Blue Skies and Yellow Dogs

THE ZADGE HAS MOVED!!!!

2011-02-03T23:00:00.000-07:00

This blog has moved to a new home in the blogosphere. Click here to visit!

Celebrity Cross

2011-02-02T19:30:00.001-07:00

First off, let me just say that you must tune in here on Friday for some exciting news!

Okay, no, I'm not pregnant with Daniel Craig's baby. Despite all his pressure to have a child, because he's "not getting any younger," blah, blah, blah. And no, I wasn't chosen to be one of the Real Housewives of Denver because a) I'm not a housewife, as much as I try and try to be, and b) Denver is way too cool to participate in a superficial show ~~that the Zadge is addicted to~~ like that! No, it is so much more exciting than any of that! So tune in!

Anyhoo, back to our regularly scheduled posting. The Zadge has a game she likes to play with ~~drunks in bars~~ her friends called "Celebrity Cross." Your friends pick two celebrities who, if combined, would look like you.

When she was younger, the Zadge always used to get Sharon Stone and that actress from Crocodile Dundee:

Young Zadge was happy with that Celebrity Cross.

Well, time does march its aging ass on, doesn't it? So now, this is the Celebrity Cross that the Zadge gets:

Frankly, I think a more accurate cross would be this:

A good, aged wine and an aged Sharon Stone!

Who is your Celebrity Cross?

Monday Musings

2011-01-31T16:21:00.000-07:00

1. The Zadge was at the dog park yesterday and a guy was petting Harry. He turned to the Zadge and asked, "What kind of dog is he?" What kind of dog is he?

Dude, have you been living under a freakin' rock? It's not like he's some exotic, rarely seen breed - for chrissakes, he's a Lab! Only the most ubiquitous dog in the entire country. So The Zadge told him he was a Pomeranian. And he bought it.

2. You know those iPad commercials? The ones with that tune? Doont doont doont, doont doont a doonta doont. OMG, it's like crack cocaine or something: once you hear it, you just can't stop doonting it!

3.     Someone, please, please explain Kristen Stewart.

4.     Is the Zadge the only one who can't tell the difference between Al Pacino, Robert DeNiro and Dustin Hoffman?

5.     Breaking news: Charlie "I make Robert Downey Jr. in his worst days look sober" Sheen has entered three months of rehab.....in his own home. The alleged rehab-ers are going to come to his mega-mansion in his gated community to try and help Charlie get better. The same home where he entertains his really smart porn stars and smokes his briefcase full of dope.   I wonder if the porn stars and drug dealers just go into the guest room and nap while the re-hab-ers do their thing?

6. I know you all have just been sitting on the edge of your seats, waiting for more tales about the Zadge taking The Buuuussssss to work! But those tales would require the Zadge to have actually ridden the bus since that first day in January. Which she has not. But she has brought her lunch for three straight weeks, so she hopes that counts for something toward her fiscal sobriety.

7.    You are also probably just waiting with bated breath (what the hell does that mean, anyway?) to hear about the Zadge's latest dating adventures. But that would require the Zadge to actually go on a date, which she had not done the entire freakin' year. Okay, so that's only 30 days so far. Still. Anybody know any good available men in Colorado?

8.    Just who authors all the Wikipedia definitions?

9.     The Zadge does not understand those ~~dumbshits~~ people who get a personalized license plate that spells out the type of car they drive. Like "BMW5" or "PRIUS" or " 'STANG." Like you can't read the manufacturer's insignia above the plate? Or maybe you just keep forgetting what kind of car you drive, so at the stop light, you run around back to check out what your license plate says?

10.    Stay tuned for some Blue Skies and Yellow Dogs news!! A revamped blog is in progress and will be launching soon! More details to follow!

Another excerpt from The Cleaning Lady Chronicles

2011-01-28T16:31:00.000-07:00

Yes, Lorenza has struck again. For my new readers, Lorenza is the Zadge's bossy, opinionated, spelling-challenged cleaning lady. The Zadge pays Lorenza to come once a week, suck up all the dog and cat hair, make everything shiny and clean, and then toss out vague insults at the Zadge.

Like when she implied that the Zadge was a high-maintenance narcissist with spoiled dogs.

Or when she implied that the Zadge really needed to find a husband.

Ok, so maybe she has a point.

Anyhoo, here's today's "Lorenza Lecture":

Let's discuss, shall we? You gotta love the first sentence and its obvious sympathy for the Zadge's grief. And the Zadge just loves the second sentence prescribing weeks of booze and pills to ease the Zadge's pain! Who knew my cleaning lady was also a physician?!

But here's the kicker: after all the sweet words of encouragement and sympathy, Lorenza drops her own little footnote, basically telling me that I maintain a pigsty of a home, that the stench is so great that she was forced to fumigate the house and remove the dog bed to the outdoors, and thereby implying that I forced my sweet Jackson to spend his last days on earth on a bed of filth!

Dr. Lorenza, I have one question for you: if I was not such a sloth, what in Baby Jesus of Bethlehem's name would I need you for?!

Oh right, the prescription for the pills.

When the A Team came to the Zadge's rescue

2011-01-26T21:07:00.001-07:00

When you are in the deepest pain you have felt in your life, and your heart feels like it has a hole that will never heal, and your house seems horribly quiet and empty in spite of Harry and Tulip, what is the only thing that can make you smile?

A surprise visit from Moomskers!!!!

Yes, my unbelievable, rockstar mother secretly booked a flight Friday, after she learned of the awfulness her daughter was going to have to go through the next morning, and flew 2000 miles west to surprise and comfort her grieving daughter. And swore the Zadge's Sista into complicity and silence.

So the Zadge came home from the awfulness on Saturday morning and immediately called Moomskers. No answer. Which the Zadge thought was a little odd, because she knew that Moomskers knew when the awfulness was happening.

The Zadge then called the Sista, and proceeded to cry and talk about the Shone for almost two hours. After running out of tears, the Zadge told the Sista that she was going to take Harry for a long walk, then try and call Moomskers again.

There was a long pause.

Then the Sista said, "I don't think you are going to be able to reach her."

"What, is she in some all day bridge tournament or something?" By the way, is there anyone under the age of 60 who plays bridge? Anyone? Hello?

Another long pause. "She's on a plane," said the ~~secret agent~~ Sista.

This time the pause came from the Zadge, as she slowly processed this. "Holy shit! Is she coming here?" "Oh shit, I wasn't supposed to say anything," said the Sista and failed secret agent.

Moomskers' daughters like to drop the "shit" bomb.

The Zadge then waterboarded the Sista over the phone and got the details: Moomskers decided that she just had to be there for her daughter, so she bought a ticket, reserved the Super Shuttle to take her from the Denver airport to Old Vicky and then she planned to appear on the front porch to surprise her grieving daughter.

The Zadge was elated and felt a break in her grief. But the Zadge is not that easy to get over on. Especially when there is a double agent in the mix. So the Zadge had the Sista make a covert call or two to Moomskers to get some pertinent info, and the Zadge canceled the Super Shuttle reservation, figured out when Moomskers' flight was landing, and drove herself and Harry to the airport to surprise Moomskers!

As Moomskers saw the Zadge and Harry walking through the airport, she was shocked. "How did you know?!" It was then that I had to disclose that the Sista was a double agent. We laughed and hugged each other and headed home to toast the Shone.

So how great is my Moomskers?!! Seriously, is she The Bomb Mom or what???

And how about a shout out to my friends from The Top Secret Day Job, who came over on Sunday to help distract the Zadge from the awfulness of the day before. Moomskers made a big ole' pot of soup (Sausage, White Bean and Kale, in case you are a foodie) and we all ate and drank (duh, it's the Zadge's house) and toasted the Shone:

Plus, all of her friends brought their own critters to the party! PugMama and the Karaoke Slut brought their dogs (that's Buster the Super Pug with Moomskers in the first photo). The Hazz brought her own adorable critters:

Child Protective Services, please ignore that open wine bottle in front of the six-year old.

So thanks to a fierce, loving mother, a double agent sister, a bunch of good friends and happy critters - not to mention the soup and wine -- the Zadge closed out her weekend of grief with a smile on her face and a superpug on her lap:

I now have a real Angel in Heaven

2011-01-24T17:10:00.002-07:00

My sweet boy Jackson passed away on Saturday morning, one week after his 13th birthday.

He laid in my arms and his tail didn't stop wagging until his very last breath. Although I am suffering greatly without him, he did not suffer at all. I chose to put him down before the Evil Tumor could cause him any pain. I hope I have honored him, as he honored my life with the greatest gift I could ever have received.

If you could channel pure love and put it in a furry, wiggly, tail-wagging container, you would have the Shone.

Some of you may wonder where his nickname "Shone" came from. Well, in the beginning, he was just Jackson. Then a couple of people started referring to him as "Action Jackson," based on some god-knows-what-guy-movie at the time. Who knows why, but I then started calling him the Latin version of that, "Actshonius Jacksonius." The Zadge's then-boyfriend, The Gush, picked up on it and started calling him "Shonius." That morphed into "Shone" (and, for a bit, after the whole rapper-war, "Shone Loc" and sometimes just "'Nius"). Other nicknames came along too, like Bob Barker, Wiggle Butt, Poop Eater, Charlie Chaplin (because of his walk) and Bubba Boy.

This is the very first photo I ever took of the baby Shone, in March 1998:

He was 7 weeks old, still in his crate at the breeder's on the Eastern Shore. A family in Seattle had originally put dibs on him, then changed their mind - THANK GOD!

He was a fat little ball of furry fun and love:

He loved to chew sticks:

and his mommy's socks:

Baby Shone wasn't quite sure what to make of his almost-feral older sister, Charlie:

He liked to chillax under the bed - until he was about 7 months and couldn't fit anymore:

He was the happiest little puppy:

The poor little guy had to have a hip replacement when he was only ten months old, suffering from extreme hip dysplasia. But he spread love throughout the vet hospital - the staff said they had never seen a dog wag his tail so much!

He had to go back in the hospital a year later to have his elbows fixed, and once again, the staff said they had never seen such a happy dog:

Doesn't he kind of look like he is wearing leg warmers a la Jennifer Beals?!

Even though he wasn't blessed with the strongest skeleton, Jackson was blessed with an uncanny ability to spread love everywhere he went. Even when he got super wet and dirty at the dog park, his aura of love prevented his mom from getting angry:

The only time I ever saw him not so happy was when I dressed him up on Halloween in a prisoner's costume, complete with ball and chain, called "Bad Dog:"

Perhaps because he knew he could never, ever be a bad dog.

He loved, loved his frisbees. He carried them everywhere he went:

..in the ocean:

and in the snow:

He and I spent 10 straight summers at the Outer Banks in North Carolina, in Duck:

I think it was his favorite place in the world and I plan to spread his ashes in the ocean there:

Jackson traveled all over the United States with his mom. He marked all the trees in the Grand Canyon:

He was Walkin' in Memphis:

He celebrated his 9th birthday running with birds on the shores of the Pacific Ocean in Santa Cruz:

Even with his compromised joints, he hiked the Marin Headlands:

He jumped in fountains at wineries in Sonoma, California:

He loved his mommy:

...and made her happier than anything has in her life:

This is the last photo I ever took of the Shone, a few hours before I took him to the vet this past Saturday morning:

I've always felt like Jackson was brought into my life to be my angel and protector. I don't think I would have had the nerve to do many of my travels and adventures without my angel sitting at my side. And I think he must have felt that now, in January 2011, I was ready to continue on my journey without him right at my side.

But I know he is still with me, just higher up in the air. And for that, I am grateful beyond words.

There is a story I've heard before: a family has to put down an old dog and they ask the vet to allow their six-year old son to be present, so he can learn about life and dying. As the vet is about to put the dog to sleep, the mother cried, "Why can't dogs live longer?"

Her six-year old son turned and said, "People are born so that they can learn how to live a good life -- like loving everybody all the time and being nice, right? Well, dogs already know how to do that, so they don't have to stay as long."

Enjoy Jackson on his last walk:

Why you do not want the Zadge to be one of your bridesmaids

2011-01-19T17:05:00.000-07:00

One of the Zadge's oldest friends, Heidi, is in town tonight. Not like Heidi's a nonagenarian or anything. I mean I have known her since back in my grad school days in Boston, you know, before the invention of ~~electricity~~ the interwebs.

The Zadge is meeting Heidi for dinner tonight and is looking forward to the distraction, what with the utterly devastating and depressing return of the Shone's Super Evil Supersized Tumor and all.

Heidi and the Zadge ran around Boston for years, studying boys more than we did books. Eventually, one of us -- guess who it wasn't -- landed a husband. And Heidi asked the Zadge to be one of her bridesmaids. The Zadge said yes, not knowing then that the phrase "Always a bridesmaid, never a bride" was apparently coined for her spinster ass.

Anyhoo, Heidi's wedding was in beautiful, historic Faneuil Hall in Boston. And for some reason that only early 1990s fashion knows, the Zadge and her fellow 'maids wore a black velvet, really short, off-the-shoulder dress from Victoria's Secret and gold glitter hose. After the ceremony, all of the guests were moved into the reception hall, while the bride and groom stood behind big, folding, wooden doors, waiting to make their official entrance as Man and Wife.

To this day, I blame it on the shoddy construction circa 1776.

See, the bridesmaids were lined up next to the doors in order of descending height. Which meant Miss Amazon was standing right next to the doors. Someone on the other side of the doors opened them to let Mr. and Mrs. Heidi walk through and greet their happy guests.

Except that Mrs. Heidi's wedding dress was huge and the Zadge could see that she wasn't going to fit through the little opening between the two big folding wooden doors. In an effort to ably perform her 'maid duties, the Zadge pushed the door nearest her to open up a wider path for her bride-friend. The Zadge assumed that back in 1776 they attached their goddamn doors to hinges.

But apparently the patriots had more on their minds than attaching their goddamn doors to anything. Because right then and there, in front of the 200 guests, and the horrified bride-friend, the big ole wooden door fell straight down on top of the freakin' five-tier wedding cake.

I couldn't make this shit up if I tried.

After a hundred gasps filled the air, the caterers ran over and airlifted the carnage to Mass General. Miraculously, about an hour later, the cake re-emerged looking almost like its pre-door-assault self! Of course, the Zadge was the butt of a lot of jokes that night (Wow, this cake is great - it comes with its own toothpicks!)

And as Heidi told the Zadge years later as she was going through her divorce, she should have recognized the Door in the Cake as an omen!

Wherein our heroine becomes a catty Beotch

2011-01-17T12:06:00.000-07:00

Could the Zadge's Sunday have been more perfect? All day on the couch, in front of a roaring fire, with her two yellow bookends, watching football and fashion on the tube.

Well, it could have been better had her husband Tom Brady won - remember, I look like Giselle according to a 5 year old with impaired vision. And yes, I know I changed from a third person narrative to a first person in the same sentence. It's my blog, I can be grammatically incorrect if I want to.

On to the Golden Globes! I had a notebook by my side, so I could remember the highlights and lowlights. One side was labeled "Good/Best Dresses" and the other was labeled "Ugh/Bad Dresses." I tried not to be critical. (Yeah, right). But the Ugh column ended up much longer than the Good column.

But let's start on a positive note:

This woman is the hottest thing on the planet. 'nuff said.

I'm not a big fan of Anne Hathaway because her face makes me think of a neighing horse. But I loved her Armani dress, even with the Krystal Carrington shoulders:

Olivia Wilde looked like a beautiful, if somewhat ginormous, chocolate confection:

Having gotten rid of her basketball playing boob, Eva showed off her natural little boobs:

I'm starting to sound a wee bit like a lesbian, aren't I? Six months on Match.com will do that to you.

Now, not everyone agrees with me on this one, but I actually loved JLo's dress with the sheer, sparkly capelet:

Ok, now for the fun stuff. Helena Bonham Carter, I know you have that wacky persona to keep going, but seriously woman, the mismatched Christmas shoes are ree-dick-u-lus:

Christian Bale, the L.A. homeless shelter called and said you are out past your curfew:

Oh, Heidi, this would get you kicked off Project Runway:

Now, we all love our Sandy Bullock and her little Louie and the way she drop-kicked that tatted-up skank of a husband to the curb. But Sandy, your high school called and wants their hairdo back.

So I'm overusing the "so-and-so called" joke. Again, my blog.

