Good Times, May Edition ...

The May cookie installment for the angelo:HOME blog features Cream Cheese Cookies with Lemon Curd. For Angelo to enjoy with tea. With Michelle Pfeiffer.

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Really, Jayson? Really? Part IX ...

It was a lark, really.

I just popped over to the Jayson site to see if there was anything new and ridiculous.

Oh, silly me. Of course there was something new and ridiculous! It's Jayson!

This item damn near deserves a post all to itself, but I found a couple other items (one of which I saw when I was there recently) to include, too.

The star of the post, though, is this rugged fellow. "Hey," you might be thinking, "that kind of looks like a leather-covered cooler."

That is exactly what it is! A leather-covered Coleman cooler. Coleman. For serious. It says so right there in the description.

Yeah, a Coleman cooler. Just like the kind you can pick up at Target or Home Depot for $25 or so.

But this sucker is covered in leather. And that, apparently, makes it worth $1,495.

Now here's what I don't get: Who's the Howell plunking down $1,500 for a cooler? Because it seems to me that if you have that kind of cash to blow on a cooler, you probably have enough cash to cater whatever event others might attend with a cooler in tow. Though I suppose your leather-covered-cooler valets might tote it behind you. Would you use it as a coffee table once you arrive at your destination? Wouldn't it just look marvelous with a candelabrum on top?! Oh, just fetching! Really, top drawer!


Leather Cooler – $1,495

This little number makes the cut for two reasons: 1) Because it's a wee salt cellar for $120 – oh, do take it with you on your low-rent leather-cooler outing! – and 2) Because of the very amusing instruction "do not wash."


Rock Salt Cellar with Spoon – $120

And lastly, the Vintage Lucite Chair, aka The Chair No One Will Want To Sit In Because They'll Fear Breaking It And Also Because It Appears To Offer About The Same Degree Of Comfort As An Airline Seat Only Without The Benefit Of Arm Rests Or A Free Can Of Sprite. It's $2,495. There are four available, in case you have $10,000 burning a hole in your pocket.


Vintage Lucite Chair – $2,495

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A New Adventure ...

For some time, I've been thinking that I should create a blog about the absurd craigslist ads I see. Today's the day.

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Life With A Demanding Mother ...

My mom is very materialistic.

For Mothers' Day, she asked for rubber spatulas.



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I'm Tellin' You, This Is Gonna Be Huge ...

A conversation I had recently led me to the idea that people who are prone to negativity might want to wear that on their chests (as opposed to on their sleeves) as a means of basking in their glass-is-half-empty-ness and also as a warning to others to not expect any pleasant encounters.*

So I spent about 30 seconds working up a logo, a la the Superman emblem:



* Yes, I'm joking.

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Hello, Lilacs ...

It is a very pleasant morning. I spied these lovelies on a walk and returned with my camera to snap a few frames. To share. And enjoy when the blooms are gone.





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On Mothering And Brownies ...

I am not a mother, though my brothers used to complain, "Mom! She's playing mother again!"

I may have been a little bossy. But I had to have a means of defense. You don't want to know what they did to some of my toys.

In addition to bossy, I was also a Brownie. Yes, the beanie-topped variety. My uniform included a vest adorned with homemade merit badges cut from felt. My mom was a Brownie leader for a time. And mom taught me how to bake brownies.

So in all those ways, it's legit that I am part of Mothers Among Us, the second podcast installment of "Talking With My Mouth Full" on Leite's Culinaria, in which David, the site's namesake, his lovely editor-in-chief, Renee, and I tackle the big brownie issues: fudgy or cakey, frosting or no frosting, nuts or no nuts.

My brownies walk the line between fudgy and cakey, I slather on the frosting, and I stir, into the gloppy batter, an embarrassment of toasted walnuts that provide the perfect toasty, nutty foil to the cakey-fudginess of the brownies and the smoothness of the frosting. They're a textural extravaganza.

My thanks to David and Renee for inviting me to be a part of the fun, and for including me in a post about moms by stretching "the definition to embrace not just maternal figures but all those women who’ve taken it upon themselves to mother us in some fashion."

My mom loves to cook and bake for others. It fulfills her as much as it nourishes us. And that is one of the many gifts that she has passed along to me.

For Brownies and brownies and everything else you've done and do, thanks, mom.

I'll bake some for dessert on Sunday.

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The image is from David's site, as you shall see. It was too much kitschy fun to not poach and use again here.

Jayson Versus Reality ...

The other day, when I was poking around Jayson, I spied a chair that looked nearly identical to a new chair in Angelo's line: scroll back, tufting, interesting finish on the legs. The Jayson chair has more tufting than Angelo's, but Angelo's chair features nailhead detail that the Jayson chair lacks, so in a details match-up, I'd give the edge to Angelo.*

Of course, given that I was in Jayson, I had to look at the price tag.

The Jayson version? $350.

The angelo:HOME version? $140, give or take a few bucks. The price may vary slightly by retailer.

In Angelo's mind, folks can pair various seating elements around a table, not just a set of chairs. But presuming folks will buy a set of six chairs, that works out, not including tax and/or shipping, to:

Jayson: $2,100 ($350 x 6)

angelo:HOME: $840 ($140 x 6)

Oh, and Angelo's chair comes in six colors. Jayson offers one. And if you spill something on the Jayson chair, you need dry-cleaning solvent – because we all have dry-cleaning solvent on hand, right? – to spot clean it. Angelo's fabric repels spills, which, in a dining room, is a pretty good idea.

angelo:HOME on the left, Jayson on the right:



* Yes, I'm biased.

