny’s soft lavender ear, I longed for my little girl bed, for my bears and my Eyeore and my stuffed dog, for their constant, cushy comfort, for the long ago days when that was okay. And here was this tiny wrinkled lady bringing it full circle, making it okay again.
“You know what?” I said. “I think she’s gonna love it.”
She smiled again and gently pushed bunny back into the bag.
“Okay. Good. Thank you.”
She teetered out the door on her sensible old lady heels, lavender bunny a quiet secret in the bottom of a bag.
Okay. These are FABULOUS and FUN!
THESE are known as Art*o*Mat machines: vintage, retired cigarette machines filled with small pieces of original art. Seems back in 1997, a clever fellow named Clark Whittington saw the decline — or outlawing — of public smoking as a chance to give new life to these classic but unused machines while at the same time, giving artists a way to repackage their work in fun, fresh ways. Right now, Art*o*Mat machines can be found at over 80 galleries, museums and other public places. About 400 artists worldwide contribute, pricing their little, 2-by-3-inch pieces at about 5 bucks each.
If you happen across one of these machines, you can select which artist’s work you’d like to receive, BUT since each piece is handmade and unique, “you never know what you’re gonna get,” I guess.
You’ve just gotta let go and take a chance on ART!
Look at some examples of what you might get if you DO:
I like the art, but, can I say this — I REALLY want one of these machines!! In my house. So I can sell my “stuff.” Oh, hullo, Betty. You want that necklace I made? Machine. What’s that, Peaches? You want one of my Mocha Chip Cupcakes? Machine. Oh, it’s you, Joey. You want all my posts about how you think I have demons? Umm, yeah …. you ain’t NEVER gettin’ those.
(Anyway, check out the link above if you’re interested to see if there’s an Art*o*Mat near you!)
Okay. Who here is a Certified Barista?
Anyone?
Hullo?
SO AM I THE ONLY ONE???
Yes, it’s true, peeps. I am now a Certified Barista.
And you know what that really truly means? It means is that if I made you a decaf soy hazelnut no-foam latte yesterday, it SUCKED.
But today, TODAY, if I made you a decaf soy hazelnut no-foam latte, it was sheer java perfection. Oh, coffee art, actually. So yesterday, sucky badness. TODAY, pure javaliciousness.
And if you don’t have a genuwine Certified Barista pouring YOUR espresso shots, well, you, my blissfully ignorant friend, are on shaky coffee grounds. Who knows what Slappy the Coffee Guy is pouring you? Are you sure he used nonfat with that? Are you sure that’s decaf? Are you SURE he used sugar-free vanilla syrup?? NO. No, you’re not, my jittery friend. Because Slappy is a Little Dude and Slappy is sloppy.
Look at him, with his unkempt, frowsy hair, his back-of-the-hand, runny-nose wiping, his inferior whipped cream application technique. He’s pathetic. And UNCLEAN, UNCLEAN!! Does he even know how to make wondrous and stripe-y layered drinks? I AM SURE HE DOES NOT. I mean, look at him. He has damn Lincoln Logs poking out from his earlobes like pedals on a bike. If he doesn’t care about this flippant misuse of good ol’ Lincoln Logs, he surely doesn’t care that you just said “extra foam, please.”
I, myself, a Certified Barista, do not have any Lincoln Logs in my earlobes. Lincoln Logs are for building tiny log cabins on the banks of Plum Creek, not for stuffing in your earlobes like little pigs in fleshy blankets.
I mean, seriously, good LUCK with Slappy, the non-certified coffee slosher. Don’t say I didn’t warn you if he uses 2% instead of 1% and you stroke out from all that extra milkfat.
You know, sometimes you’re just down, blue, depressed, “sad sacky” — as an elderly friend of mine used to say. For those days — and ONLY those days, because I think going over there every day just might make ya sick — there’s Cute Overload. Remember, it IS called Cute Overload, so discretion and care must be exercised. I mean it. I am not the cutesy type. You’ve REALLY gotta be sad sacky to use this site properly.
And since I am, I’m cheering myself up. But BEWARE! Look AWAY if you are NOT sad sacky!! Look AWAY if you are naturally cutesy!! It WILL be too much for you!!
All right. Some guy MADE this for his dogs. He MADE this, this “Puppy Mover Monorail” contraption. I’m not cheered by the cuteness, actually, but by the relief of knowing that I’m just somewhat depressed, not completely INSANE.
I believe that good ol’ Snoopy said it best once, “I feel every now and then that I gotta BITE someone!!!” This could be YOU if you run into ME today. Just ask My Beloved. (Please still love me. Dammit! You are contractually obligated! Or something slightly less pissy.)
All right. Calm down, Tracey. You just need a wee nap, that’s all ….. BUT is he napping or forever napping? He looks unnaturally floppy.
AND WHAT ABOUT THIS GUY? NAPPING? OR DEAD?? OHHH NOOOO!! POOR SNNOOOOPY!!
Now I’m just freaked out by all the dead dogs. But this one? Yeah, I thought it was a dog, but it’s just a towel. Thank God.
Sooo ….. yeeahh ….. well, this one totally got away from me.
Hope you’re all cheered up.