I trust that immediately after not winning her Globe, Julieanne Moore rushed to the emergency room to have the dress that was growing out of her neck removed:

I know Warren Beatty is practically senile, but do you think Annette forgot to wash and comb her hair when she got out of bed Sunday morning:

Why is she orange and do you think it is rubbing off all over that white dress:

This matronly dress and fugly hairdo explain why Ryan left:

Is it just me, or does January Jones look like she is about to pull out an ice-pick and stick it in some guy who wronged her:

I don't know who Leighton Meister is, or why she has so many vowels in her name, but I do know that her grandmother on the prairie called and wants her dress back:

But the winner of the Freakshow of the Night had to be nutty Tilda Swinton:

Tilda, the Pope called, he wants his vestment back.

HAPPY 13th BIRTHDAY TO THE SHONE!!!!!

2011-01-15T14:16:00.000-07:00

Why we love our BFFs. And 5 year olds with really bad vision.

2011-01-14T18:58:00.001-07:00

The Zadge's BFF knew that the Zadge was struggling through a little bad patch, what with the whole my-angel-is-dying-of-cancer thing, plus the Oh-Jeezus-I'm-not-married-and-I-have-no-kids-and-they're-going-to-find-me-dead-slouched-in-a-horrible vinyl recliner-when-I'm-82-watching-reruns-of-"Law and Order"-while-19-cats-lick-the-pickle-juice-off-my-lips scenario playing in the Zadge's brain this week.

So here's the real email the Zadge's BFF sent her, with the subject heading "This should make you feel better:"

"I was looking at pics on E!online and when I got to one of Giselle in a bikini, Will [BFF's 5 year old son] said "that's Zadge!""

And that my friends is why we treasure our BFFs!

Laughing Through the Tears

2011-01-12T22:47:00.002-07:00

Please excuse any typos in this post. The Zadge's eyes are swollen and red from a full 24-hour crying fest. The news was not good at the oncologist's yesterday. The Evil Cancer is back, it's back fast, faster than they've ever seen, and there's nothing to do, short of chopping off the Shone's foot, which the Zadge will not even entertain.

The Shone's days as the Zadge's earth-bound angel apparently are limited.

After she got the bad news last night, the Zadge went hunting for a box of old photos to check out some baby Shone, pre-digital shots. She couldn't find the box, but found an old, old box of miscellaneous stuff from her much younger days. A box she hadn't opened in decades.

And that old, dusty box made the tears stop and made our heartbroken heroine laugh.

Like this shot of the young-but-not-small-Zadge's first grade class, circa 1971. You know how they always put the tallest person in the back row, in the middle? Yep, your's truly, minus a few front teeth, but with a big white Peter Pan collar:

Check out the young Ricky Martin to my right. And how about the shorty-hipster in the front row, second from the left, about to head out and croon a few tunes with the original Brat Pack?

Then I found the "First Year Away from Home at College" file and laughed again. Apparently, the Zadge was not a happy camper the first few months of college, because there are lots of soothing letters from Moomskers assuring me that it would be okay and that I'd meet friends. Plus, this comforting Valentine's Day card from my little brother:

I laughed when I saw that I had actually made the local papers my first year of college:

Oh, Moomskers must have been so proud that this was her daughter's first press in Charlottesville! Yes, that is a guy drinking beer out of a toilet plunger. This is a story about the end of "Easters," a 100-year tradition of drunkenness to celebrate Thomas Jefferson's birthday at UVa, which became known as the "Best Party in the Nation." Do you now see why UVa has such a high academic ranking?

And, yes, that is the Zadge in the left corner, in front of a fraternity, watching the guy drink out of the plunger while she drinks out of a plastic cup with a fraternity brother who was not her hometown boyfriend, who she would end up making out with that night, and dating for 3 months, while still dating the hometown boyfriend. And yes, she has feathered hair and too much eye makeup.

And there was this sweet little "poem" in a love letter from the hometown boyfriend on their two-year anniversary:

Oops! There wouldn't be more of Zadge in '84 because it was not long after she received this sweet letter that the Zadge broke Matt's heart and dumped him for the guy in the newspaper photo above. Who promptly dumped her for a girl named Sandy, who was one of the Zadge's new college friends, and Sandy dumped him when the Zadge told her two years later that she saw him cheating on her with some other chick. Got it? Sandy and the Zadge are still bestest buddies and he is as bald as a cue-ball with a big jiggly belly.

Speaking of jiggly bellies, I found my calendar from my sophomore year of college:

Does that not just symbolize the era? Not convinced? Well, how about the entry for June 10, 1984:

Oh, our girl was one cutting-edge rocker.

Included in the box of retro-goodies was a History Final Exam from the University of Virginia circa 1984:

It was apparently prepared on a "typewriter" -- you readers under the age of 25 - yea, all one of you - go ahead and and look it up on Wikipedia. And I have no idea what any of the questions mean, and I would surely fail if I had to take it today, which is scary, because I'm (relatively) sober now and I can guarantee you that I was not when I was taking that test 27 years ago.

Oh, and I laughed when I found this news clipping of the cute bass player from a very popular Charlottesville band that I dated between my sophomore and junior year:

All the girls used to stand in front of the stage and go nuts when he smiled. But all I remember is that he was color blind, and therefore, so easy to beat when we played Trivial Pursuit.

Finally, I laughed when I found this letter, apparently a response to an application I had submitted to work on a dude ranch in Wyoming for the summer:

"Other candidates appear to have a bit more experience?" No!! You mean, they are not some tall, gawky, white-bread girl raised in utter suburbia, who has, at that point in her life, been on a plane ONCE, and it was when she was six, so she really doesn't remember much, rode a couple of docile ponies at summer camp in seventh grade and was rushed to the nurse because her eyes swelled shut, and the only real wild thing she has ever ridden is a D.C. Metro Bus?

But here's the thing. I had completely forgotten about applying to work on that ranch, and I have no idea how or why I came up with it, having absolutely zero exposure to any life outside of my Maryland suburban world. But it made me think, wow, my ~~little~~ young self had enough self-awareness to know that the West was where she was supposed to end up.

And it made me laugh. Which is what I so desperately needed.

Evil is in the Air

2011-01-10T19:26:00.000-07:00

Evil has come to Old Vicky. It's not Lord Voldemort, or Hannibal Lector, or that mass murderer in Tuscon. (By the way, I think his parents should be charged as accessories for not getting their kid on anti-psychotic meds and/or committed and locking his written threats away in their safe.)

No, but it is evil just the same. The Shone's cancerous tumor has returned:

We meet tomorrow with the oncologist to confirm, but The Zadge is sad, sad, sad. So is the Shone:

The evil has even sucked the fun out of the irrepressible Harry:

Nut jobs are killing 9-year olds, pastors, grandmothers and federal judges. Evil tumors creep back into the sweetest dog ever, despite being completely eradicated by surgery, radiation and chemo. Sarah Palin is putting crosshair targets on politicians she disagrees with.

As the Zadge's friend PugMama said today upon finding the Zadge weeping at her desk, "There is some bad juju going around." Sigh. Yes, there is.

Saturday Sayin's

2011-01-08T18:27:00.000-07:00

Isn't Eastern medicine supposed to make you feel all zen and whatnot?

2011-01-07T18:54:00.000-07:00

Do you know what this is?

No, it's not the wrist of a cadaver that the Zadge happened to be sitting next to on Thheee Buussssss, and brought home because she needs someone to give her a hand around the house. (Chortle, chortle, isn't our gal just the funniest?) Even though it does look like that, doesn't it? It's actually a photo of the bruise on the Zadge's wrist, resulting from the acupuncture treatment she received yesterday. Oh, yeah, and the bottom half of the Zadge's blackberry. The blackberry didn't get any acupuncture.

Now, do you know what this is?

This is the $60 big plastic jug of special powder that the Zadge's new Chinese Medicine doc gave her as part of a treatment plan for her arthritic knees and some other inflammatory ailments. Uh, let's just say that Harry isn't the only one in Old Vicky suffering from a "spastic" colon.

But Zadge, why did you spend $60 on such a clearly damaged big plastic jug, you ask. Yeah, it didn't really look like that when I bought it at the holistic clinic last night at 6 p.m., ran home, threw it on the table and then ran out to meet some friends for dinner.

And any of you who have been reading this little blog for longer than a nanosecond know what's coming next.

This is what I found when I got home from dinner:

Do you think he was self-medicating? And do you now understand why the Zadge does?

The BUUSSSSSS!

2011-01-05T20:22:00.000-07:00

Growing up in the D.C. suburbs, the Zadge family lived next to the Murphy family. The Murphys had four kids, one of whom was Beverly, a year older than the Zadge. Every morning, the neighborhood kids would stand at the bus stop, which was right in front of the Murphys' house, waiting for their big yellow ride to elementary school. (And if you need a good laugh or have forgotten what our ~~gangling galoot~~ intrepid heroine looked like back in elementary school, just check out how she rocked some tall polyester here.)

Anyhoo, Beverly was, shall we say, a big girl. She also sang in a Baptist choir and had a big voice to match her big body. So every single morning, as the big yellow bus rounded the corner at the top of the street and started to head down toward the bus stop, Beverly would holler at the top of her big Baptist lungs, "Thhheeee BUUUUSSSSSSSSS!"

And every little kid who hadn't got their ass out to the bus stop would come storming out of their little suburban house, running to catch "Thhheeee Buuussssss."

OK, flash forward to 2011. Our girl is no longer sporting goofy polyester outfits. But see this?

This is the bus stop that the Zadge was standing at this past Monday morning waiting for a Denver city bus to pick her up and take her to the Top Secret Day Job. Yea, I know, some of you who know the Zadge in real life are all "Say whaa?" As The Hazz said to the Zadge the other day, "Don't take this the wrong way, but you really aren't the bus type. You do know it stops a lot, right?"

But see, the Zadge has decided to try and save some money in 2011. Since 2010 was The Year of Spending Like You're a Real Housewife of Beverly Hills, what with the new kitchen, the new bathroom, the trips to Mexico, Santa Fe, D.C., the Big Apple, Crested Butte, and the whole mortal battle against The Evil Canine Cancer Sorcerer. And taking the (free) bus is one way the Zadge is trying to save some cabbage.

So, the Zadge hasn't been on a bus since Michael Jackson was not only alive, but was still black. The trip in the morning went fine, other than the Zadge chatting up the girl next to her about the book she was reading, which apparently violates the don't-make-any-eye-contact-at-all-let-alone-speak bus riding rule (but not the feel-free-to-hack-sneeze-cough-all-over-the-communal-bus-air-without-covering-your-sickass-mouth rule).

It was the bus ride home that was a bit of a problem.

I left my office at the Top Secret Day Job and headed out to the street to get "my" bus, thinking I was a couple of minutes before the scheduled departure. Only to see the red, rear lights of the Number 4B bus as it pulled away from my bus stop. Did I mention that it was cold? Like 9 degrees cold? And that I thought the next bus wasn't coming for another 25 minutes?

What's a cold, newbie-bus riding Zadge to do?

Run like a crazed maniac after the bus, yelling at the top of her lungs, "Wait, wait!" In a suit. And heels. In the snow. Carrying a huge purse and a bag filled with smelly gym clothes.

Very sophisticated, the Zadge is.

A block later, I thought I caught the bus. There was a red light and it stopped. Just as I started to slow down, the light turned green and the bus took off again. God-dang muther F-bomb! So I started sprinting again, as fast as a 46-year old woman, with arthritic knees, in high heels and swinging bags can sprint. Which is why the speedy bus stopped at another red light, then went through another green light, until it stopped at the third red light before our Sprinting Spinster finally was able to catch the damn bus.

As she sat on the bus trying not to go into cardiac arrest, she realized that if 2011 is truly going to be the Year of Saving, she really, really needs Beverly Murphy.

Thhheeee Buuusssssssss!

P.S. Thanks and hugs to Mrs. Tuna for kindly honoring me with a Stylish Bogger Award! Check out her funny blog!

Monday Musings

2011-01-03T17:11:00.000-07:00

The Zadge's 11-month old Bosch dishwasher stopped working and flooded her brand new kitchen. The good news is that it happened 20 days before her warranty expired. The bad news is that some damn European part needs to be ordered and is apparently arriving via the Queen Mary 2. So for the next two weeks, the Zadge has to do her own dishes. Her hands are wrinkled, dried out prunes and her dishes really aren't that clean.
The Zadge has a couple of problems with those Cialis commercials. What married, middle-aged couple that you know suddenly wants to "get it on" while they are raking leaves? Come to think of it, what married couple do you know that rakes together ?
And how come you should see your doctor only if "your erection lasts longer than four hours?" I mean, my god, some dude raking leaves with a huge boner for 3 and a half hours is not a problem?
Trust me on this one: You must watch "Southland" on TNT. The new season starts on Tuesday, January 4. Get on your DVR now.
What, me, bossy?
Do you know what it is like to live in Denver and not like skiing? Having to deal with those people who are all oh how can you not love skiing it's just the bomb and all it's an epic powder day and all I just did a run down the back bowls blah blah blah? And all you want to do is yell shut the f-bomb up what is so great about sliding down a nearly vertical frozen hill waiting for some hipster 'boarder to slam into you and damage your already arthritic knees and then freeze your ass off while you wait in line to get on some lift that you just know you are going to fall off of and die before you ever get to the bar at apres-ski.
Jeggings. Discuss.
The Zadge had to move one of her chairs upstairs to make room for her Blue Christmas Tree. Look who now uses it whenever she needs to cool down from her time on the heated bathroom floor:
I know you all have been sitting on the edge of your laptops waiting and waiting for an update on the Zadge's efforts to grow out her ~~baby goose~~ Sharon Stone 'do, the haircut that did absolutely nuthin' for her last year in landing her cowboy. Well, you can all exhale now - the 'goose is almost long enough to pull back into a midget pigtail. And efforts to do that have the added benefit of making the Zadge look like she got a quick face lift.
The Zadge's resolution this year is to find a ~~sugar daddy~~ significant other so that she can stop being the sole provider of herself and quit her Top Secret Day Job and just do photography and writing and interior design and cooking projects all day long.

The Year That Was - the Photo Edition

2010-12-31T19:12:00.000-07:00

Despite the Gulf oil spill, the struggling economy, the Democratic slaughter at the polls, the Real Housewives of D.C. and Beverly Hills, and the fact that there are actually people in this country who think Sarah Palin is fit for office, the Zadge had a good year in 2010!

She did lots of fun stuff outside:

Zadge snowshoes while Harry forages for deer poo

Hiking with Harry and his boo

That smile is hiding sheer terror

So is that one

Hiking with Babe the Builder

Yep, there's that smile/terror thing again

OK, so here the Zadge isn't outside. But she was moments before, playing tennis.

The Zadge rocked out too, but didn't quit her day job to become a rock star like she really wants to, because she can't carry a note or play an instrument:

My boo Keith Urban

Sheryl Crow

Little Big Town

The Zadge and her homies hit the road too:

The Zadge is so green, what with her fresh wildflowers and chemical caffeine.

Better than a Tempur-pedic pillow.

Blue Skies and Black Truck

Through the Crested Butte Looking Glass

Dead folk in Colorado

Backseat Drivers

The Zadge took a lot of photographs this year:

Nice crotch shot

The paparazzi are always after the Zadge

Zadge's favorite photo from 2010

Oh, and thank Baby Jesus of Bethlehem for bringing the Zadge a new loo this year:

Before - Heinous

After - Aahhhh!

2010 brought not one, but two visits from the Fin Fan Club!

The two sweetest boys ever

How cute can one curly-topped cutie be?

Maybe he'll be the rockstar his aunt longs to be

Heaven

The Zadge made lots of new friends this year:

Santa Fe Photography Homies

Bloggin' Sistas Meg and Bee

Funny Jess from BernThis

And she hung with her old homies too:

The Kaiser and his Harem

One of the Zadge's BFFs

Lucy the Lover


Babe the Builder on the Zadge's, ahem, 29th birthday

Late night fun. Notice the Zadge's wine-stained teeth.

And can we all thank Baby J. again for her new kitchen?

Before - doesn't really show THE BLOOD on the floor from the previous owner!

After - Sit down and have a drink while I cook you a meal!

The Zadge loves her new fireplace too

Once her new kitchen was done, the Zadge did lots of entertaining:

And of course, 2010 was filled with lots of fun with her critters:

Plus some critters that weren't her own:

Best Stinkeye of 2010

Stinkeye First Runner up

This was taken moments before Star gave Zadge the stinkeye.