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Really, Jayson? Really? Special Edition ...

Today, I popped into Jayson in person to schmy around and behold the wonderment up close.

There was one piece I really loved, a rolled-arm, tufted-back sofa in gorgeously worn leather. I'd link to it but I don't see it on the site. It might be the Theodore, which is offered in a coffee velvet but which can be customized. Or perhaps it was a one-off piece. In any event, it was quite the honey.

And I saw this piece, which is rather genius, I must say, for a large apartment with an expanse of windows that needs something to fill the space underneath. Someone who lives in such an apartment surely entertains, and this bench would provide a perch for a lot of swank guys and gals, tony beverages in hand.


Field Bench with Back - 9' – $4,895

But the true "Jayson" moment of the day came right inside the front door. I spied a mirror and said, "Oh, that's nice." Subtle. Not at all blingy. Perhaps a bit old. Simple lines. I was with Doreen. She leaned in to peer at the price tag.

"Nine hundred and ninety five dollars."

"What? No," I said. Nearly one thousand dollars? What?

She stepped aside. I leaned in to peer at the price tag. Yup.

It is not from France. It is from Palm Beach. It dates to the '70s. The 1970s. And it's nearly one thousand dollars. Oh, Jayson.


Vintage Mirror – $995

And lastly, a bonus entry, a sub-entry, if you will, which I have decided to call "Jayson? Huh?"

Box of Chalk - Black – $6

Oh, and if you're looking for a gift for mom for Mother's Day, Jayson offers what appears to be a very typical orchid for $100. $100. No, I don't know why. Other than: "Jayson."

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Heartwarming ...

My friend Martha is on a trip to France, sketch pads and watercolors in tow, walking through various cities, appreciating the jaw-dropping beauty, creating beautiful art and memories, and treating herself to pastries that catch her eye.

The other morning, on Facebook, she posted this on my page:

"I bought myself a French sable from a bakery that has awesome bread. It's not nearly as good as the ones you make."

Martha, in addition to being ridiculously talented, is a sweetheart.

I already planned to gather testimonials for Baking By Beth as the year progresses but yesterday, with her permission, Martha's became the first one, edited slightly to stay sablé-specific.

The "b" that is my logo is a piece of type that Martha owns. She uses it on a fantastically cool press from 1909 that has taken over her dining room.

I love that she makes her living from her creativity.

That's my goal, too.

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Shortbread Revisited ...

A dreary morning called for the comfort of butter and flour and sugar and the warmth of an oven.

The recipe is so simple as to be ridiculous and odds are you'll always have the ingredients on hand.

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My Great Idea For A TV Show ...

I cut my grass for the first time this season. (And I put my snow shovel away.)

That is about the depth of my landscaping interest. I may stick a few plants in a few pots depending on my mood in a given year, but beyond that, these thumbs are not green.

That said, as I was mowing today, I spied something I haven't noticed in my yard before.

"Oh, hello," I said. "What are you?"

Some kind of weed, no doubt. But a sweet weed.

So I took a picture of it and as I was downloading it to my computer, I thought, "I should have a TV show called The Entirely Passive Gardener."

I love this idea. I could walk around my yard and just notice things that are growing.

I'm sure it would be a huge hit, and with the money I would earn from the show, I could hire a landscaper to make my yard more presentable. And a gardener to maintain it.

But I'd still cut the grass. Probably. On the nice days.

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Worth And Worthiness ...

I just read a post that that used way, way, way too many words (so many that I nearly stopped reading because oy vey already, dude, get to the point) to argue the premise that, in life, charging what you're worth is bullshit.

"Bullshit" is his word, not mine.

The entire post seems to be predicated on the notion that some people charge for goods and/or services based on the value they assign to themselves as human beings — and they hold themselves in very high esteem.

I have never met anyone who charges for any goods or services based on what they believe their value to be as a person. Have you?

I am a very good baker. When I start my baking business, what I charge for baked goods will be based on what the market will bear, what my costs are to produce said baked goods, and yes, some margin that takes into account my talent as a baker. I will price based on what the cookies, etc., are worth, not my value as a person. If I price a cookie at two dollars, say, the reasoning will not be "This cookie is priced at two dollars because I am a very good person," the reasoning will be "This cookie is priced at two dollars because it cost me a dollar to produce and I can't afford to produce cookies and not earn any profit."

It has never crossed my mind to price a cookie any other way.

To say "This cookie is priced at one hundred dollars because I am a very, very nice person!" would be asinine, right?

Likewise, what I charge for wordsmithing services is based on what the market will bear. And frankly, I'm probably not charging enough in some instances. But given that many folks don't want to pay anything for writing or editing, finding clients who are willing to pay my current rates is challenge enough for the moment.

People can charge whatever they like. And other people will pay or not pay based on whether or not they perceive the value in a given cost.

A couple years ago, I was helping a client on a project and finished early. As long as I was at the office, and because she was crunched for time before a meeting, she asked me to do some quick research about possible speakers for an upcoming event. She told me the budget for a speaker so I could rule out anyone whose fee was higher than what they were willing to pay.

And I seem to remember her mentioning at some point that Jon Stewart charges $300,000 per speaking engagement.

But here's the fascinating thing (whether or not it's exactly true, I don't rightly know, but it's what I heard that day): He's set his fee at $300,000 because he really doesn't want to do speaking engagements. It's not worth it to him to be away from his family. But if someone is willing to pony up $300,000, then he'll do an event, knowing full well that almost nobody will ever cough up that kind of cash for a speaker.