There were a few low points in 2010:

But my angel ended up kicking some holy-cancer-ass in the end:

There were some fashion mishaps:

Yeah, I spent New Year's Eve 2009 out like that.

It's obvious. White women can't dance:

Of course, there was the failed Mexican romance:

The Zadge is still suffering from PTSD after his visit.

But all in all, 2010 was a great year! And I'm so grateful for all of you -- my family, my friends, my critters, my new bloggy friends, my lurkers, all of you!!

From us here in snowy Denver, we wish you good humor, good fortune, and good health in 2011!

The Zadge's Rockin' Christmas

2010-12-29T18:56:00.000-07:00

Yeah, yeah, I know. Everyone has already posted the charming recaps of their Christmas holidays.

And we are all at that point -- and it happens instantly the day after Christmas - where, if we hear one more damn Bing Crosby/Ray Conniff/Johnny Mathis holiday tune, or see one more chubby, middle-aged woman (Wait!! I'm middle aged!!) wearing some awful, red felt reindeer sweater, we will just pelt Santa himself with leftover Christmas cookies.

I know all that, but I'm still going to show you the highlights from The Zadge's Family Christmas! It's my blog! I can do whatever I want!!

We started off Christmas Eve with the Zadge's 11-year old nephew ~~pretending he's~~ waiting for Santa, even though no one actually acknowledged that he knew Santa was a big fat lie:

After enjoying Moomskers' big holiday meal - ham and beef bourguignon - the Zadge curled into bed at Moomskers' house, with images of her nephews opening all their presents from "Santa" in the morning.

Like the little blue snow jacket that the Zadge got for the Fin:

The Fin loved Moomskers' tree:

Especially when he saw the Christmas card his own mom had sent out featuring a photo of his truly hanging on Moomskers' tree:

All of the members of the Fin Fan Club loved his shoes:

Now, the Zadge's family doesn't just sit around like every one else and open presents on Christmas Day. No, the Zadge's family rocks:

We even had the Little Drummer Boy!

Yeah, Moomksers can rock around the Christmas tree:

The Fin thought his silly family was very funny:

After the rock show, we calmed down. We built 4D puzzles of New York City:

We chillaxed under the tree with our new cars:

We chillaxed in Moomskers' big squishy chair while someone was forced to watch "The Matrix" while someone's tween/teen nephews declared the movie "Awesome" and "Epic":

We hugged the family dogs:

We loved having Moomskers' famous Spaghetti and Meatballs dinner (and wine for those of us over 13) for Sunday night dinner:

The Zadge loved hanging with her homies, the Sista and Moomskers:

But, of course, the highlight was seeing the little Fin, just mesmerized by all his new trucks/trains/tractors!

A truly rocking Christmas!

The Zadge's Christmas Cookie Conundrum

2010-12-27T18:44:00.000-07:00

When the Zadge got home from work last Thursday, she found a holiday gift bag from her dog walker, filled with treats.

It included two giant peanut butter-flavored rawhides in the shape of candy canes. Easy enough to figure out who those were for:

And easy enough to figure out what and who caused the 1:30 a.m. diarrhea on the rug that night.

The gift from the dog walker also included a catnip-laced toy. Again, easy enough to figure out who that was for:

This is your ~~brain~~ cat on ~~drugs~~ catnip:

Finally, the gift from the dog walker included these two bags:

Inside were very small-sized, cookie-type-looking-things:

Except they didn't really look like home baked human cookies. They looked a little dry and a little brown, and did I mention dry. So the Zadge assumed they were two bags of dog cookies for the Shone and Harry.

But on closer examination, the Zadge saw rice krispie bits, and something that looked like white icing, and maybe even something that could or could not be chocolate. Things that the Zadge has never seen in "traditional" dog cookies. So then the Zadge started thinking that maybe these brown, dry faux cookies were for her. But then the fact that there were two bags instead of one, made her think that, again, they were for the dogs.

Unless, of course, the dog walker was operating under the delusion - emphasis on delusion - that the Zadge was part of a couple. The Zadge pauses here and asks, what exactly is a couple? I digress. Anyhoo, if her dog walker was so delusional, then perhaps the two bags were in fact human cookies intended for the Zadge and her significant other, the man that all her hired help apparently thinks either exists or will shortly be appearing.

Thus, the Zadge sat in her kitchen, peering at the two bags of homemade something or other, and had to decide: 1) would she give them to her dogs to try first, risking that the cookies may in fact have been designed for the Zadge and her Imaginary Husband, and thereby ensuring yet another middle-of-the-night-clean-up-of-runny-dog-poo, or 2) would she try them herself, risking that they may in fact have been designed for her own notorious-poop-eating-dogs, thereby ensuring that she herself would have runny poos in the middle of the night?

Guess what she did?

She gave them to her Imaginary Husband and told him to enjoy.

Saturday Sayin's

2010-12-25T05:52:00.002-07:00

Merry Christmas!!!

Sending lots of Love & Peace

to all my friends out there

on the interwebs!

Ho Ho Ho!

The Cleaning Lady Chronicles, Part 3.

2010-12-23T17:17:00.000-07:00

Remember my bossy cleaning lady Lorenza? You know, the one who likes to voice her uninvited opinions on the Zadge's life?

Well, she came and cleaned the Zadge's house today. The Zadge had left her a note before she left for work a) warning her that Harry had diarrhea on the ~~formerly $6,000~~ rug at 1:30 in the morning and b) wishing her a Merry Christmas, as well as a $75 bonus.

This is what Lorenza left me in return (click on image to enlarge):

Welcome to the Zadge's Open House

2010-12-22T19:21:00.001-07:00

Last Sunday, the Zadge opened Old Vicky to her friends to ring in the holidays. Ok, honestly, there was no "ringing," other than Old Vicky's doorbell. But the Zadge loves her a good cliche, so there you have it.

All weekend, the Zadge baked, and cooked, and shopped, getting ready for her fete. She bought enough booze to keep half of Denver drunk for a week. God forbid anyone leave the Zadge's house sober.

Babe the Builder showed up early to act as the Zadge's party-wingman:

Doesn't Babe look cute in her Athleta sweater dress? The Zadge has the same dress! Isn't it cute when friends in their 40's dress identically?!

When Babe the Builder arrived at Old Vicky, the Zadge was calmly setting the table with all her party food:

The star was the Zadge's pet pig, also known as the Honeybaked Ham:

Porky the Pig was accompanied by Moomsker's delish coleslaw:

plus some of Houston's Spinach-Artichoke Dip:

and Martha "Yes, I really am as bitchy as I seem" Stewart's Pistachio Cheese Log:

The Zadge tossed in some sweets, like the yummy White Chocolate-Oatmeal-Craisin cookies that are a tradition in the Zadge's family:

and the aptly named "Crack," a recipe from the Zadge's sister-in-law that requires a ridiculous mix of pretzels, Reese's cups, chocolate chips, peanuts, butter, brown sugar, and Fritos. Yes, Fritos:

You wouldn't believe the number of crackheads that were in Old Vicky on Sunday!

So after she calmly set the table full of the goodies, and one minute before the first guest was to arrive, the Zadge turned to her special Champagne Punch she had prepared as the signature drink of the party.

Now, the Zadge had hunted high and low all week for a damn punch bowl for the party. Did Target have one? Nope. Bed, Bath and Beyond? Only some $100 wedding registry thingy. The Zadge finally found one at Crate and Barrel and reluctantly forked out $45 for it, knowing she would probably never use it again.

Yeah, she would never use it again because the muther-focker freakin' BROKE just minutes before her guests walked through the front door!! Yes, my friends, the bowl was filled with a yummy mix of Prosecco, Grand Marnier, fresh orange juice and sugar, when the side of it cracked off as the Zadge ~~tried to shove~~ gently placed the ice ring inside the bowl!

Babe and the Zadge simultaneously gasped! Yes, a piece of glass fell inside the punch. The Zadge briefly dropped her resolve to stop using the F-bomb, and let loose with a long string of F-bombs.

"What the F-bomb am I F-bomb going to do now, goddammit, F-bomb F-bomb?" the Zadge asked. Babe, being the Super Party Wingman that she is said, "Do you want me to go out and get another punch bowl?" The Zadge replied, "F-bomb no, we don't have F-bomb time!"

"Do you think I should just throw it all out?" the Zadge inquired of her wingman. Babe replied that she thinks that the glass broke off in just two pieces and she held up the piece on the countertop. The Zadge plopped her hand into the punch bowl and pulled out one big piece of glass. Babe and Zadge held the pieces together and concluded that in fact there were only two pieces of glass and that there was none left in the F-bomb punch.

"Uh, you might not want to mention this whole broken glass thing in the punch to your guests," Babe wisely suggested to the Zadge.

Praying that none of her invited guests were the losers who show up on time to a party, the Zadge frantically ran around her kitchen looking for a punch bowl substitute. Despite the hoards of beautiful hand-painted Italian dinnerware that the Zadge has collected over the years, she has collected zero punch bowls and one measly pitcher: a plastic Rubbermaid pitcher she bought at the grocery store about 20 years ago that still sports the paper Rubbermaid label on it. "Shit, shit, shit, this is a piece of crap!" the Zadge bemoaned. Babe the Wingman offered to try and scrub off the ugly label. "F-bomb it," the Zadge said, "I'll just channel Martha and wrap this table runner around it!"

Aren't you all just dying to come to the Zadge's house and ~~risk your life~~ taste this punch?

Well, her brave friends showed and downed the punch with nary a punctured artery. Like the Hazz:

See, the glassy-punch gives a girl quite a glow!

The little people at the party spent the whole time hunting for Tulip:

The Zadge's secretary at the Top Secret Day Job even showed up, which means that the Zadge probably isn't really a mean boss:

And the Zadge's boss and her husband showed up too:

Here's the only shot of the Zadge sporting her Umphf:

It's probably a little blurry because the person who took the photo was choking down a shard of glass in her punch.

The Zadge's real estate agent who helped her find Old Vicky showed up too:

She hadn't seen the house since the Zadge bought it a year ago and couldn't get over the transformation. "Remember the blood?!" she said.

The Zadge's guests were ridiculously generous and brought her so much loot that she is going to have to host another party next week to use up all the wine and baked goodies!

No, the Crush did not show, but the Zadge had a good time anyway. And the best thing she got out of the party, apart from good memories, is this awesome magnet her secretary gave her because she said it looked just like the Zadge:

Monday Musings

2010-12-20T20:00:00.001-07:00

1. I must say, you guys have great taste: The Umphf was the Zadge's pick!

And she sported them at her par-tay last night with lots of umphf.

2. Speaking of the par-tay, details and photos are forthcoming. There will be no photo of the Crush because the Crush was a no-show. Sigh.

3. But on a positive note, the Gentle Vet attended the Zadge's fete. In addition to being a miracle-worker with the needles, she is now dabbling in matchmaking and has a tall, cute friend who she soon will be introducing to our intrepid spinster. And he's not a 75-year old ice dancer.

4. I've decided no stenciled numbers on the stairs. They are nude for now, but likely will be covered in a runner within a few months. Bye-bye dog-free zone.

5. Is there anyone on the planet who would still pay good money to see Tom "I'm a Scientologic Freak" Cruise in a movie?

6. Now listen carefully to me on this one. If you do not currently own a pair of these:

run, run to your computer, get online and get yourself a pair. These are the "Groove" pants from Lululemon and they are hands down the best thing that will ever grace your fanny. Better than Daniel Craig's manly caress. They have achieved cult status because they make everyone look like they have Gisele Bundchon's bunky. Sure, they cost $98. Except if you are the Zadge and you stumble unknowingly into the Friends and Family night at the local store and get Gisele's butt for 30% off.

7. Why does no one blink an eye at laws requiring everyone to have car insurance but lose their ~~crazy Fox News watching~~ minds at requiring everyone to have body/health insurance?

8. The Zadge is looking for some new, interesting blogs to read. You probably have figured out what the Zadge likes (good humor, photography, good writing, cooking, pets, really shallow celebrity stuff, interior design, and working out) and what she doesn't (anyone who thinks Sarah Palin is smart, NASCAR, "crafty" things, and really not so much the traditional "mommy bloggers" - no offense to them as I'm sure they aren't into my middle-aged single dramas either). Got any good recommendations?

9. The Zadge is reading "French Women Don't Get Fat" and she likes the explanation: eat anything you want, just in small portions, drink wine at lunch and dinner, and walk.

10. The Zadge has made a resolution to stop dropping the F-bomb like she is a drunken sailor. She blames the Top Secret Day Job for desensitizing her to its negative impact in some more polite and civilized circles. She has been trying to replace it with "Fudge!" instead. She has been successful for a full three days now. Although she thinks the F-bomb is actually a fabulous cuss word.

Saturday Sayin's

2010-12-18T21:35:00.000-07:00

Bootaholism

2010-12-17T20:50:00.000-07:00

I blogged earlier in the week about getting Old Vicky dressed for the holiday party I'm throwing on Sunday. Well, our intrepid heroine needs to get dressed for the party too!

To that end, the Zadge has been shopping for boots. In fact, she's become something of a fall-down bootaholic. Thanks to Zappos, she never has to go without a fix!

I had decided that, for the party, I wanted to wear a pair of tall black boots with leggings and a swingy cashmere cardigan, some neck bling and a glass or ~~four~~ two of holiday cheer. You may remember I asked Santa to bring me Frye's Paige boot. Yeah, well, the Zadge is going to have to FedEx a P.S. to Santa cancelling that request, because she found the boots at the local mall, tried them on, and they were too big in the calf. Despite her Amazon stature, the Zadge sports very narrow calves, so that 80% of boots on the market make her look like she is wearing potato sacks below her knees.

So we move on to Plan B. The Zadge orders three boots off of Zappos from Aquatalia, an Italian boot maker that specializes in high quality all-weather boots with narrow calves! The contenders arrive over night - free shipping!

Party Boot Contender #1, "The Umphf":

A black suede riding boot, with cool buckles on the ankle and an elastic back that actually fits the Zadge's calves.

Party Boot Contender # 2, "The Leo":

A black suede tall, fur lined boot with a wedge heel. And you can fold down the top to show a fur cuff:

(Yes, that is white dog hair you see all over all of the suede boots, even though the boots are upstairs, where neither of the Zadge's dogs have ever been.)

Party Boot Contender #3, "The Zeal":

Also a black suede wedge like The Leo, but with a shorter shaft, a smaller, suede-covered wedge, black fur edging the boot, but not lining it like The Leo.

The Zadge pranced and preened in front of the mirror, demo-ing each contender. She imagined which one The Crush-who-she-invited-to-the-party-who-may-or-may-not-attend would think was hotter. She contemplated which one she would wear the most. She thought about the cost of each and cringed.

She decided that she loved them all, and that if she was a Real Housewife of Beverly Hills, she would just keep them all, so that she could wear a different pair to each of her various plastic surgeries. But then the Zadge realized she wasn't rich, plastic or in Beverly Hills, so she put two of the contenders back in the box and shipped them back (free!) to her ~~drug dealer~~ Zappos.

So guess which boots were made for walkin' for Sunday's holiday party?

Hot Lips

2010-12-15T19:46:00.000-07:00

Guess who loves the new heated floor in the bathroom even more than the Zadge?

Pre-Party Planning

2010-12-13T22:56:00.002-07:00

The Zadge is having a party. No, not the usual madness that she hosts in her brain every day - she's actually hosting a holiday open house at Old Vicky next Sunday from 3 p.m. to 7 p.m.

Back in her younger days in D.C., the Zadge threw a lot of semi-wild late night parties in the Little Yellow House. And it took a lot of planning, time and money to pull them off. But now the Zadge is older, in a new city, and swamped at work. So she thought that an open house would be the least stressful way to entertain this year.

By the way, is "holiday open house" only an east coast phrase? Because when you tell people here in Colorado you are hosting a Christmas open house they gasp, and say, my god, you just bought that house and put so much work into it!

Of course, if one is hosting a holiday party, one must decorate one's house. Which one did last weekend, even though one was bed-ridden most of the weekend with a nice mix of tuberculous/whooping cough/black plague. I zadge you not.