I think that's brilliant.

His fee has nothing to do with what he thinks his value is as a person. His fee has everything to do with how much he values his time with his family.

His fee is not reflective of his ego. His fee is reflective of a complete lack of ego: It's not about him, it's about the other people in his life.

Maybe there are some people in the world who charge based on their perceived value of themselves. I've certainly never met any of them. But even so, wouldn't the market determine the ultimate value?

Perhaps there was a time when Paris Hilton thought she was worth $1 million per club opening, but if folks were only willing to pay her $250,000, that's what her appearance was worth, right?

It's all weird to contemplate. But I know this much, at least: I hang around with a lot of not-egocentric folks. Which is just the way I like 'em.

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Hey, Little Squirrel ...

I was headed out on an errand late yesterday afternoon when I spied this little guy snacking on some greenery near my front door.

Hey, little squirrel? You're welcome to snack all you like, but go for the random dandelions that pop up first, OK?

Hiring Managers, Let's Talk, Part II ...

April 24, 2013

To: Hiring managers, HR professionals, et al.
From: Beth Kujawski
Re: What I intend to find in a position

Hello again. When I last wrote, I extolled my many virtues as an employee.

But if a job search is like dating, it's not enough to talk about oneself. One must also reveal what one is seeking in a prospective mate, as it were.

So, then, with some specificity, I intend to find a word-person job (i.e. writing, editing, proofreading) that ...:

⧫ ... affords me the opportunity to work with people who possess and display and value integrity. Working with those who lack it makes for a very unpleasant experience.

⧫ ... offers a creative, collaborative environment in which ideas are not only encouraged but have a real chance at being implemented. There is certainly a place for the tried and true, but "We do it this way because that's the way we've always done it" thinking isn't always the best approach.

⧫ ... expects employees to put in a solid day's work and then allows them to have a life outside of the office. I am happy to put in extra effort on the occasional big project or proposal, or in the event of an emergency, but I have seen the effects of 24/7 expectation. It's not pretty.

⧫ ... values excellence and rewards it accordingly. I once worked at a company that never awarded the top ranking on employee evaluations. The thinking was that there was always room for improvement. Which is true. But for those who went the extra mile in their jobs consistently, to never achieve the equivalent of an "A" wasn't incentivizing, it was demoralizing.

⧫ ... makes optimal use of the skills and talents that I bring to the organization yet provides the opportunity for me to learn new things I may have not even known were of interest to me.

Know of any companies that fill this bill? Let's talk.

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Hiring Managers, Let's Talk ...

April 17, 2013

To: Hiring managers, HR professionals, et al.
From: Beth Kujawski
Re: You, me, and the state of the job market

We haven't met. Which is a shame. Because the first thing you should know about me is that I am an awesome employee / contractor / freelancer.

I was raised to be humble. But for the purposes of this memo, I am setting humility aside. I shall resume my humble ways when I hit Publish on this post. Until then, though, I'm going to take this opportunity to be more blunt than I've ever been before. It's time.

I am the kind of person who cannot shirk. There are times when I think I'd like to shirk, but then my conscience pipes up (it sounds like me, but I'm pretty sure it's my mother) and tells me to do what I know is right. So I do.

When I was 18, I ran Jeff Zaslow's Chicago office at the Chicago Sun-Times. Jeff lived in Detroit. His syndicate operated out of New York. But everything was moved through Chicago. Which didn't make sense, geographically, but that's the way it worked. Years later, Jeff — may he rest in peace — said that when he thought about present-day 18-year-olds, he marveled at the notion that I was running his office when I was just old enough to vote.

I have always been mature for my age.

In my 20s, I spent five years at the Chicago Tribune, a career path that began with me as part-timer in Sports and ended with me as a full-timer in Features. When I left the paper, I was helping out on five sections, four more than the one I was paid to work on. I work very efficiently. And I get bored. So I took on more and more duties to fill my days. I thought I was being smart and proving how valuable I was to the company. It never dawned on me that I was sealing my fate, as no one was in any hurry to promote me as I was fulfilling many needs for them in my current, self-expanded role.

But even if I knew that then, I still would have taken on the extra work.

I won't bore you with a complete rundown of everything I've ever done in the world of work. But I will say this:

I am the person who does what it takes to get the job done. I will come in early. I will stay late. I will skip lunch or go later. I will help folks find solutions to their problems.

Just this morning, a client wrote to ask if I could cover for her at her office today. No, unfortunately, I can't. Not in person. But, I offered, I can work remotely if that will help. As I write this, I am waiting for a project.

I am a word person in every way: I write. I edit. I proofread. I am very good at what I do. I get along well with pretty much everyone. Heck, I even bake treats for my clients and take them into the office.

All things being equal, don't you want to hire the person who makes sensational brownies?

Just yesterday, I heard this statistic: "By 2020, more than 40 percent of the American workforce, or 60 million people, will be freelancers, contractors and temp workers, according to a study conducted by software company Intuit."

We aren't a niche, we independent folks. We're on our way to being nearly half of the labor market, and soon.

Some folks are freelance by design. Others are freelance by necessity.

But "freelance" seems to have a stigma attached to it in the hiring world.

Which baffles me.

If a freelancer is applying for a job with your company, are they automatically disregarded as a candidate? In a world in which four in 10 people will soon be freelancers, aren't you writing off a huge pool of candidates if you're only looking at people who are leaving one full-time job for another full-time job, given that fewer and fewer people will have full-time jobs?