Anyhoo, between the hacking and the sneezing and the snotting and the moaning to myself, I was able to get Old Vicky at least a little dressed for her impending fete. I stumbled out into the public domain, bought a tree, dragged it into the house, got it upright and straight, then decorated it, while only losing one lung to a psychotic coughing attack:

Now, to be totally honest, in years past, the Zadge has had some utter meltdowns when dealing with the aforementioned Christmas Tree. Hauling that sucker from the car, into the house, into the tree stand, screwing it in straight, getting it to stand steady, all of these things make the Zadge have one of her very infrequent, crying "God dammit, I need a f#*king husband, dammit, mother focker, baby f#*king jesus mother focker of focking bethlehem carpenter dude" moments.

So take that and the black plague, and the Zadge was not looking forward to getting the tree. But then she found out about the best invention ON THE PLANET!!!!

This, my friends, is the most amazing, life-altering gizmo ever! I'm at the tree nursery, checking out these beautiful, sweet-smelling trees when I see these couples (because of course I was the only singleton buying a tree!) carrying around this weird metal thing. I finally asked one of the couples what it was, hoping that they would say, "Hey, buy this, and you'll suddenly be married to the man of your dreams!"

Ok, so they didn't say that. But they did say the next best thing, which was, buy this and you'll never have the Great Tree Meltdown. And they were right!!! You just buy this thing-a-ma-bobby at the nursery, they stick it in your tree and get your tree straight, they throw it in the back of your SUV, you pull it out at home, drag it up the walkway into the living room, pull it up and there it is: straight, solid, without any freakin' screws, and done!

I don't know what you call it. Nor did anyone there. It cost $49 and you bring it back every year and they skewer your tree with it for free. Frankly, I would have paid $500 to be done with the getting-the-tree-up-and-straight-angst!

So once the Black Plaguer gets the tree up and straight, I move on to the easy decorations, like putting garland on the stair railing and putting lights, fresh greens and stocking on the mantel:

Aren't these personalized stockings from Ballard Designs just the bomb?

Then in the dining room, I put up this totally cheesy-retro 70s Table Tree of silver and blue.

Can't you just hear the Bee Gees in the background?

Then I put some fake candles in the windows, lit some pine-scented candles and got down to the business of decorating the tree. The Zadge usually likes the traditional, multi-colored tree. But for some reason this year, I got a bee in my ~~bonnet~~ baseball cap that I wanted a blue tree.

So that's what I did: a tree with blue and white lights, and silver and blue/green ornaments:

In addition to the beautiful glass ornaments, I threw in some cheap Target humor, like this blue "popsicle" ornament:

Tulip was very interested in what was going on during the tree-decorating-bonanza:

After all the blue and silver was done, I decided the tree needed some "pop." So I added a few purple elements:

And then I decided to ditch the $60 silver "jingle bell" garland from Crate n Barrel for a $6.00 roll of silver ribbon, and I think it turned out okay:

So all and all, through my Nyquil-saturated eye, I'm happy with my experimental tree. But then again, maybe I love the blue/silver/a-bit-of-purple tree because of my favorite ornament on there, Baby Shone:

A letter to Mr. Kringle

2010-12-10T19:35:00.000-07:00

December 10, 2010

Santa Claus

The North Pole

Re: The Zadge's Christmas List

Dear Santa:

Yo, what's up Chubs? How's that whole Christmas Biz going? You can put the bag of coal down - I've been a good girl this year. Well, except for that whole vomiting tequila residuals out of a cab window onto the streets of Mexico thing. Anyhoo, I thought you'd appreciate some ideas for my gifts this year. I know you and the elves are super busy so I've kept the gifts pretty modest:

A tall, super cute, funny, loyal, kind, wicked smart, athletic, animal-loving, carpenter/millionaire boyfriend.
A cure for Harry's inexplicable "spastic colon."
A new rug. (See # 2)
Another year of health for The Shone.
Size 9 black Frye "Paige" boots.
Could you get rid of Sarah Palin, too?
The winning Powerball ticket, so I can chuck the Top Secret Day Job and just photograph and write and decorate and cook all day. (You may be able to skip this one if you bring me #1)
If you just can't find #1 (lord knows I haven't been able to), could you please please bring me Daniel Craig, Keith Urban, Denzel, or Liam Neeson, even if it's just for a night?
A new yoga mat - someone ate the corner of mine.
Peace, Love and Happiness for all of my peeps on the Interwebs.

So that's it. Not much, I know, but I'm really just a simple girl.

All the best to you and the Missus,
Zadge

P.S. Harry told me to tell you to tell Rudolph that he's looking forward to romping around in the snow with him while you load all my loot under the tree.

After a long day at work....

2010-12-08T19:11:00.000-07:00

Somehow, wilting Tulips look much better than a wilting Zadge.

The Zadge and the Marsupial

2010-12-06T19:21:00.000-07:00

We haven't heard much about the Zadge's dating adventures lately, have we? Perhaps because the only "adventure" the Zadge is having in the dating wars is combing through the ridiculous e-mails she receives from potential suitors on the awful dating site, Match.com.

Like this one she received today (my comments are in red):

"WOW! You are magnificent. Ok, so this is starting out pretty good!

My kind of gal. Hmm, not crazy about men who refer to me as a 'gal.' Very Pretty, Very Feminine, Tall and Slender figure, Loves dogs, and was raised in my old stomping grounds, I spend 7 wonderful and very happy years in Washington DC. Too many grammar and typo errors to ignore. Perhaps English is not your native language, slim? I had an apartment on Connecticut Ave. not rar (another typo) from the Cherry Creek Ice Palace. Where? I lived in D.C. for 37 years and never heard of that. It was there in Washington that I had many self-esteem enhancing experiences that began to loosen me up from a deep and painful shyness. Before my life in DC, I believed I was ugly and stupid. Oh. My. God. With. The. Emotional. Overshare. You don't have a chance with the Zadge, buddy. I was 17 years old and a seaman in the U.S.Navy. "Seaman" - not a wise choice of words in a dating e-mail. I was assigned to the U.S. Naval Intelligence headquarters and trained in the Russian Language in preparation for joining the Navy's secret code breaking team. For some reason, Russian came easily to me. I was blessed with a gift for languages and with exceptional athletic talent. Apparently the gift didn't include our own English language. As a member of the Washington Figure Skating Club, I won Bronze and Silver Medals in Ice Dancing. Are you under the impression that this is a gay dating site? And what happened to the spy gig? Those years in DC laid the groundwork for a rich, varied, wonderful and successful life. After a two-year tour of 77 cities in 3 countries as a featured skater in Holiday-On-Ice, I came to Colorado Springs to spend the summer creating new choreography with the top coach in the world to take on my next tour, this time with Ice Follies. I never left. I loved it here in Colorado. I stayed and went to college and glad I did. I guess you didn't study grammar at said college.

We have a great deal in common. Ice Dancing, Russian, and bad grammar are not in my top ten faves. So far, I have never met a dog person who wasn't a pleasire Oops! Guess the ole spell check wasn't working! to know. Genuine dog lovers are typically warm, nurturing and empathic. You mean like Michael Vick? I love my granddog intensely. He is a handsome, highly intelligent, and huge lapdog. That big guy, a Dobermann Pincher named Puppers, climbs up in my lap if I sit down and try to watch TV. It's good I don't care for TV. There is, however one program, "Dancing With The Stars" that I won't miss. How many times can I say Oh. My. God in one e-mail? It takes me back to my Ice Dancing competitions. Can we chat? I want to get to know you." As Mick Jagger says, "You can't always get what you want."

Then I glanced at his photo and little Match.com blurb (Click on it to see it larger):

Baby Jesus of Bethlehem! I AM INTELLIGENT AND HIGHLY EDUCATED BUT DON'T DEMAND THE SAME OF MY SEXUAL PARTNER??? You only want FEMININE WOMEN WHO KEEP THEMSELVES VERY ATTRACTIVE AND CAN STILL BE SEXUALLY INTIMATE??

Is that because you are old enough to be my freakin' father, you perv?!

I was so grossed out by this Sexed Up Ice Dancing Grandpa that I forwarded it on to The Kaiser, a fellow veteran of the online dating wars, for a laugh. The Kaiser replied that he knew the guy!

And yes, friends, that's when I realized that Captain Kangaroo was trying to get with our Zadge:

Bob Keeshan aka Capt. Kangaroo

Bye-bye Captain K! The Zadge is off to a convent!

Saturday Sayin's

2010-12-04T22:37:00.000-07:00

And the Gold Medal goes to.....

2010-12-03T18:31:00.000-07:00

The Zadge got a letter today from her vet, congratulating her on reaching "Gold Status."

In other words, "Thank you Zadge for spending so many thousands and thousands of dollars this year in the care of your cancer-fighting Superstar and his diarrhea-plagued little bro - you are single handedly keeping us in business!"

Well, the Shone is the one who should be congratulated: he had his three-month cancer checkup today and is officially cancer-free!!

What a great way to start the weekend!

Taking the Gelatinous Muffin Top to new lows

2010-12-01T19:17:00.000-07:00

The dreaded GMT can cause women to do many things. Stress. Diet. Exercise.

But how about shoplift?

Meet the lovely Ailene and Shmeco ('Shmeco'??):

These beauts were arrested after they were caught shoplifting from a TJ Maxx in Oklahoma - by hiding the stolen clothes in between their rolls of fat! Including four pair of boots and three pairs of jeans!

Call me crazy, but when it's gotten to the point that you can wear a pair of boots on your boobs, it may be time to hit the gym.

Highlights of the Zadge's Thanksgiving

2010-11-29T20:34:00.000-07:00

I could write an entire post about the utterly delusional nut job I ~~almost killed~~ had as a seat mate on my three hour flight from Denver to the east coast, but I don't really remember any of the specifics because I was forced to start drinking an hour into the flight because I just couldn't stand to hear her insane ramblings sober. I do have a vague memory of telling her, "Uh, we don't really use that phrase much since that whole 9/11 thing," when she started screaming on our calm descent into the airport, "We're going down! We're going down!"

So instead, I thought I'd share the happier highlights of my Thanksgiving trip that don't involve homicidal thoughts and ~~copious amounts of booze~~ yoga breathing.

Highlight Number One: Family Doggies

Meet the only girl in the family bigger than the Zadge:

Lucy, the youngest of the Sista's three dogs, is a Great Dane/Mastiff mix. She just turned one and she is already taller than our 5'10 heroine (we know this because, upon the Zadge's entry into the Sista's house, little Lucy promptly stood on her hind legs and put her front paws on the Zadge's shoulders!)

And she even weighs more than the Zadge with her GMT! Lucy is the Zadge's newest BFF:

Then there was sweet, sweet BearBear, the Sista's "Shone:"

BearBear is 13 years old and like his cuz The Shone, is the sweet, regal, best-dog-on-the-planet-who-everyone-loves-type-of-dude who has escaped death about five times so far. The Zadge loved lying on top of him giving him huge hugs.

Then there was Peanut, the Sista's sweet female "Harry:"

But mon dieu, the breath on this 'nut! (The Fin, in his "elmo schoos," didn't seem to mind!)

Highlight Number Two: The Zadge's Second Shooter

The Zadge's nephew has always had quite an eye and has assisted the Zadge at all of the family gatherings by running around taking pictures, proudly saying, "Got it" after every shot. She gave him her point and shoot to help her document the day:

Highlight Number Three: Thanksgiving Dinner

Loved, loved being with my family:

Yeah, that's everyone other than my Second Shooter and the Sista's Man trying to avoid having their photo taken. And Moomskers, per usual, cooked up a fantabuloso meal:

Highlight Number Four: the iPad

The Zadge has been totally grooving on her iPad since she got it a few months ago, but it was a big hit with the little people at Thanksgiving:

Highlight Number Five: Seeing all the nephews interact

Baby Fin just couldn't get enough of his silly 11-year old cousin:

and he loved providing the post-dinner entertainment with his 13-year old cousin:

Highlight Number Six: THE FIN!!!!

Do you like his holiday smoking jacket?

The patches come in handy for a guy who always has his elbows on a table playing with his cars/trucks/trains.

He thinks his aunt is just a riot.

And he can tell that she thinks he is the cutest thing she has ever seen.

The Fin practiced his "Hi, I'm a Ralph Lauren model" pose.

But Aunt Zadge, I'm not just a bunch of blond curly cuteness - I have a brain, you know.

I know you do, Baby Genius, but Baby Jesus of Bethlehem, you are the cutest little curly top the Zadge has ever seen!

Big Night out on the town with Little Big Town

2010-11-24T16:41:00.000-07:00

The Zadge is a little bit country and a little bit rock and roll. So is her buddy PugMama. So we took the country in ourselves out last Saturday night to the Ogden Theatre in Denver to hear a little country music:

The opening act was some dude neither of us had ever heard of named Randy Montana:

But he had a great voice and sure was cute. I think PugMama was officially "in crush."

Then came the main act, Little Big Town:

For those of you saying, "Yuck, country music!" -- you know who you are Babe the Builder and Little Bro -- I say, you've got to hear them. This quartet rocks! They are really more pop/rockabilly than country. Despite PugMama's hesitation, the Zadge pulled her into the mosh pit. The Zadge likes to be right in the action:

We were only a few feet away from the stage. Of course, even if you were in the back you couldn't miss Kimberly's big blond 'do:

The Baby Goosed Zadge had hair envy. And short leather dress envy. And ankle boot envy:

In fact, the Zadge had overall rockstar envy and tried to convince PugMama that they should ditch their day jobs and start a band. PugMama was kind when she told the Zadge that they had absolutely no talent whatsoever and were middle-aged.

Sort of like these two wasted middle-agers who stood right in front of the Zadge's face in the mosh pit for most of the night tonsil-surfing:

The drunk chick, almost 50 years old and barely vertical, didn't even notice that the Zadge stuck her camera right in her messy-ass face and snapped away:

PugMama and I were taking bets on whether she would follow over or vomit first:

But even the drunken old people couldn't ruin our good time with Little Big Town. I was even able to film the closing number, their #1 hit "Boondocks." Enjoy!

Monday Musings

2010-11-22T21:29:00.003-07:00

ses4wwwwwwwww23.
That's what happens when Harry lies on the couch next to you while you blog.
Well, that, and some really smelly things that I won't go into in case you are eating or don't have dogs, like those of us who do who are unfortunately nonplussed by the stanks that come with them.
The Zadge doesn't understand all the fuss about the new screening procedures at the airport. I'm flying out tomorrow and I'm actually looking forward to it. Hey, the intrusive pat down is going to be the most action I've had in awhile.
Is there anyone out there who can fold the bottom bed sheet in a neat square? I bet even Martha Stewart can't do it.
The Zadge refuses to spend any of her time reading bad books. But she has no problem putting down her Pulitzer Prize winning novel to watch a gripping hour of the train wreck that is "The Real Housewives" series. Yeah, she's cultured that way.
And by "her Pulitzer Prize winning novel," please don't be fooled into thinking the Zadge won the Pulitzer. Although she did actually set a school record in sixth grade on Field Day for "Softball Throw for Distance." How many Pulitzer winners can claim that?
Does anyone know of a 12-step program for women addicted to buying boots?
Have you seen that new show "Blue Bloods" on CBS? I want to set Moomksers up with Tom Selleck, who is only a couple of years younger. They'd make a great couple and could double date with the Zadge and her boyfriend Daniel Craig.
And speaking of Moomskers, aka "Mary" in real life, The Beatles "Let It Be" has always been one of my favorite songs of all time because of this line: "When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me, speaking words of wisdom." How thankful am I to fly home to see my Mother Mary for Thanksgiving?!

Saturday Sayin's

2010-11-20T23:09:00.000-07:00

Minimizing the Deadly Gelationous Muffin Top

2010-11-19T23:39:00.000-07:00

Thanksgiving and Christmas are approaching and we all know what that means: eating, drinking, more eating, office parties, cookies, nog, pies, drinking, and more eating. And a lot more calories than usual, at least for those of you who are not gluttonous booze-hounds 365 days a year.

Ho, ho, ho, it's the Gelatinous Muffin Top's favorite time of year!

That's why the Zadge found this article in the Denver Post interesting - it describes how some people are using a home food delivery service to gear up for the holidays. The company will deliver to your home every day three freshly cooked, low calorie, nutritionally-balanced, gourmet meals (and a snack), modeled after the "Zone Diet." The article described how people were using the system for a few weeks before the holidays to give them "wiggle room" ~~in their jeans~~ during the holidays. They also mentioned that busy professionals used the company to make sure they were eating healthy on little time.