More than ever, the work world is very fluid. Long, long gone are the days of working with one company and retiring with a bad-sheet-cake send-off and a gold watch. Long gone are the days of longevity in any company.

The financial crisis of 2008 was a seismic shift in the world of work. Companies are making record profits and see little need to rehire, as fewer workers are now simply doing more work.

For now. That doesn't strike me as a "solution" that's sustainable.

All of which is to say, I'm worth meeting. My résumé may not be crammed with the software-searchable buzzwords of the moment.

But I'm smart. I'm creative. I'm personable. And I bake.

And if I'm applying for a job with your organization, it's because I truly believe I'll be a good fit.

But you need to discover that for yourselves.

So let's talk.

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Oh Maddow, My Maddow ...

I adore Rachel.

Adore her.

And today, I spent part of the afternoon with her. Just her, me, and about 995 other people.

In the charming Tivoli Theater in Downers Grove.

She's touring again now that Drift is out in paperback.

She is even more charming in person than she is on TV.

She could absolutely sell out venues doing snarky pundit stand-up. And she could denote a signature cocktail for the evening. And the profits from the booze could go to charity.

You know, when she's not busy being awesome on TV. Which is always.

But still, if she's ever in need of a post-TV career, snarky pundit stand-up could be her niche.

Which isn't to say her appearance was all snark. Far from it. It was delightful, thoughtful, playful, and erudite. Because that's who she is. But she got off a few good zingers, too.

The price of the ticket was really the price of the book plus a couple bucks thrown in for the venue, I suppose.

I already have a hardcover from the fall tour. I didn't see her on that tour, but a member of the family is in publishing and sent a signed copy to me.

And now I have the softcover from the spring tour.

And you know what I now know?

Rachel's hand is getting really tired.

Behold:

Hardcover signature


Softcover signature

I'm so pleased to have seen her live. And I'm so pleased that Doreen arrived early and saved a seat for me in the 4th row.

Oh, my Rachel. I love her even more now than I did this morning.

Update: Her appearance from Saturday in Downers Grove is on YouTube. You can watch Part 1 here and Part 2 here.

Snap Out Of It ...

Usually, I click on every column my friend Sheila posts. She's a fine writer and a woman of substance. Also, I love her addiction to seasonal Reese's peanut-butter shapes: pumpkins, trees, eggs. She likes their increased ratio of peanut butter to chocolate. Her last name is Quirke. Can you beat that? With a name like that, you know that adorable traits are baked right in.

Sheila and I went to high school together. And then we lost touch. And then Facebook happened and there she was, in the form of a Friend request. And we reconnected. And I was happy to hear from her. And I expected a typical, adult "this is what I've been up to" report. But no. At that point in her life, her daughter, Donna, was in hospice. And then Donna died.

And Sheila and I are now closer than we ever were in high school. And I usually click on every column she posts.

But I skipped over "I Blame Andy Cohen for the Downfall of Humanity." She'd made a reference to Bravo. I have no connection to Bravo. Andy who?

This morning, though, I read it. It was in my soon-to-be-no-more Google Reader, waiting. So I read. And I realized that my response to what she wrote was more than a comment on a Facebook page. It was a whole post.

And here we are.

First and foremost, let me say that I do not begrudge anyone their escapist TV if it gives them some measure of comfort while going through a difficult time. When your daughter is going through cancer treatment, honey, you go ahead and do whatever you need to do. So this is not judgment of that. Hell no.

This is something that's been on my mind for some time. As I wrote in the aforelinked post:

But kids. Really? "The Real Housewives of ... ":

... New Jersey ...

... New York City ...

... Miami ...

... DC ...

... Orange County ...

... Atlanta ...

and ... Beverly Hills?

Really?

And "Big Rich Texas" and "Toddlers and Tiaras" and "Jerseylicious" and "Jersey Shore"?

Why?

Just why?

What is the world gleaning from any of this?

For Sheila, it was escape in a difficult time. I totally get that.

But what about everyone else?

Why are they watching?

From a network perspective, I get the allure of reality TV. It's relatively cheap to produce and it brings in massive buckets of ad revenue. Reality TV makes for mighty fine balance sheets, I'm sure.

But from the viewers' perspective, I see it as a diversion.

I'm not saying every hour spent watching television should be spent on NOVA or C-SPAN.

But seven – or are there now more? – "Real Housewives" shows alone?

It's the modern-day "circuses" in "bread and circuses."

Forty-four million Americans – give or take a million – don't have health insurance. Millions of Americans don't have jobs. People are losing their homes. Our infrastructure is crumbling. Our planet is suffocating. Storms of all kinds are increasing in ferocity and frequency. Hurricanes. Tornadoes. Wildfires. Droughts. Oil spills are destroying ecosystems. Children are being massacred by assault weapons. Iran and North Korea and Syria are crises waiting to happen. Or are happening, if you live there. We're still at war. We spend more money on our military than the next largest 17 countries combined but we can't even talk about touching that budget. No, instead, we have to kick kids off of Head Start and slash education funding. Those who write our laws won't close tax loopholes on the rich if there's a way to take money from budgets for social services. Unions are busted. Corporations are now people, my friend. Republicans have succeeded in bringing Washington to a grinding halt.

I could go on. But I think you get the idea.

My concern isn't that folks are watching an hour of "The Real Housewives of Wherever" as a means to escape all the "too much"-ness in the world but then getting down to the business of doing their part to make the world a better place. My concern is that folks are watching an hour of "The Real Housewives of Wherever" and then watching another hour of "The Real Housewives of Wherever." And then "Here Comes Honey Boo Boo." And then "Toddlers and Tiaras." And then "Dance Moms." And then whatever show has been dreamt up in the last 10 minutes. (Kudos to "SNL" for this Bravo spoof. "Then on Sundays, for one minute ... .")

And my further concern is that those same folks are not watching the news. Or reading a newspaper. Or talking with their neighbors. Or going to vote.

Or worse: going to vote. If you're going to cast ballots blindly, I'd rather that you just stay home.

Sheila's a very smart woman. And she's more involved than most. I'm not worried about her consumption of fluff. But I am worried about others', generally.

I've often mentioned "Idiocracy" to family and friends. I've mentioned it here, too. It's set 500 years in the future. Society has become very, very, very dumb. The most popular show on TV is "Ow! My Balls!"

You know what it reminds me of?

"Wipeout" on ABC. (Update: Behold the value of education. A friend writes: "Wipeout is a cheap knockoff of Japanese game shows from the 1980's and '90's such as 'Takeshi's Castle'. Not quite highbrow stuff, but at least there is a goal and a payoff. If you want 'Ow! My Balls!', turn over to MTV for 'Ridiculousness'. ... I'm telling you that show is both retarded and retarding.")

And why did the society in "Idiocracy" become so dumb? Because smart people waited to have children and so had fewer or weren't able to have any while stupid people procreated like rabbits. (You'll remember that erstwhile presidential candidate Rick Santorum said birth control is not OK.)

It's a diversion, this steady diet of televised crap. And the really, really rich people are perfectly happy to have folks watch a bunch of Botoxed women scream at each other and Honey Boo Boo slurp her go-go juice while they gamble with the world economy and threaten catastrophe unless taxpayers to bail them out, buy our elected officials, decimate our election process, bust our unions, and take control of everything.

Kids, ExxonMobil made $41 billion dollars last year while you paid $4 a gallon for gas.

And it's cleaning up the tar-sands oil spill in Mayflower, Arkansas with paper towels.

So, please. Turn off the crap on TV.

Networks make what people watch.

That's not Andy Cohen's fault.

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Not For The Faint Of Palate ...

A friend came by for dinner last night. His wife is out of town and we hadn't seen each other in a while, so he popped by and we had a casual meal. Well, as casual as a meal can be when it's accompanied by a bottle of Champagne. But we once enjoyed Champagne with Chinese food, and really, there's no food that doesn't pair well with Champagne. So there we were.

This friend – I'll call him Dave, because his name is Dave – and I share a fondness for an olive nosh which his wife would rather not enjoy. So, since she was unable to make last night's festivities, Dave and I olived it up.

I made it up many years ago, if "made up" applies to throwing a few ingredients into a bowl that everyone in the world would think to pair together. But in my little corner of the world, at least, no one had, so for the purposes of that first occasion of serving it, it was new.

In fact, folks have told me I should sell this particular concoction, but I don't think it would have a pleasant life on a shelf, even in vacuum-sealed jars. I think it's best made fresh, just a little bit in advance, to allow the flavors to meld.

If you'd like to try it, this is what you do:

1. Buy a jar of pitted kalamata olives. I buy Peloponnese because, well, that's what I buy. I buy them pitted because I don't like spitting olive pits into my hand and dropping them onto my plate. Also, I like not having to remember to tell folks that the olives they're about to eat contain pits and I like not having to think about them possibly cracking a tooth. So buy pitted olives. Or don't. But you've been warned.

2. Drain the brine and dump the olives into a bowl.

3. Give 'em a good douse with extra-virgin olive oil. Yes, I know it seems weird to pour olive oil onto olives. Just work with me here.

4. Peel a few – or more – cloves of garlic and put 'em through a garlic press and into the bowl with the olives and oil.

5. Dump some dried thyme into the palm of one hand and use the palm of your other hand to rub the thyme and dump it into the bowl with the olives and oil and garlic.

6. Stir it all together, cover it, and let it sit around for a while until your guests arrive. If that's in the near future, just leave the bowl on the counter. If that's a way away, put the bowl in the fridge and then pull it out enough in advance to let the mixture come up to room temp before serving. The flavor is better that way.



Oh, and speaking of strong flavors, if I've never mentioned, I carry packets of Grey Poupon in my purse. Yes, really. You'd be surprised how many restaurants don't carry it. Which is pathetic. Because, really, how much can a box of Poupon packets cost?



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Roasted asparagus for lunch!

Really, Jayson? Really? Part VIII ...

Well, this has become a bit of a cottage industry, hasn't it?

I think I'll need to take a Jayson break after this, but I saw a few non-pillow items yesterday that are really worthy of attention, so if you'll indulge me one more time ... .

Now, I don't understand the phenomenon of hanging faux animal heads on walls. Articulated cardboard or papier-mâché or wicker. The material doesn't matter. They all strike me as odd. But odder still is why someone would spend $650 on something that – let's face it – is going to become tiresome in about 27 seconds. Jayson must have thought of that, because it also offers a small faux bull head to complement the large faux bull head. And that one is only $175.


Toro Bullhead - Large – $650


Toro Bullhead - Small – $175

The oddness subsided for a moment when I realized that someone could buy these and create a grouping on a wall, a la those stick-figure decals in the back windows of minivans that denote the members of a family. Of course, given that Jayson only offers bulls, this idea would really only work for a gay couple with sons. Allow me to illustrate my brilliant idea:



Next up, the Waris Side Table, which caught my eye for its odd base (as my mom would say, "Who wants to dust all that?") and its pricey price tag. Also, whenever I read the name of it, I keep thinking, "Doctor Who." But no, that's TARDIS. (Disclaimer: I am not a "Doctor Who" fan. I just have a working knowledge of pop culture.)