The Zadge, of late, has been a very ~~Cranky McCrankster~~ busy professional, with little time to grocery shop or cook. And she's been so ~~cranky~~ tired, that no one wants to go out to eat with her. And she's been living in fear of her evil GMT raising its ugly head again during the holidays -- Moomskers is one damn good cook and the Zadge intends to dig into all of Moomskers' good Thanksgiving stuff next week! So, she decided to fork over the $29 a day for delivery of healthy and GMT-fighting meals to her house for a week.

As promised, each morning, the Zadge would open her door to find that Zone Denver had left a hermetically sealed, chilled, black bag containing that day's meals. Meals over the week included a lunch of Steak Fajita with Mixed Greens Salad and Bleu Cheese Dressing:

... and a dinner of Ground Turkey Bolognese with Whole Wheat Penne Pasta and fresh roasted vegetables:

and Pork Loin with Garlic and Herbs with Roasted Beets and Squash:

The meals came in these little plastic trays:

... but the Pan Roasted Halibut with Fresh Herbs, Lemon and Dill and Steamed Vegetables seemed to taste much better when I put it on a plate.

Ok, so here's the thing.

The meals were tasty. And for a busy professional ~~Crank~~, they were super convenient and not really that expensive, when you consider that the Zadge's daily lunch from the organic salad joint near her office costs almost $10. They forced the Zadge to eat a much wider range of foods for dinner than the cheese and crackers she normally sports after a long day at the office. Plus, the Zadge thinks she lost some weight but can't bear to put herself on a scale to confirm.

But - Baby Jesus of Bethlehem -- the portions were teeney-tiny-small. I'm talking small like, see those plates above? Those are salad plates not dinner plates. I'm talking small like, put a deck of cards on top of those plates and you've got a poker game not a meal. I'm talking small like, when I first opened the secret black bag I thought they sent only the snacks. Count the penne in the pasta dish - I did - there were SEVEN FREAKIN' PENNES!! That's three pennes short of a dime for godsake!

After a week of the Zone Denver meals, the Zadge got her normal $10 salad at work today and was surprised to find that she could only finish about half of it before she was full.

So what's the conclusion here?

First, it's clear that the Zadge's normal portion size at a meal is apparently fit for a Sumo wrestler. I guess that would explain the frequent appearance of the GMT. That, or the nightly vodka tonics, also sized for a Sumo wrestler.

Second, by Day 5 of the Zone Diet, what with all that protein and fresh veggie thing going on, the Zadge really wasn't hungry at all and wasn't thinking about food at all. Perhaps because she was too busy planning her own "Jet Blue Flight Attendant Exit" from the Top Secret Day Job. Yeah, she seriously was. Then she talked herself off the crazy Jet Blue ledge, and realized it probably was all hormonal.

Or maybe she was just f*&king hungry?

Bad Humour

2010-11-17T19:11:00.000-07:00

The Zadge was planning on posting about her latest Gelatinous Muffin Top-fighting discovery, but she's too pissed off (cause: Top Secret Day Job), cranky (cause: Top Secret Day Job/possible perimenopausal symptom), annoyed (cause: enough with the Prince William/Kate engagement coverage for god's sake), exasperated (cause: Harry destroyed the Zadge's new fur scarf 5 minutes after she walked in the door tonight), and hungry to do so.

So tonight, you get no real blog post and I get a real big Vodka Tonic.

Cheers.

Those old cows knew trouble was coming before we did.

2010-11-15T19:10:00.000-07:00

Looking for a good book? Read this:

Jeannette Walls, of "The Glass Castle" fame, tells the mildly-fictionalized story of her feisty, headstrong grandmother, Lily. Lily is the Zadge's kind of gal! This is "Little House on the Prairie" for us adults.

Trust me, you'll love it.

Saturday Sayin's

2010-11-13T18:32:00.000-07:00

The Zadge got some cock today.

2010-11-11T17:20:00.001-07:00

Now that I've gotten your attention, let's discuss the Zadge's day off, thanks to our wonderful veterans. Did she spend it shopping, going to a movie or other such fun stuff?

No, she spent the day getting tortured by medical professionals.

Do you see this?

This looks like the two huge needles that were shoved into the Zadge's knees by her orthopedic surgeon this afternoon. Except mine didn't have hundred dollar bills rolled up inside. (Sorry, not a lot of scary syringe photos on the web!). They were filled with this:

Yes, Rooster Comb, made into an injectable form called Synvisc. It's designed to ease the pain of osteoarthritis in your knees, which results from the fact that you no longer have any cartilage left in your knees and your bones are rubbing on top of each other, which was caused by running every day for 30 years and being a completely compulsive over-exerciser, including many twice a day workouts. Not that I'm singling anyone out in particular. Do you think I'll wake up tomorrow morning and cry, "Cock-a-doodle-do!"

After that happy experience, the Zadge gingerly walked back to her car and had to perform a yoga move to get into it, since she couldn't bend one of her knees at all it was so swollen with cock. Ahem. She then drove to her next torture session, with her dermatologist.

See, the Zadge found this little, weird looking, fast growing growth on her chest last week. No, it wasn't one of her breasts. Of course, she had herself convinced that it was cancer. Her family history is ripe with melanomas, and basal cells, and blond hair, and freckles, and wrinkles. And the Zadge has lived a wild and crazy past in the sun. Hours and hours spent in the sun without any sunscreen. Swimming, tennis, softball, track and basketball as a kid. Running, biking, swimming, golf, and tennis as an adult. It was only a matter of time.

But the cancer turned out only to be something called an actinic keratosis, which sounds like I have bad breath, but really is just a "precancerous" growth. But the doc said I should have it burned off so that it doesn't turn into the Big C. So she burned me. With a big smoking jug of really cold stuff.

So after all that torture, the Zadge, with her swollen rooster knees and her red scabby burned chest, is treating herself tonight to a nice relaxing dinner with Babe the Builder.

But I think there is a lesson here: all that healthy exercise is really bad for you!

Monday Musings

2010-11-08T19:57:00.000-07:00

The Zadge loves, loves listening to big, Baptist choirs and would love to join one. Except she's not black, Baptist or able to carry a note.
The Zadge misnamed Harry. He should have been called "Marley." Or "G.I. Joe" for his frequent gastrointestinal distress.
Long toenails utterly gross me out.
The Zadge's sister and mother refuse to download Skype, thereby depriving The Zadge of seeing her adorable nephews live. Please rally them on her behalf.
PLEASE LET ME SEE MY BEAUTIFUL AUNT ON SKYPE!
First, Nancy Pelosi's startled, plastic-surgeried visage, now John "It's Bay-ner not Boner" Boehner's orange face. The Speakers of the House are taking "ugly politics" to a new level.
Remember the Towel-Clad Comatose Puppy Canadian? Ugh, I'm still suffering from PTSD. Anyway, out of the blue, he "poked" me on Facebook yesterday. And that is as close as he will ever get to poking me.
The Zadge is addicted to Bravo's "The Real Plastic Housewives of Beverly Hills." Yes, she is shallow. But if anyone is considering getting a little nip or tuck done, just check out these waxy, bloated-face gals. One of them literally gets blinded by her flapping lips when a strong wind blows.
Edison Pena, one of the Chilean miners rescued just a few weeks ago from months spent in a hole two miles under the Earth, completed the freakin' New York Marathon yesterday:

Baby Jesus of Bethlehem, can you say Inspirational?
Travel & Leisure just released their list of the top ten cities with the most and least attractive people. Denver was ranked #9 for the city with the most attractive people, while the Zadge's former hometown, Washington, D.C., was ranked #6 on the top ten cities of unattractive people. The Zadge didn't realize how much better looking she got when she moved here two years ago!
And just to end on my favorite note, here's a photo of four-month old Baby Shone from 13 years ago:

Saturday Sayin's

2010-11-06T19:24:00.000-06:00

Read this blog...

2010-11-04T18:16:00.000-06:00

No, not mine. Well, wait, yes, please continue to read mine, but also check out this one because this chick is funny as sheeat.

And as a single chick with no (human) kids, I particularly chuckled at this post of hers.

Enjoy.

Stairway to Heaven?

2010-11-03T19:13:00.002-06:00

I bet you thought the Zadge was done with all her construction projects, didn't you? She's never done!

When the Zadge moved into Old Vicky exactly one year ago, this is what the stairs looked like:

Sorry for the blur. I can't hold the camera steady when I'm retching in the face of awful interior design. The stairs, as well as the whole second floor, were covered in dirty, ugly wall-to-wall carpeting. Which the Zadge promptly ripped out. She had hardwood floors installed upstairs, but was at a loss about what to do with what was under the carpet on the stairs.

See, underneath was hardwood stairs. Hardwood stairs that were falling apart:

They were bouncy, marred with paint stains, unsupported and had pulled away from the wall. I mean, they are 114 years old after all. Think how much we'll be leaning and falling apart when we hit 114.

I brought in a stair restoration specialist. He said there was no solution except to rip them out and build a complete new set. To the tune of $3700.

But then I met Babe the Builder and, genius that she is, Babe came up with a plan to salvage Old Vicky's steps. She shored them up, added a "skirt" to the side to cover the gaps, and had her painters do their magic on them. They finished yesterday:

Don't we love Babe?!

The Zadge decided to paint the banister a super glossy black and paint the risers and spindles glossy white. (And to all of you cringing that I painted natural wood - you know who you are little brother -- you should know that it was customary in 1896 when Old Vicky was born to paint wood trim!) I thought the shiny black would tie in nicely with the other black accents in an otherwise blue/green house. Like the kitchen door and windows:

And all the black and white photos I have scattered around the house:

Then there's the black chandelier in the dining room:

But now I've reached a small design impasse. My original plan was to put a nice runner down the middle of the stairs when they were done, maybe a sisal with black trim on either side. But ever since I moved in a year ago, I have been able to enjoy a completely dog free upstairs because Harry was so freaked out by the freaky stairs that he has never gone up them after the first day we moved in! And poor Shone hasn't been able to go up stairs for years now.

So, if I put in the runner, Harry will no longer be freaked out and will have free run of the upstairs, which is where I feed Tulip, which means Harry will eat all her food, and I will have dog hair in every inch of the house instead of just the first floor, and I will be sharing the bed. And not with a man.

Although frankly, I kind of miss the dogs sharing the bed with me. Damn, do I need to get a date soon or what?

So I've been contemplating another idea. And I really like it, but I know lots will think it is silly.

I want to stencil black numbers up the middle of the stairs! Kind of like this:

(Thanks to The Inspired Room for the photo.)

Here's another sample, although I'd use a more formal stencil:

(Thanks to Restyled Home for the photo.)

Here's the thing: Old Vicky is sort of an elegant old girl. Good bones, high ceilings. And the numbers idea is sort of whimsical and informal. But you know what? The Zadge thinks that everything in life, including homes, needs a little humor in it to be really alive.

What do you think?

Tulip Time!

2010-11-01T19:13:00.000-06:00

One Tulip -- $150 from the Humane Society:

200 tulip bulbs -- $110 from the local nursery:

Planting all 200 bulbs, including 25 "Elegant Ladies" -- two hours:

Catching the Elegant Lady Tulip in full sun-splendor -- Priceless!

Saturday Sayin's

2010-10-30T23:21:00.000-06:00

Sweat, Manners and The Stinkeye

2010-10-29T20:53:00.000-06:00

The Zadge hit the gym tonight in an effort to sweat out the ~~gelatinous muffin top~~ drama and stress of the past week at the Top Secret Day Job. She thought she would have a good hard workout that would leave her relaxed and primed for the weekend.

Too bad the annoying dipshit next to her on the elliptical machine didn't have the same plan.

See, The Zadge was happily sweating away on the elliptical with her headphones plugged into the TV, trying to Keep Up With ~~the bad plastic surgery had by~~ The Kardashians, when some little twit got on the elliptical next to The Zadge...yapping away on her cellphone.

Now, the Zadge's gym is a fairly swanky place that doesn't come cheap. And there is a "no cellphone" policy in the gym. For obvious reasons - so you are not paying good money to work out next to some dipshit yapping away to her dipshit friend about their dipshit weekend plans.

The Zadge first tried to turn up the volume on her TV to drown out the dipshitisms. No luck. Dipshits apparently think everyone is interested in hearing their inane conversation.

Then the Zadge tried The Stinkeye. Many of you know that The Zadge is quite accomplished at delivering The Stinkeye and rarely fails to bring the target of The Stinkeye to their knees. But the Dipshit, apparently sensing the sheer power of the Zadge Stinkeye, would only give an occasional sideway glance to the Zadge as she continued to yap away.

The Zadge sweated and fumed for another 15 minutes while the twit prattled on. Then one of the gym's personal trainers walked up to the weight machine in front of the row of ellipticals and The Zadge thought, "Oh, you are so busted now, Dipshit Twit." But Dipshit Twit cleverly turned her body so the trainer couldn't see her phone and stopped talking. The trainer didn't even look up.

Now The Zadge was pissed. She tried to channel the yogic breathing her teacher always talks about and silently hummed "Om." Yeah, that lasted 15 seconds. She tried a second and then a third attempt at The Stinkeye, to no avail. She whispered under her breath, "Twit, if you are able to yap on your phone for 30 minutes, you aren't working out hard enough."

After 30 minutes of listening to the TwitYap, The Zadge had had enough. She stepped off the elliptical, walked up to the front desk, and asked for the manager. She told the manager that some twit had been twittering away on her cellphone for 30 straight minutes. The manager was apologetic and said she would "take care of it."

The Zadge calmly walked back to her elliptical machine and resumed her workout next to the Dipshit Twit. A few moments later, the manager appeared and told the Dipshit Twit that there were no cellphones allowed in the gym. Dipshit, rather than actually hang up the damn phone, decided that she just had to keep talking to her fellow dipshit and got off the elliptical.

As Dipshit Twit started to walk away, she stopped and turned to The Zadge and said, "You could have said something to me!" The Zadge responded, "I shouldn't have to tell you Dipshit Twit. What, were you raised by wolves?"

Ok, so she really didn't say the Dipshit Twit part or the raised by wolves part. But she did say the rest and finally find the peace in her workout that she was looking for!

Blowing Off Steam

2010-10-27T18:03:00.000-06:00

Things at the Top Secret Day Job are exploding, Harry decided in the middle of the night to lay a big pile of runny poo on the rug formerly worth $6,000, construction is still going on in Old Vicky, and Charlie Sheen is naked and losing his mind.

What's a Zadge to do?

She's heading out with her San Francisco BFF, who is in town for just one night, to blow off some steam. And she will not be naked and destroying a hotel room while a terrified prostitute hides in the bathroom.

At least we hope not.

Monday Musings

2010-10-25T18:40:00.000-06:00

Honey Crisp apples are better than chocolate.
The Zadge wonders if there is anyone in the country who is actually influenced to change their vote from the gazibillion ranting political ads running non-stop on TV.
What if money was banned from all political campaigns, everyone had to vote based on a series of debates and all that saved money was spent to pay down our debt?
How is Ann Curry still employed?
Is 46 the magic age when you open a People/US Weekly/Star magazine at the nail salon and don't know who the f*#k any of the people in the magazine are?
Match.com is working out really well for The Zadge. If you consider one date, with a recovering alcoholic political ranter, and 50 winks from mustached serial killers, over the course of 5 months successful.
One of The Zadge's biggest driving pet peeves: people who think they need to swing the car right before they turn left. It's an axle people - it's not like a dog on a leash!
Brett Favre has now admitted to sending his skanky, sexually harassing voice mails to the boob-enhanced Jets girl he didn't know, but denies that he then sent - from the very same phone - the lovely photos of him spanking his monkey. Riiiighht.
We discussed yoga etiquette as it pertains to persistent farting - what about the girl next to you who picks her toes through class? Working on her Toe Chakra?
Finally, the drop dead gorgeous Halle Berry has a new boyfriend and he's one of The Zadge's old boyfriend's - Oliver Martinez!

Olivier and The Zadge were hot and heavy when his breakout movie Unfaithful with Diane Lane and Richard Gere came out. The Zadge loved practicing her french ~~kissing~~ with Olivier. But Daniel Craig came along and The Zadge had to let Olivier go. She's glad that Halle has picked him up now. Oh, and The Zadge also has the boots that Halle is wearing, but in brown. Gosh, we have so much in common.

Saturday Sayin's

2010-10-23T22:02:00.000-06:00

I know it's shocking, but every once in a while, The Zadge just doesn't have anything to say.

Hot Friday Night

2010-10-22T20:44:00.000-06:00

Is the Bathroom finished?!