Waris Side Table – $1,495

This number caught my eye because of its name. Clem. Because who among us does not see the name Clem and think "brass-clad table"? For $695? Also, I'm amused that it's listed as a hexagonal cube. Jaysonfolk, you might want to look up the definition of "cube."


Clem Table – $695

And lastly, the Chest Tray. It's 4 1/2" x 6 1/2". It's $66. It features a decoupaged vintage image. I am unsure of its intended audience. Men who might be feeling a little less than ripped but who can be grateful that, unlike this guy, their nipples are centered? Or women who like a little vintage decoupaged beefcake to hold jewelry or soap? Because if the intention was the latter, I gotta tell you, Jayson, you'd probably move more of these $66 numbers if you used a current image of Ryan Reynolds. Or Ryan Gosling. (But not Ryan O'Neal.)


Chest Tray – $66

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Really, Jayson? Really?: Special Pillow Edition ...

I love a good pillow. I do. I'm not that person with 20 of them piled on my bed, for two reasons: 1) I'd find it far too annoying to take them off each night and put them back each morning. They'd just live in a pile on my floor. And 2) Because I can't find that many pillows that I like. Which is just as well, because, well, see 1).

But I appreciate dec pillows for the bit of flair that they bring to to room. Yes, I know most men could give a rat's ass – unless the pillow is shaped like a football or comes in screaming team colors – but for those of us, both female and male, who appreciate a bit of polish, pillows are good.

Like I said, though, I can't find pillows that I like. Hell, I can't even find fabric that I like. I made one pillow for a chair and I'd make more if I could find the right fabrics. But I wander around fabric stores for what feels like 40 years and end up with nothing.

On the pillow continuum, then, I fall very much toward the one-off, arty side rather than the boring, 50%-off-at-Kohl's side, but I have my limits.

As you may have guessed, Jayson has pushed me to them.

I wasn't planning on doing a whole pillow post, but the further I delved into Jayson's pillow offerings, the more incredulous I became. And so here we are, me venting my overpriced-pillow spleen and you, no doubt, thinking, "Wow, Beth. I'd hate to see how upset you'd get about something important. Like warm beer."

Well, we all have our crosses to bear.

Ready then? Good.

This was the first pillow that caught my attention. Subtle, no? I gotta say, I'm pretty sure that no one who would be inclined to have a marijuana-motifed pillow in the house would be inclined to drop $295 on it. Think of all the Cheetos $295 would buy. (Yes, Jayson calls it "hemp." And it's made from hemp. But we all know that no one is going to walk into someone's home and say, "Hey, nice hemp pillow." Everyone is going to look around for the bong.)


Hemp Leaf Pillow – $295

In the event that your neighbors might cancel the kids' play dates if they see that you're sporting a pot pillow in your living room, perhaps you might prefer this bison number. Nothing pretties up a space like the head of a bison.


Bison Pillow – $350

What's that? You're in the market for something more expensive yet less practical? Well, you've come to the right place!


Bruna Bolster Pillow – $595

If you're wondering what makes this next pillow worth $450, I have two words for you: nubbly texture. That's right: nubbly. It's handwoven from "luxurious 100% natural llama wool." One-hundred percent natural, kids. Because synthetic llama wool is just tacky.


Beecher Pillow – $450

Now then: How many times has this happened to you? You're in a store, looking for decorative pillows, and you lament, "I just can't find a pillow that looks like the severed head of Phyllis Diller." Well, kids, Jayson's heard your cries. Now it can be yours. For less than $500.


Eve Feather Pillow – $475

And for those of you who might want something slightly more expensive and slightly more gaudy but still in the feather family, may I suggest ... ?


Gold Feather Pillow – $495

And lastly, pillows I would actually buy. If they weren't $495. Each. The site says "Starting at $495," but I don't see that one is more expensive than the other. Happily, black and brown are both the same overpriced price.


Greek Key Pillows – Starting at $495

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A Very Tiny Sign Of Spring ...

The 'Really, Jayson? Really?' To End All 'Really, Jayson? Reallys.' ...

Yes, I know that "Reallys" is not a word. Just go with it.

Because holy mother of God on a pointy stick, when the latest email from Jayson landed in my inbox, I nearly hurled something across the room.


Astier de Villatte Candles - Starting at $83

Eighty-three dollars?! Starting at 83 freakin' dollars?!

It's a candle.

It's a 3.5" x 4" candle.

I don't care if it's made of vegetable wax.

I don't care if has a cotton wick.

I don't care if it's "inspired by worldwide locations and destinations both visited and imagined." No, wait. I do care, because what the hell does that even mean?!

I wouldn't pay $83 for a candle if it was the size of bucket.

I wouldn't pay $83 for a candle if it could tell me I looked beautiful and offered to buy me dinner.

I want to go to Jayson and lurk in the store and wait for anyone – any individual, sane person in the city of Chicago or the freakin' tri-state area – to walk up to one of those candles, pick it up, take a whiff, flip it over, see a price tag that reads $83, and then register a look of "Yeah, OK" and head to the desk to pay for it.

I want to see where that person lives. I want to understand how anyone in their right mind is going to spend $83 on a candle, the scent of which may be inspired by "worldwide locations and destinations both visited and imagined."

One of the inspirations appears to be the "visited" location of ... wait for it ... wait for it a second longer ... Alcatraz.