2010-10-21T19:56:00.000-06:00

Yes.

And no.

Remember when I told you that the plumber had to order a special piece to raise the shower head high enough so our Amazonian heroine could shower properly? Well, Babe the Builder called this afternoon to say that the part was in, the shower head was installed and the bathroom was finally ready for The Zadge's first shower. She sounded tentative. She ended her message with, "Uh, let me know what you think."

The Zadge got home and ran upstairs to check out her long-awaited new bathroom. She was actually on the phone with Babe when she opened the bathroom door and saw the shower head. Dead silence. "Oh my god, it's really funny looking," I told Babe. Babe replied, "I know. I wasn't expecting it to look like that. In fact, I started laughing when I saw it."

So, Babe is hard at work exploring other options for the Amazon's shower head problem, but in the meantime, The Zadge took her first shower in her new bathroom tonight and she is thrilled.

Shall we?

Ah, but first, how about a look again at the heinous old bathroom:

Yuck. Yuck. Double yuck.

But ta-da! The new bathroom with the funny shower head thing-a-ma-bobby:

The Zadge loves pedestal sinks, so she bought the same Kohler Memoirs one that she put in her D.C. house when she renovated that bathroom. Oh, and The Zadge hates clogged toilets, so she bought the Toto Promenade with Super Human Flushing capacity:

The medicine cabinet and light fixtures (including one you can't see in this photo in the ceiling) are from Restoration Hardware:

I wiped all the blood off of the Tar-Jay cabinet I built myself last week:

Still need a window treatment. I feel a fabric frenzy coming on:

I love, love, love my tile. The tile in the shower is Ming Green Marble subway tiles from Ann Sacks:

And the tile on the floor is a Thassos Marble/Ming Green Dot basketweave:

Oh! And the floor is heated!

The Zadge got an extra long tub from Kohler because, well, she's extra long. And a built in nook for all those damn products that Lorenza accused her of using:

All of the faucets, shower head, and towel racks are uber-expensive Satin Nickel Kohler fixtures that The Zadge could never afford, except that her Beloved Babe gave them to her gratis. Thanks Babe!

I've already planned out my first extra long bubble bath in the extra long tub for tomorrow night, complete with a couple of magazines, a couple of candles and an extra big vodka tonic!

One of the downsides of being an Amazon

2010-10-20T21:53:00.000-06:00

Here's a picture of The Zadge's gorgeous new bathroom:

Oh, wait - those are her gorgeous dogs, not her gorgeous bathroom. Because said bathroom is still not finished!

But it will be tomorrow! See, because The Zadge is one tall glass of water (if you don't believe me, check out Friday Night Laughs), Babe the Builder had to order a special part to make the shower head higher so that The Zadge won't hit her noggin on the showerhead (and, ahem, any tall men who may be using please Baby Jesus of Bethlehem her shower in the future).

So tune in tomorrow for -- keep your fingers crossed -- the Big Bathroom Reveal.

Hot Saturday Night Date

2010-10-18T19:55:00.000-06:00

The Zadge spent Saturday night with two of her favorite cuties.

Oh no, I'm not talking about The Hazz and PugMama (also known as She Who Refuses To Be Photographed). They were at Old Vicky too, and I like them a whole lot, but they're not the ones who made my night.

No, I'm talking about these two cutie-patooties, The Baby Hazzes:

How cute are these little munchkins? And how much cuter were they when we went on a secret "hunt" for Tulip the Cat, pulling out a flashlight to search under all the beds in the house?

And what does it say about The Zadge that she'd rather spend her Saturday night with hairy critters and cute things under 3 feet tall who like to crawl under beds, than out looking for a man?

Oh, and by "hairy critters" I mean Jackson, Harry and Tulip not The Hazz and PugMama.

Saturday Sayin's

2010-10-16T19:52:00.000-06:00

Friday Night Laughs

2010-10-15T20:14:00.000-06:00

Today I was planning to post The Big Bathroom Reveal photos. But I'm not. Because apparently the new bathroom will never, ever be finished.

Unable to use her main bathroom for going on seven weeks now, and having yet another shit-tay day at the Top Secret Day Job, The Zadge needs ~~a stiff drink~~ some laughs. And she figures you do too. So she's pulled out some shots of the Young Zadge that she hopes will make you smile.

Check out poor Moomskers trying to corral the already "exuberant" three-year old Zadge:

Doesn't Moomskers look all Mad Men-ish?! And here's the young Zadge and her even younger Sis cooling off. Just like a lab puppy, one look at those feet and you could tell she was gonna be a tall one:

This was probably first or second grade. Not sure why the young Zadge's hair looks red but perhaps it's because she hadn't yet learned about professional highlights:

Here's the young Zadge on her sixth birthday with her first bicycle. Notice that her incredible growth spurt was going full throttle and she can fit an almost-adult-sized bike:

Here's our eight-year old heroine at her First Communion:

Little did she know then that that would be her only walk down a church aisle wearing all white!

A few months later, young Zadge got all hip and cut her hair into a shag:

She's had hair issues ever since.

Ok, moving on the really embarrassing photos. Here's our ridiculously tall sixth grader, sporting the Dorothy Hamill haircut of the day, some heinous plastic glasses and a hive-inducing 100% polyester uniform:

Oh, and some really pointy elbows and linguine legs.

But here's the winner of the day. Drumroll please. Here is our fashion icon on the first day of Sixth Grade, with her two younger siblings. Note that at this point, the Zadge was only a half inch shy of her current almost 5' 10" and that there is only a year between her and little Sis:

Really, does this one even need any commentary?

Shit happens.

2010-10-13T20:25:00.000-06:00

As I watched each miner getting pulled out of the Chilean hole-in-the-ground they've called home for the last 70 days, and saw them rejoice and embrace their loved ones, I teared up and no doubt had the same thought we've all had after watching such a moving scene.

Where did they poop?!

Speaking of poop, these are the running shoes The Zadge was wearing tonight when she took her angel and devil dogs for their evening walk:

Do you see the large clump of dog shit stuck to the bottom of The Zadge's left shoe?

Well, she didn't and proceeded to walk into her house, unleash the dogs, stroll through her living room, dining room, on into the kitchen, putz around there for a while, before walking back through all the aforementioned rooms, up the stairs and into her bedroom -- bedroom folks! -- where she went to undress for her post-workout shower, and it wasn't until then that she discovered the clump of dog shit on her shoe.

I imagine I won't be getting many requests to visit Old Vicky anytime soon.

Monday Musings

2010-10-11T21:15:00.001-06:00

1.   The Zadge would really like to enjoy the Monday Night Football game she is watching between the Vikings and the Jets but she can't get the disturbing image of Brett Favre's slightly odd-looking penis that looks like it's wearing an itty bitty skull cap out of her mind.

2.    If you don't know why The Zadge is talking about a famous quarterback's wanger, you need to read more news. Or watch this - but not at work!

3.    The Zadge would like to extend her thanks to Chris Columbus for almost discovering America. His near miss gave her a day off today. Grazie.

4.    The Zadge spent her day off shopping. The Zadge hates shopping, but desperately needed new work out clothes, a couple of tops and a $500 Silver Fox fur vest. Ok, so I didn't buy the fur vest. But I thought about it long and hard. Then I imagined the PETA bunch throwing red paint on me, and we all know red isn't my color, so I decided against it.

5.    But speaking of red, I did spot a pretty pair of red suede pumps that I briefly considered trying on - until I turned them over to see how much they cost and saw that they were called "The Palin." I did an air-puke and put them down.

6.    And can someone please tell retail workers to baby jesus of bethlehem STOP asking me at every turn, "Hi. Can I help you? Are you looking for something in particular?" Yes, as a matter of fact, I'm looking for all of you overly friendly, smiley, eager salespeople to leave me the fuck alone.

7.    The Zadge cut her shopping trip short ~~because being in a mall gives her hives~~ so that she could go home and deal with this:

This, my friends, is a mere 479 pieces that go together to make an armoire for The Zadge's new bathroom. Rather than shell out lots of cabbage to a skilled carpenter to make a bathroom storage cabinet, The Zadge hit a local, very high-end boutique called "Le Tar-Jhay" where she bought a do-it-yourself number.

Two hours and some blood later (yes, blood), The Zadge built herself this little number:

8. I thought I'd be able to show you the finished armoire in the finished bathroom, but alas, the big reveal will have to wait a few days as plumbers apparently only work one day every two weeks.

9. What's the proper etiquette when you are in a crowded yoga class and the woman on the mat a mere one inch in front of you farts through the whole class? When she's tooting away in Up Dog, you are are definitely not "breathing in.

10. And finally, after a day of shopping, blood, yogic farts and famous weird wangers, how nice is the first fire of the season?

Saturday Sayin's

2010-10-09T23:18:00.000-06:00

Watch what you wish for

2010-10-08T18:33:00.000-06:00

Do you remember The Zadge's cleaning lady who left The Zadge's belongings in wacky places? And The Zadge couldn't ask her where she put the [fill in the blank] because the only Spanish that The Zadge knows is "Hola Tequila"?

Well, she moved back to Guatemala so The Zadge had to find a new cleaner. The Hazz and Pugmama both use the same woman and both recommended her. Plus, she spoke English, which The Zadge thought would be a plus.

Yeah, if you like to understand your cleaning woman as she insults you.

Like yesterday morning, when Lorenza arrived at Old Vicky and said, "Every Thursday when I come and look at your house, I can't believe I was here just a week ago!"

Uh, excuse me? Are you calling me a pig? Have you noticed that the house is a damn construction zone, and that I have three critters dropping hair and dirt all over the place? And if my house was clean, why would I need your English-speaking ass?

Then she peeked into the almost-finished new bathroom. "Oh, it's beautiful. But will you have enough room for your stuff. [She pauses briefly here.] Ms. Zadge you really have a lot of stuff. Me, I just use a little eyeliner and that's it."

Hey, back off Lorenza - natural beauty doesn't come cheap, pain-free or naturally.

And then, as I was walking out the door to go to work, I heard her say under her breath, "These dogs are so spoiled."

So she speaks English and perhaps the truth, but I think I prefer the weekly hunt for my things!

Cattin' around

2010-10-06T20:16:00.000-06:00

I don't want to be catty, but guess which hussy slipped out of the house last night and didn't come home until this morning?

Oh, the walk of shame this morning.

A girl's gotta sleep off a night like that:

When I tried to ask her about it today, all she had to say was.......

Yowzzaaa!

Facebook: The Old Boyfriend Edition, Part II

2010-10-04T19:51:00.000-06:00

When we last left our intrepid Facebooker, she had just managed to shake off Stalker Ex ~~accurately~~ affectionately known as "The Blowfish." As I sat down to pen Part II of the edition, I realized there's a theme with my Facebook stalkers. And apparently, it involves girth.

Most recently, I was "friended" on Facebook by an old boyfriend named Jack. Short for "John." That's an important fact. Remember it for the reading comprehension quiz I'll be handing out at the end.

The Zadge refers to Jack as "The Golf Pro" because, well, he is one. The Zadge is so clever with her nicknames. The Zadge's family, however, refers to him as "The Load."

See, The Zadge dated The Load for a now-mind boggling three years in her late 20s/early 30s. I say "now" because if I were to go on one date with The Load today, there would not be a second, let alone 1000 more days together.

On the surface, The Load seemed like a promising match for the young Zadge. He was tall (well, tall enough at 6 feet), uber-athletic, had gone to Stanford (no, The Zadge did not date Tiger Woods), had a creative streak, and was very sweet and affectionate with the young Zadge. Oh, and he got her a really good set of golf clubs.

And boy did he love her cooking! So much so that he gained 30 pounds during the time we were together. Here's that girth thing again! You should have seen him at Moomskers' holiday dinners: he'd have several helpings, a couple of beers, then he'd actually excuse himself and go up to one of Moomskers' spare rooms and take a nap!

I know, I know, you're saying to yourself, "Goddamn, that Zadge is one superficial bee-otch. The guy gains a few pounds and she decides to slander him all over the interwebs." Well, slow down sally, there's a few things I've yet to mention about The Load.

Like the porn addiction.

And the alcoholism.

Oh, yeah, and how about the time, a few days before we were scheduled to leave on vacation to Bermuda, he stayed out all night because he was picking up some hussy in a bar, and then has to go to Bermuda by himself because The Zadge dumps his load-ass and then four months later he is marrying said hussy because he got her pregnant?

Now do you think I'm justified?

So that was 15 years ago, and basically, The Zadge has never given The Load another thought ever. So a few months ago, I got a friend request from said cheating-drinking-golfing-porning ex. Did I learn from The Blowfish? Apparently not, since I clicked "Accept" before I had time to think. Frankly, I just wanted to see how big he'd gotten.

Within minutes, I received a Facebook message from The Load, thanking me for accepting his request, profusely apologizing for "the way I treated you," telling me his marriage was ending (BIG SURPRISE there) and saying he wanted to talk to me. And then he commented, "I love that you named your dog Jackson."

I checked out his page - saw that he had two teenaged boys (one of whom was presumably conceived while he was dating me!) and that he was no bigger than the last time I'd seen him -- and promptly forgot about him all over again.

The occasional message would pop up in my inbox over the next few months, saying things like, "You look great!" I ignored them all.

Then I got this message from him last week: "I'd really like to talk to you.....Jackson."

Are you f*#king kidding me, Loado?! You think I named my beloved angel after YOU?! Are you still drunk? Do you know that on that odd occasion when someone calls the Shone "Jack," I immediately correct them and say, no, it's Jackson?!

That was it. I promptly hit the "Unfriend" button. It's one thing to cheat on me. It's a whole different ball of wax when you try to sully the name of my beloved angel!

Ba-Bye Loado!

Saturday Sayin's

2010-10-02T22:25:00.000-06:00

Facebook: The Old Boyfriend Edition, Part I

2010-10-01T19:26:00.000-06:00

In light of today's premiere of "The Social Network," the movie about the rich-as-shit dweeb who ~~stole~~ started Facebook, The Zadge thought she'd share her own Facebook story.

It's called "The Old Boyfriend Stalking Network."

You know how we've all heard about those women who reconnect with their long-lost loves on Facebook and end up marrying them after all these years? Yeah, that's not this story.

Shortly after The Zadge joined Facebook, she received a friend request from a guy she dated 15 years ago. In the Zadge's nickname world, his name was The Model. Because he was 6'2", gorgeous, had abs of steel and actually had been a model in New York before The Zadge started dating him in D.C. The Model and The Zadge dated on and off for several years but never really went anywhere because The Model was not all that into commitment at the time. She eventually lost track of him, and moved on to date numerous other non-model commitment phobes.

Flash forward 15 years. The Zadge gets a friend request from The Model. Curiosity overwhelms her and she accepts. His profile picture is two adorable blond children. Ok, so he apparently overcame that commitment problem. She pages through his Facebook page: he is married, lives in South Carolina and has two little kids. No pictures of him, no info about his job.

A few minutes after she accepts his request, The Zadge receives a Facebook message from The Model, "I have to talk to you . Call me."

Hmmmm, The Zadge's curiosity is killing her. She remembers his abs and she picks up the phone. Then she and The Model proceed to have a 90 minute phone conversation, in which he reveals that a) he is morbidly unhappy in his marriage and that his wife is an unmedicated Bipolar nut case, and b) he has been pining away for The Zadge, wants to move to Colorado to be with her, and even confesses his love for her.

Say wha???????

Ok, I admit, at this point, I began to cue the sappy music and started imagining that I was finally going to have some big romantic finale to my life of singledom. And it happened that the Top Secret Day Job required me to be in South Carolina in just a few months. So The Model and I decided that we would meet up for dinner when I was out there. I ended the call by saying, "Hey, send me some photos of yourself."

He did send the photos. I happened to be back in D.C. staying at my BFF's house when said photos arrived by e-mail. BFF was kind of excited by the whole Old Boyfriend Resurfacing Story too, so she joined me at the laptop to open the photos. As BFF and I sat at her kitchen table, I clicked on the link to open the photos.

There was dead silence. Then a gasp by me, and a guffaw from BFF before she shouted, "Oh my god, he's fat!"

I couldn't believe what I saw. The Model was almost unrecognizable. He looked bloated and puffy and not like a guy who ever sported a six pack, let alone modeled for Ralph Lauren.

The Model had become The Blowfish.

BFF recovered and said, "Well, maybe he's on some sort of medication that makes him look like that."

Ok, ok, The Zadge is shallow, but not that shallow. She was still willing to meet him. After all, she could force him into a gym and only feed him 300 calorie meals for a year.

But The Zadge's trip to South Carolina was still two months away. Which meant that The Blowfish started calling The Zadge, at work, several times a week bemoaning his life, which by the way, included no job! Apparently, The Blowfish had owned a restaurant that went out of business.

Perhaps because he ate all of the customers' food?

As the time for The Zadge's trip to South Carolina neared, The Blowfish's calls started to get needier and more sappy. The Zadge's desire for The Blowfish was diminishing with every new complaint about his sad, unemployed life as a stay-at-home dad.

The Zadge arrived in South Carolina for her work trip, which required her to be in a conference room with a hundred other people from 8:30 a.m. until 5. With her phone turned off. So when she stepped out of the conference in the late afternoon to hit the ladies' room, she discovered FIVE voicemails from The Blowfish, each one in an increasingly needy, hurt tone, accusing The Zadge of "pulling away from him."

That was it. The Zadge had to dropkick The Blowfish. Which she did by e-mail, because she just couldn't bear to hear his whiny neediness one more time.

And then she promptly unfriended him on Facebook.

You would think that she would have learned her lesson, right, about accepting friend requests from exes? Not so much. Stay tuned for "Facebook: The Old Boyfriend Edition, Part II."

Fun in the Mountains

2010-09-28T19:26:00.001-06:00

When the going gets tough, the tough go hiking. At least that's what The Zadge and Babe the Builder did this weekend and it worked! The Zadge forgot about her work woes for a few hours.

Oh yeah, the little felon trotted along too.

It was a strenuous and sweaty hike to the top of Mt. Sanitas, just outside of Boulder. When we reached the top, Harry saw a bunch of his brethren checking out the view:

Apparently, the hike briefly stemmed his "exuberance" and the alleged "toy agression," such that he didn't push any of the dogs off the mountain.

When we were nearing the end of the hike, Harry, who had been stopping frequently to rest, suddenly took off sprinting down the trail out of sight.

Oh, no, now what! Was he chasing a deer? Or worse, a bear? Was he eating wild animal poop?

No, he was just chillaxin':

When I was finally able to coax the chillin' felon out of the creek, we all hit the Boulder Farmer's market. Check out a picture of it here, where Bon Appetit magazine named Boulder the 2010 Foodiest Town in the U.S.

In addition to beautiful organic fruits and veggies, and a home baked Apple Caramel Crumble Pie, I picked up this beautiful bouquet of flowers for Old Vicky:

Mountain air, sweat, good friends, beautiful flowers and a happy dog were all The Zadge needed to banish her blues for the day!

Marley and Me

2010-09-27T20:14:00.000-06:00

The beat down. The bitch slap. The blues.

The Zadge has had them all this past week. The Top Secret Day Job is sucking the life out of our intrepid heroine. Her sense of frivolity and creativity are in deep hiding. She briefly lost her will to blog.

As she dropped Harry off at daycare this morning, she hoped the start of a new week would ctrl-alt-del her karma.

Yeah, right. Not only did the work smack down continue, but tonight The Zadge became that parent. The one with the bad kid on the playground.

Harry got kicked out of Doggie Day Care.

They said he is "too exuberant" in the pool. And shows signs of "toy aggression." And gets so amped up that he runs around getting up in every dog's face, annoying the shit out of them, and won't "listen to commands."

Harry annoying the shit out of The Shone

Apparently, they didn't have a bottle of bleach handy.

The Zadge, on the other hand, happens to have a bottle of vodka handy, and she intends to use it. On herself.

A Light in the Storm

2010-09-24T19:34:00.000-06:00

When you are having one of the worst weeks ever at the Top Secret Day Job, and you seriously contemplate quitting, but instead you cry intermittently for four hours because you realize you don't have a husband at home to pay the bills if you quit, and you look all fugly with your red nose and puffy eyes and anger steam pouring out of your ears, the best thing that can happen to you is that one of your oldest and best friends who you haven't seen in three and a half years shows up on your doorstep from San Francisco.

And suddenly, the clouds go away.

Football and Food

2010-09-22T17:45:00.000-06:00

I've mentioned in the past how much I love Sundays in the fall, when I spend all day on the couch watching pro football, while my pooches sleep in my lap.

Well, I don't actually spend the whole day on the couch. Because for some reason, I can't spend a Football Sunday without actually cooking up a big pot of something.

This past Sunday, I whipped up this number:

White Beans with Ham and Spinach.

I just made it up (and props to The Sista who, despite being a veggie herself, suggested the addition of the ham, which made the dish) and it's super easy. Seriously, none of that "So Easy" Ellie Krieger stuff. I'm talking, so easy Zadge style, which means you can make it without missing a minute of football.

WHITE BEANS WITH HAM AND SPINACH

1. Make a mirepoix.
Yeah, the Zadge is a fancy french bitch. If you're not, just dice up some carrots, celery and onion, and saute in olive oil in a big pot until all the veggies have softened.

2. Add some chopped fresh thyme and rosemary from the Zadge's garden.
Or from your own garden if you don't feel like flying all the way to Denver.

3. Add in a couple of cans of Cannellini beans and enough chicken stock to cover the beans.

4. Throw in a handful or two of diced ham. Maybe add a little salt along with his friend pepper.
     Pause, and take a big sip of your cocktail.

5. Simmer with top on for about 20 minutes while you cheer on the Broncos and the Redskins.

6. Remove the top and toss in a couple handfuls of baby spinach and stir until wilted.
   Until the spinach is wilted, not until you are wilted.

7. Toss in a handful of shredded parmesan reggiano, stir, and scoop into a bowl.
      Lap it up!

And the Sunday before that, I whipped up a Tomato Pie:

And by whipped up, I mean, I looked in the fridge and the pantry, saw the omnipresent summer heirloom tomatoes and fresh mozzarella and a frozen pastry crust and thought: pie! Another super ~~low-cal~~ easy Sunday supper:

TOMATO PIE

1. Saute sliced onions in olive oil until they carmelize, about 25 minutes. Meanwhile, bake the prepared pastry crust for about 10 minutes at 350 degrees.

2.   Line the baked pastry crust with the carmelized onions. Layer sliced tomatoes on top and drizzle with a little olive oil.

3. I know this will sound gross to many of you, but just do it: mix a little bit of mustard in with a 1/2 cup of mayo and spread over the top of the tomatoes.

4. Sprinkle Salt n Peppa on top. Toss chopped fresh basil over the top. Finish off with slices of fresh mozzarella.

5.    Bake at 350 for about 30-40 minutes. It's done when the crust is golden and everything else is nice and oozy.

6. Slice into pieces, pour yourself a glass of wine and dig in. You might need a spoon!

Monday Musings

2010-09-20T20:42:00.000-06:00

1. Can't Lindsay Lohan, Lindsay's mother, Paris Hilton, all of the Kardashians, all of the Palins, and all of the TeaPartiers just get together and go live on an island where no one can see or hear them? Ever again?

2. You haven't heard much about my second date with The Guy Who Doesn't Drink. Because I canceled it. See, The Guy Who Doesn't Drink is the same Guy Who Got a few DUIs. Not one. Not two. THREE. Which explains the not drinking. And he's also The Libertarian Guy Who Rants about Politics. And The Zadge moved out of D.C. to get away from political ranters. She also decided that she much prefers sitting on her couch with her pooches drinking a vodka tonic by herself to going out on dates with non-drinking ranters. No matter how cute they are.

3. But don't fear, because The Zadge did fall in love last week. With her new tile that was delivered for her Heinous Bathroom Remodel. It is beautiful and she loves, loves, loves it. She keeps pulling it out of the box and petting it.

4. Perhaps the Zadge's preference for drinking alone with her dogs and petting her marble tile is one reason why she is still single at 46.

5. Apropos of nothing, can someone please explain to me why it is not illegal for a grown man to wear denim shorts that hit below the knee in public?

6. While you're at it, please explain Russell Brand and Katy Perry, both together and separately.

7. The Zadge doesn't really go to the movies. By "doesn't really," I mean once a year if I'm lucky. But I will be beating down the doors to the movie theatre when "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo" opens because my Number One fake boyfriend Daniel "Bestill my loins" Craig is starring in it!

8. I bought some flowers yesterday and arranged them into two separate bouquets. When I left the house this morning, they were all the same height, just as I had planned. When I came home, I found this:

Just how high will the tulips grow?!

9. The Zadge is starting a campaign to stop the misuse of the phrase "I couldn't care less." Please, everyone, when you say "I could care less" it really means you care a lot! And while The Zadge has her grammar stick out, "bruschetta" is pronounced with a hard "k" not a "sh" sound. Clearly the waitress, who said to The Zadge when she recently ordered the "brusKETta", "oh, you mean the 'bruSHETTa'", hasn't been studying up on her Italian.

10. The Zadge has decided to grow out the Baby Goose. Not long, long, because, well, her hair just won't grow that long and even if it would, it would look like she was in the midst of chemo. No, she is growing it out just to the top of her shoulders. The Zadge misses her ponytail.

Saturday Sayin's

2010-09-18T20:30:00.000-06:00

Look who turned 2 today!

2010-09-16T17:42:00.000-06:00

Happy Birthday Curly-Top Finnie!

Curried Chicken Salad

2010-09-15T20:07:00.000-06:00

The Zadge is kicking off the fall season with a renewed emphasis on healthy eating. It's not that she's some super health nut. It's that she is terrified of the evil Gelatinous Muffin Top.

Foremost in her arsenal of weapons to battle the evil GMT is "So Easy" by Ellie Krieger. Ellie is a nutritionist with her own Food Network show and her cookbook has great recipes that are really healthy. Remember The Zadge's dinner party featuring Ellie's Paella?

Last night, I whipped up this from her cookbook:

Curried Chicken Salad atop organic baby arugula. It was both delish and deadly in the fight against the GMT! It's super easy to make, and you can have the leftovers the next day for lunch in a pita.

"SO EASY" CURRIED CHICKEN SALAD

Ingredients

1 cup low-sodium chicken broth
1 cup water
1 1/4 pounds boneless skinless chicken breast halves, no more than 3/4-inch thick
1/4 cup sliced almonds
1/2 cup nonfat plain yogurt (I used Fage no-fat greek yogurt)
2 tablespoons mayonnaise (I only used 1 tablespoon and didn't notice the diff)
1 teaspoon curry powder
1 cup halved red grapes
1/4 cup chopped cilantro leaves (BLECH! I think cilantro tastes like soap. Left it out)
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
5 ounces mixed greens (about 5 cups lightly packed)) (I used baby arugula)
1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
1 teaspoon lemon juice (I left out the dressing completely - the yogurty curry sauce is enough to moisten the greens)
I added chopped celery because I can't imagine any chicken salad without it. It adds a good crunch.

Directions

Bring the broth and water to a boil in a medium saucepan. Add chicken to broth and simmer, covered, for 8 minutes. Turn the heat off and let chicken stand in the cooking liquid, covered, until cooked through, about 20 minutes. Remove the chicken from the broth and cool completely in the refrigerator. (No, don't put it in the fridge. It will cool in the air in like a hot minute. Who has the damn time?) Cut into 1/4-inch dice. Toast the almonds in a small dry skillet over medium-high heat until fragrant and beginning to turn golden, 2 to 3 minutes. (Bag toasting the almonds. Too much damn work on a Tuesday night)

In a large bowl, stir together the yogurt, mayonnaise, and curry powder. Fold in the chicken, grapes and ~~cilantro~~ Dove Soap and season, to taste, with salt and pepper.

Then toss in some of the Zadge's chopped celery for the crunch we all need.

In a large bowl, toss the greens with the oil, lemon juice and salt and pepper, to taste. Or just don't and save those calories for your Vodka Tonic. Arrange the greens on 4 individual plates (if you have friends. I don't, so I dine alone), top with a scoop of the chicken salad and sprinkle with the almonds.

Per Serving (serving size: 1 cup chicken salad and 1 1/4 cups greens):

Calories 325;
Total Fat 14 g; (Sat Fat 2 g, Mono Fat 6 g, Poly Fat 5 g) ;
Protein 37 g;
Carb 13 g;
Fiber 2 g;
Cholesterol 85 mg;
Sodium 175 mg
Excellent source of: Protein, Vitamin A, Niacin, Vitamin B6, Phosphorus, Selenium
Good source of: Riboflavin, Vitamin C, Calcium, Iron, Magnesium, Manganese, Potassium

Dog Days of Summer

2010-09-14T11:02:00.000-06:00

The Zadge cried yesterday morning when she dropped off her youngest for his first day at school.

Alright, hold on, let's get a couple of things straight.

The Zadge was not dropping off her child. Because she does not have a child. (The Kaiser doesn't count.)

And it wasn't really a "school" but a $27/day doggy daycare.

And she wasn't really crying tears of bittersweet joy that her little one was growing up, but rather tears of "goddamn-it's-only-9a.m.-and-this-morning-is-already-so-deep-in-the-shitter-how-bad-will-the-rest-of-the-MFing-day-get?"

See, it's Monday morning and it's not yet 8 a.m. and the SHIT HAS HIT THE FAN at Old Vicky. There's broken glass, and liquids oozing out of microwaves all over the new wood floors, and robo-politcal election telephone calls at 5 f*#king 30 in the morning, and construction workers, and dogs that won't shit, and sweat on The Zadge's brow, and basically a really crappy stressful morning.

And it is ~~Hellion~~ Harry's first day of day care. Which in and of itself was causing me to stress. I thought it would be a good way for Harry to get rid of his ya-yas. Run around all day with other dogs, swim in the day care's pool and poop on someone else's rug for a change. On Saturday, I took Harry for his "interview" that the day care requires before he can attend. He passed with flying colors.

But then there was the near drowning incident.

Not of Harry. Of the 5 month old golden retriever who Harry just swam over and on top of, pushing the puppy under the water for what seemed like a whole minute. After The Zadge screamed at the top of her lungs, the puppy popped up, apparently unharmed. The Zadge resusitated herself, then pulled Harry out of the pool.

So The Zadge was a little fearful that dropping Harry off at day care might not be a good idea. But she dropped him off anyway, after warning the employees of the day care not to let any puppies in the pool with her killer, and then she and her bad mood headed to the Top Secret Day Job.

The Doggie Daycare has a "Doggie Cam" that lets you see what ~~homicides~~ fun your dog is doing. So The Zadge logged on to watch her killer. Except, of course, since it was Shitty Day, the Doggie Cam was not working. And then Babe the Builder called and said, "Oops, no water for a while cuz the framer hit a water pipe in your bathroom renovation."

What's a Zadge to do? It's not even noon, so really, she can't pull off the stiff Grey Goose Martini in the office that she really wants because Jon Hamm is nowhere to be seen. It's one of the few times in her life that she is too wired to lay down and take a nap. And then she looks at her computer screen on the Day Care site. She sees a button that says "snapshot." Apparently, even though the live feed on the Doggie Cam wasn't working, the option for a still shot was.

The Zadge hit it.

And suddenly the snapshot at that very minute showed her hellion, Harry, just as he did a belly flop into the pool as the other dogs looked on:

And like that, my day turned around.

Look at that joy, that freedom, that love of life. That dog is a hellion, but he's found the secret to life.

Love everyone you meet.

Sniff out every possibility.

Play.

Dive in!

Eat poop.

(Okay, let's just ignore that last one.)

And after he did all that, he came home to Old Vicky, got fed, and at 6:45 p.m., got up on this couch and didn't move until the next day!

Live like a dog.

Saturday Sayin's

2010-09-11T15:11:00.000-06:00

The Start of Big Things

2010-09-09T20:17:00.001-06:00

Big things are happening today. Big.

First, Who Dat? It's the start of the NFL football season! Super Bowl champs New Orleans Saints play Brett "I just can't stop un-retiring" Favre's Minnesota Vikings tonight. The Zadge just loves to spend a crisp fall Sunday on the couch with her dogs, fire glowing in the fireplace, watching football all day long, while she simmers a batch of soup or chili on the stove.

So normally, I'd be glued to NBC tonight watching the opening season game. But I have a conflict.

My new Spanish lover, Fernando Verdasco, is playing at the exact same time in the U.S. Open against number one ranked (and fellow Spaniard) Rafael Nadal. He told me ~~in my dreams~~ on the phone last night that he really needs my support. So here I sit, blogging on the laptop, watching football on the TV, and tennis on the iPad.