Ooh. So your home can either smell of a long-ago-decomissioned island prison or a village in the eastern part of the island of Maio, which, Wikipedia tells us, has a "dry desert climate and it receives little or no precipitation annually. Farmlands are nearly unavailable and ... its soil colour ranges from yellow-brown to red."

Gee, I can't decide which would be more alluring: the aroma of a desolate prison or the aroma of an arid island where the soil resembles nothing you'd want to see in a toilet.

Really, Jayson? Really?

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Good Times, April Edition ...

The April cookie installment for the angelo:HOME blog features Wee Biscuits with Honey Glaze. Yes, you're right. They're not cookies, per se. But there's a sweet story behind them.

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A Good Day At Goodwill ...

I really should schmy on Wednesdays.

It's much more pleasant to poke around Goodwill on a Wednesday afternoon than to endure the shopping-cart traffic jams that occur on a Saturday. I don't take a cart, mind you. I never buy enough to warrant the use of a cart. But still, it's more pleasant to be able to linger and look without feeling crowded or rushed.

I spend the bulk of my time in the dishes and glassware aisle. One never knows what one will find crammed onto those shelves. But I always take a pass down the adjacent assorted plastic junk and metalware aisle. There is usually a lot less to see, since I only glance at the metalware side. I'd wager that we all own more than our fair shares of plastic junk.

Typically, I leave that aisle empty-handed. But some days, there's a gem. Today was one of those days.

Ain't she grand?


I nabbed this piece of silver – Is it a tray? Is it a dish? – for $4, less 15 percent, plus tax. Whatever that added up to (I bought a few other things, too), she was a steal.


I'm a fan of tarnish, though this tarnish is a bit of a mess. What is going on in the field here?


But I tried a bit of polish on her underside and while it'll require a bit of elbow grease, she'll polish up just fine. And then I can let her tarnish again, evenly.


It wasn't until I got her home that I noticed that part of the rim was bent down. So I folded up a paper towel (to protect the metal) and grabbed a pair of pliers and started bending gently – et voila! – now her little flaw is all better.

She may end up with a friend. She may stay here with me. I think she'd be terribly handy on the table by the front door to hold my phone and keys and sunglasses and such. We shall see.

A lot of charm for four bucks.

Easter, Social Edition ...

I don't observe Easter religiously.

I, do, however, observe it culinarily.

No colored eggs nor jelly beans. But Easter dinner? (Eaten at 2 p.m.?) You betcha!

Mom is a superlative menu planner. So yesterday we had a beauteous leg of lamb crowned with panko and parsley and garlic which was roasted to a lovely medium rare, and the unexpected appearance of Polish sausage, a nod to my father's upbringing and a supplemental meat, in case an eight-pound boned leg of lamb might not be enough for four people. (Yes, there were significant leftovers.)

She also made a caramelized onion and Swiss tart, though the recipe may call for Gruyere. Same effect, no need to pay Gruyere prices. And roasted asparagus — drizzled with olive oil, pre-roasting, and subjected to a good grinding of salt — that was generously sprinkled with freshly grated Parmesan and then returned to the oven for a minute for the purposes of melting the cheese.

And adorable little Yukon Gold potatoes that were boiled whole, skins on, then lightly smashed and tossed with butter and salt. And a beautiful, crisp green salad – let me tell you about my love of English cucumber, skin on, too – that got a bit of short shrift in the company of all the other dishes, but it made it onto most of our plates as a last course.

Dessert was dishes of really terrific orange sherbet, not at all the gritty, icy kind you may have had, but smooth and creamy like ice cream, along with brownies, my sole food contribution to the day. After cutting several and placing them on a plate, I inadvertently stuck my little finger into the frosting near the edge of the pan, so I cut a narrow strip, cut out the bite-sized damaged section, popped it in my mouth, and found myself saying, "Oh my God, someone should propose to me, these are so good."

I do not normally compliment my own baked goods to such a degree, but that pan of brownies turned out exceptionally well. I wisely left the balance of them at my parents' house. Several of their neighbors are brownie fans.

And the afternoon ended without a proposal, which was to be expected, as I was having dinner with my parents and one of my brothers.

I didn't eat again until 2:30 this afternoon. You know a meal was spectacular when it leaves you satisfied for 24 hours.

Though we really should enjoy lamb more often.

Different ...

As of yesterday, my word for the remainder of 2013 is ...

Oatmeal Cookies Revisited Revisited ...

I don't usually go for the solo-cookie shot but too many oatmeal cookies in the same vicinity look like a sea of lumpiness.

Beware The Baccalaureate ...

Maybe it's just me.

But I'm pretty sure it's not just me.

As our economy improves (ostensibly), as the dust settles from the crash of 2008 and we can survey the new landscape, I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one wondering what new world we're living in.

It sure as hell ain't brave. I know that much.

Yesterday, I read this piece: "Why a BA is Now a Ticket to A Job in a Coffee Shop," and I reflected fondly upon that time in my life when I was about to leave the comfort of college and enter the real world.

The job market in 1991 was reasonably crappy, just as the job market is now.

And I was graduating with a degree in English.

Friends and family, making graduation-season small talk, asked, "What are you going to do with that?"

I'd deadpan: "Park cars."

Of course, I don't actually park cars.

People park their cars themselves. And insert tickets into boxes and chase those tickets with credit cards. I couldn't even get a job as a cashier in a parking garage. Those jobs are gone, too.

But I had no real fear back in the day. A bit of "What lies ahead?" trepidation, sure. But all through college, my English professors helpfully reminded me at every turn that an English degree was a valuable degree because there would always be a need for folks who can express themselves well and who can help others express themselves well, too.