All this multi-tasking may cause a dull post.

Or maybe I can chalk the dull post up to the dust that has infiltrated my brain from the demolition of 114-year old plaster walls.

See, the other big thing that happened today is The Heinous Bathroom Remodel began! Check out my new bathroom door:

Demo continues tomorrow, but this is what The Bathroom-soon-to-be-formerly-known-as-Heinous looks like today:

Babe the Builder is on it! And guess what? Babe and The Zadge's new kitchen just won "Best Kitchen Remodel" by the Denver Homebuilders Association!! For you Denver readers, if you are considering a home renovation project, you must, must hire Babe! Check her out here.

Will The Zadge survive another disruptive, dust-filled construction project in Old Vicky? Will her mad multi-tasking cause her to continue to pen mind-numbingly dull posts? Will Fernando's lust for his new American lover cause him to ditch his pro tennis career to move into Old Vicky with The Zadge?

Stay tuned.

Loose Ends

2010-09-07T19:26:00.000-06:00

1. Awoken at 2:15 a.m. Saturday night by next door "party dude" renters and all their party dude, weed-smoking, cheap canned beer drinking buddies, who apparently thought it was a good idea to party -- outside -- until 4 a.m. in a quiet older neighborhood where they are the only renters on the street. Their neighbors were not happy. One of them was so pissed off she called the cops on them. Guess who. She hates to be "that neighbor" but she hates being up for two hours in the middle of the night listening to a party she wasn't invited to more.

2. Apparently the normal time to housebreak a dog is 5 months. Can someone please then explain why I found yet another oozy pile on the ~~$6,000 rug~~ poop mat from the freakin' three year old dog?

3. Blind date Sunday afternoon/evening. The Zadge was herself briefly blinded by his handsomeness. Three mile dog walk turned into two and a half hour dinner. She learned that baby jesus of bethlehem he does not drink. You may be aware that The Zadge does. Not sure this is a match made ~~online~~ in heaven, but there is already a second date scheduled for later in the week. The Zadge will be bringing a hidden flask.

4. But really, Mr. Blind Date has no chance. Because The Zadge landed a new boyfriend today. She had the U.S. Open on while she was making dinner, and then she suddenly fell in love. Meet Fernando Verdasco, The Zadge's new boyfriend:

He's a smoking hot Spanish tennis player:

Apparently, Calvin Klein thought he was hot too:

The Zadge has already started her Spanish lessons. And she asked Fernando if he wanted to hit the tennis ball around a bit. He said he would love to and showed up to her house like this:

Love-all. Of him!!!!

Re-runs are the only thing playin' at the end of the summer!

2010-09-06T21:04:00.000-06:00

So I had planned to do a post today tying up a few loose ends.

Like the 911 call over the weekend. And the date I had yesterday.

But alas, The Zadge spent the day romping with the dogs, shopping, playing tennis and then eating and drinking with friends, so she's really too ~~buzzed~~ tired to tie up her shoes, let alone any loose ends on her blog.

And it's the end of summer, after all, and all that is on the tube are re-runs. So The Zadge is copping out and posting a re-run from the nascent days of this little blog. Afterall, I only had two readers back then, so this should be new to all of you who aren't my sister or my mother.

Monday, August 10, 2009

My sister is responsible for this blog. My sister is an amazingly gifted artist, with an incredible, creative mind. And she's way ahead of me on the technology front. She kept saying, "You need to start a blog." I didn't even know what the hell a blog was. But she said, "With all your stories, you've got it."

By "all your stories," she meant that I find myself frequently IN SHIT. Not literally (well, actually, that's kinda true too....more on Harry's gastric issues later), but I seem to always find myself in the middle of a story. I wasn't sure about the whole thing, but I trusted her, and here I am blogging in your face. So blame her.

So this evening I'm driving home from work, on the phone with the aforementioned Sista, and I'm telling her that I was stuck - I couldn't think of anything interesting to blog about tonight. Just as I say that, I pull into the alley that leads to my garage. I immediately see a huge truck rumbling out of the alley toward me. I say to Sista, "Holy Sheeat, big truck coming. Let me call you back."

Well, let's just say that suddenly I am no longer stuck on what to blog about. See, I back up to let the truck out, the truck rumbles out, and I drive back into the alley to get to my garage, and out of the blue, I'm suddenly freakin' stuck in a huge 4 foot deep, 8 foot wide cement filled sink hole!!!! And by "I'm freakin' stuck" I mean my freakin' huge Toyota 4Runner with the huge oversized tires is nose down in a freakin' hole in the alley!!

Seriously, does this freakin' sheeat happen to anyone else?!!

Who else gets her SUV swallowed up by a giant hole of freshly-filled concrete? NO ONE! You don't know anyone else that this has happened to!!!

I didn't even know what the hell happened when I hit the hole -- all I knew was that I was about to get to my garage and suddenly there was an awful metal scraping/crash noise and my car was nose-dived into the road, like my two front tires had fallen off, and I was flung violently forward (Ok, I may be zadging a bit to use the word "violently" -- but at least it was "strongly").

I get out of the car and see that my front end is sinking in a pit of quickly solidifying cement. Holy Sheeat Mother of Gawd! Within seconds, several worker dudes come running out, screaming in Spanish:

We all stand around pointing blame, scratching our heads and watching the concrete hole solidify around my front end and tires. Someone suddenly has the bright idea (I have to say, it wasn't The Zadge ) that maybe we should argue blame later and get the car out of the hardening quicksand!!!!! That entails some major construction equipment and a heavy duty chain.

The Zadge's poor rig is just covered in quickly hardening cement! Again - who do you know that this kind of crap happens to?!

The police show up after The Zadge calls them because the guys who dug the hole that she didn't see and fell into are claiming that she was somehow negligent by trying to drive into her garage. Can you see the little police car behind the big rig that pulled The Zadge's SUV out of the sink hole?

You probably can't see the police officer inside that car who is going to rue the day he answered this call. You see, the short, snotty police officer who got out of that car really, really pissed off The Zadge more than she was already pissed off about nosediving into an unmarked cement sink hole in her own goddamned alley. Shorty Sheriff, after speaking Spanish to the guys who created the aforementioned cement sink hole, turned to The Zadge and said, "Ok, nothing here for me to do. Looks like there was a sign saying the alley was closed, so this is your fault."

Au contraire, mon fraire. See, Shorty Sheriff tried to claim that the workers had placed a sign in the alley closing it off, but I had ignored it.....Here's the view I had as I turned into the alley, MY ALLEY, only to be greeted by their rumbling truck, and then had to back up:

See that little white top of the sign just above the blue car? See that a) it's NOT in the alley, but on the sidewalk; and b) that you don't see it if some big-ass truck is pulling out of the alley, so you have to back up; and c) even IF you could see the sign, YOU CAN'T SEE THE DAMN SINKHOLE 50 FEET INTO THE ALLEY THAT WILL SWALLOW YOU UP BECAUSE THERE ARE NO ORANGE CONES, NO SIGNS, NO NUTHIN'!!!! .... So, let's just say that The Zadge schooled Shorty Sheriff on the law of gross negligence, corrected his grammar, and sent his shorty-ass back to his squad car.

After that, surprisingly, all of the cement dudes started suddenly trying to correct the situation. Power hoses came out and for almost an hour, they did everything in their power to get the quickly hardening cement off of The Zadge's rig. And then, funny thing, we all started to be friends. Amigos! Let's just say that this whole fiasco ended up with: a) The Zadge's car being relatively unharmed (other than a bent tow hitch, no visible injury) subject to review by a mechanic; b) all of the spanish workers giving me bows when they left; and c) the hole site actually being marked as it should have been in the first place:

So all in all, a nice end to a bad situation. But for the love of god, how do I get myself into this sheeat?!!! Could it all be subliminally for the blog?

Sunday Morning Musings

2010-09-05T09:54:00.000-06:00

I'm a Twitter Quitter

2010-09-03T19:19:00.002-06:00

Remember a few weeks ago I told you I was shamed into joining Twitter? I even put the Tweet bird link on this blog so anyone could follow all my fascinating tweets.

Notice the cute little Tweet bird is gone from the blog.

Because I am a Twitter Quitter. And happy as a jaybird about it.

I lasted a week before I couldn't take the inanity and narcissism of "The Twitter" for a minute longer. Seriously, I don't understand how any one can stand it. Take the worst of your Facebook "friends" - you know, the ones you hide because you can't stand to read one more status update like "Dropping Bobby off at school!" and "Going to lunch now!" - and then multiply that by the hundreds!

Apparently, the "polite" thing to do on Twitter is to follow someone who has signed up to follow you. That's how I ended up receiving - I kid you not - 50 tweets a day from some stay at home mommy blogger with young triplets. And not a single one of them was interesting. And often they were "retweets" upon retweets, meaning her tweets would read something like this: RT@getalifemomy#hilariousRT@helpmommie@mommyhell#gogirl!

What the fuck does that mean? And who is caring for your infants while you are twittering away my sanity?

In addition to the losers who overtweet boring-ass shit, there was the issue that The Zadge didn't understand a thing any of her fellow Twitterers were saying. It's all RTs and number signs and @ symbols. Now The Zadge is not really that dumb - she did go to a top notch college and grad school. So the only thing she could conclude about her inability to understand anyone's tweets is that they were tweeting in Ebonics.

Then you add on just the sheer volume of collective tweets. Even if I wanted to read the twitterers I like because they only tweet once or twice a day and say funny things not in Ebonics, I couldn't find them in the stream of drivel that flows out of the Twitter machine. I tried TweetDeck to manage it all, setting up columns like "Friends," "Cool Bloggers," and "Twats" for the overtweeters, but it was still too much.

Who the hell has the time? Some people are following thousands of people - SERIOUSLY? Perhaps you should consider getting a job.

The Kaiser tried to convince me that it was a good thing to do "for your blog." Maybe. But it's not a good thing to do for my sanity, and I don't think they let you bring your laptops into the mental hospital once you are committed. I read an article that 60% of people who sign up for Twitter quit within the first month.

Make that 61%! @TheZadgebye-byetwitter

The Rockstar formerly known as Zadge

2010-09-02T17:21:00.000-06:00

You know how people sometimes say, "If you could be anything in the world, what would it be?" And usually people say things like, "I'd run a foundation that feeds all the starving children in the world" or "I'd find a cure for cancer" or I'd be an astronaut."

Well The Zadge would be a rock star. Lead singer. Hands down.

And the other night, The Zadge got her chance. She performed with her rocking band at the famous concert site, Red Rocks:

It's probably the most phenomenal place to see a band in the country. I kid you not. Superstars go out of their way to play here. Like The Zadge.

Here was my view from the stage looking out:

And here I am belting out a Sheryl Crow song, with my rocking band:

Oh wait. That's not me, that is Sheryl Crow. I'm the one holding the camera in the third row front and center taking the picture of Sheryl Crow with her rocking band. Sorry.

Somehow I confused her and me. But you can see why, no? We are the same height, give or take 10 inches. We have the same figure, give or take 40 pounds. We have the same hair, give or take 10 hours at the salon getting extensions. Both of us claim Jen Aniston as our best friend. Oh, and we both have asshole ex-boyfriends who dope and win the Tour de France. Well, let's just say we both have asshole exes and leave it at that.

Despite my confusion, I did have a rockin' good time Tuesday night. Babe the Builder and I enjoyed a little tailgate before the show:

We had great seats in the third row to the right of the stage:

Right in front of the two big security guards. Who The Zadge got to meet up close and personal when they snagged her pulling her contraband camera out of her left boob and snapping shots of the opening act, Colbie Caillet:

The Zadge turned on the blonde and feigned ignorance of the "No Photos" policy. For a change, she did not get arrested.

Then The Zadge got a text from her buddy The Gentle Vet, who had been sitting in the hinterlands, that she had snagged seats in The Zadge's row, but front and center! The Zadge and Babe scurried down the row to join her:

It was darker by then, and ~~The Zadge~~ Sheryl was rocking it out, and there were different security guards in front, and The Zadge just had to throw caution to the wind and try for another shot:

After all, how often do you get to be a rockstar at Red Rocks?! If I didn't have photographic evidence of it, no one who has heard me sing would believe it.

Unfortunately, the next day The Zadge had to trade in her rockstar voice, body and clothes and go back to reality at the little ole Top Secret Day Job.

Sigh. A girl can dream can't she?

Getting Married Later in Life?

2010-08-31T16:23:00.000-06:00

Meet The Zadge's friends, Jude and Mrs. Jude:

Jude is an old friend of mine from D.C. We were colleagues together at the D.C. Top Secret Day Job. And doesn't he look like Will on Glee?!

His name isn't really Jude. See, The Zadge calls people "Dude." A lot. She's really hip that way, using a tired term from the 1990s. And she used to call him Dude, but because he is Jewish, The Zadged morphed it into Jude, which The Zadge thought was a riot. It doesn't take much.

Anyhoo, Judey was in town this past weekend for our friend Blumie's son's bar mitzvah, which I couldn't attend because of the Fin Fan Club. But I was able to tear myself away from the 'Club for a couple of hours to visit with Jude and his new bride, Mrs. Jude.

Now this was a big thing, meeting the new Mrs. Jude. See, Jude has been a single guy about town for a very long time. In the 15 years that The Zadge has been friends with Jude, she has seen a lot of girls suffer broken hearts after dating the handsome man that many thought would never get married.

But the thing is, one day, just a year ago, he got set up on a blind date with the future Mrs. Jude, and bam! That was all she wrote. Two months ago they were married. And they both seem as happy as can be! She's a doll and The Zadge is very happy for them both.

And seeing them made The Zadge realize that maybe she too will meet someone after years of singledom and then, Bam!

And guess what?

I'd advise you to be sitting down for this.

The Zadge has a date this weekend. A blind date. With a cute, age-appropriate man, who went to college and graduate school, has a job, a dog and a house, and is not going to be shaking his wretched towel-covered Canadian thang at her.

Anything is possible, no?

The day The Zadge turned into a Mommy Blogger

2010-08-30T17:39:00.001-06:00

You know how one day you suddenly realize, Baby Jesus of Bethlehem, I've become that person. The one who thinks the kids play their music too loud, forgetting your own years of listening to deafening music. Or the stiletto-wearing woman who claimed she would never wear ugly comfort shoes. And now you do.

Well, today I've become the dreaded mommy-blogger. Except that I'm not really a mom, although the Shone and Harry would say differently. But I do think that my nephew is the cutest thing on the planet and cannot resist the urge to share every utterly charming thing he does with the blogosphere.

I'm an Auntie-Blogger:

But look at this face - can you blame me?

The Fin had a busy social week during his stay in Denver with The Fin Fan Club (or The Blondies, as we re-dubbed ourselves). He dined al fresco:

He dined in fine establishments called "Noodle & Company:"

This happy moment was right before The Fin puked up his mac-n-cheese all over himself:

Which required The Sista to remove The Fin's vomit-soaked shorts. So The Fin spent the day running around Colorado in just his diaper and his Crocs:

He tried to catch balloons:

He went shoe shopping. Clearly, he has inherited some of his Aunt's genes:

Colorado is filled with wildlife, but The Fin was not scared:

Most everything he did in Colorado involved trucks, or "TRUK" as he says:

It wasn't all fun and games for The Fin. I put him to work. He watered ~~himself~~ my garden:

He swept up in the kitchen:

Except somehow, that involved TRUK too:

But all that activity makes a 23-month old very tired:

And he ended up falling asleep every night in his favorite spot - on Moomskers:

The Fin Fan Club had a fantastic visit and I was so sad to see them leave. After I dropped them off at the airport yesterday, I came back to a quiet home.

And all that was left of The Fin was this:

Thanksgiving can't come fast enough.

Saturday Sayin's

2010-08-28T21:13:00.000-06:00

When The Fin Fan Club is in town.......

2010-08-27T09:28:00.000-06:00

The Zadge's Latest Shopping Spree

2010-08-24T20:34:00.000-06:00

The Zadge is so excited about her latest shopping spree!

Look what she bought:

Don't worry, those aren't for me.

Neither are these:

I'm pretty good at my ABCs, at least before the second vodka tonic.

Even though I don't own a farm, I bought these farm rigs:

I know it's odd that I'm excited about buying stuff like this, instead of my usual sprees on iPads and cameras and lenses.

But that's because this messy little eater is coming to Denver tomorrow, along with the rest of the Fin Fan Club!!!!

Yippeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!