Oh, really?

That may have been true in the late '80s and early '90s, when 2400-baud modems were the rage, when floppy disks would have fit neatly into album covers.

But that was then.

The '90s soldiered on. I took a job at the Chicago Tribune in 1992. In Sports. My thinking was that I'd stick it out for six months or so, slap another name-brand entry on my résumé – along with the Chicago Sun-Times and Chicago magazine – and then get a "real" job.

That was the time when folks were starting to make noise about the disappearance of newspapers. Never mind that the World Wide Web was still something I had to access through AOL. There was a whiff of change in the air.

One day, perhaps during an interview, perhaps casually, Bill Kurtis and I talked about the future of newspapers. Bill, of course, is famous for the television side of news, but he was convinced that newspapers were here to stay for a long, long time. "You can't take your laptop on the 'L'," he said.

And he was right.

At the time.

And maybe no one ever did take their laptops on the "L," but now nobody needs to; they have their smart phones and tablets instead. Far more convenient than a laptop, ridiculously less cumbersome than a newspaper, all the information you could ever want or need in the palm of your hand.

And therein lies my realization this week: The Internet is a great thing in many ways, assuming that folks are able to separate the worthy wheat from the glut of chaff. But giving everyone a platform to publish has also severely devalued those who make their living from words.

"The world has become more casual," I said to a friend earlier this week. And that's a good thing in a lot of ways. Though I really do think more men should return to the custom of wearing hats.

But with the speed and proliferation of information and opinion – and worse, the culture of texting – the rules for language have become far more lax.

And more and more people who in the past might have paid for a writer or a proofreader or an editor don't seem to have the same level of concern about written collateral or they now seem to expect word people to work for free. Or for next to nothing.

I think it's worse to be offered a penny a word than nothing at all. With an offer of nothing, at least we can delude ourselves into thinking we're offering our work pro bono. But a penny a word doesn't come off as "It's not much but we wanted to pay you something for your efforts" appreciation, it just comes off as "You should feel lucky we're willing to pay you anything at all" insulting.

And yet, I see so much money in the world. Not oil- and computing-billionaire money. That's another stratosphere of wealth I can barely begin to comprehend.

But this morning, I read a piece in New York magazine about Matt Lauer. I already knew he signed a contract for $25 million a year. I didn't realize that he works four days a week. (I don't watch "Today.")

And I spent a minute doing the rough math.

Let's say Matt takes two weeks off a year. I'm sure he takes more time than that, but it works well for my rudimentary math skills.

So, $25 million a year for 50 weeks of work.

That's $500,000 a week.

He works four days a week.

That's $125,000 a day.

I don't know how many hours he's on the air each day or how many hours he's at the studio before he goes on the air or how many hours he stays after he signs off. So I can't figure an actual hourly rate, but still: $125,000 a day. That's more than most people make in a year. And he makes it in a day.

Just for kicks, let's presume he puts in an eight-hour day, pre-show, show, and post-show.

That works out to $15,625 an hour.

Nice work if you can get it.

Granted, "Today" also once brought in $500,000,000 of ad revenue for NBC each year, so of course the talent who helps attract that kind of money should be rewarded.

But $125,000 a day?

Or worse, reality-TV stars who make $150,000 an episode. For what, exactly? Getting drunk? At least Matt Lauer has skills to which we can assign value.

Meanwhile, kids today are racking up massive debt – or their parents are shelling out massive amounts of money – to earn a degree with less and less promise that they'll find jobs that enable them to pay their own living expenses, let alone pay back the loans.

Last fall, a College Board report revealed that a "moderate" college budget for an in-state public college for the 2012–2013 academic year averaged $22,261. A moderate budget at a private college averaged $43,289.

Let's assume those numbers stay stagnant for four years. Which won't happen, but let's pretend.

$22,261 x 4 = $89,044

$43,289 x 4 = $173,156

And remember that budgets for education assistance are shrinking, not growing. So even those who can afford to go to college will emerge with debt equivalent, for many people, to the mortgage on a home.

Which takes us back to the story about a BA being a ticket to working in a coffee shop.

Not that there's anything wrong with working a coffee shop. The people at my local Starbucks are really nice. But I'm guessing the college graduates among them didn't pursue four-year degrees with the intention of donning green aprons once they took off their commencement robes.

Of course, there are kids getting word this week of their acceptances into schools who will go to those schools, learn many useful things, and embark upon fulfilling careers. (College is great for a lot of folks. I don't want untrained "engineers" designing our bridges.)

And then there are all the kids who won't.

There was never any question that I was going to go to college. Not because I had a burning desire to get a college degree but because it was simply expected of my brothers and myself.

And I appreciate that my parents placed so much value on education.

One brother is working in a field somewhat related to his degree.

The other brother is working in a field in no way related to his degrees.

And me? With my "You'll always be in demand" degree in English?

Well, I spend a lot of time baking cookies. And one day, I might even make money at that. And I will surely have really well written and really well proofread printed materials for my business.

But in the meantime, finding word clients who have any inclination to pay a living rate?

Difficult. It's really difficult.

As for the "real" jobs? The name brands on my résumé signal to some that they can't afford me. Others presume I'll get bored and move on. Interviews are elusive.

Mind you, I don't regret any of the jobs I've had. I've met some of the most amazing people in those positions.

But there are paradigms shifting all over the place.

And I need to work on my balance.

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Snickerdoodles Revisited Revisited ...

The snickerdoodles needed a new glamour shot. And this grey day needed a little cinnamon-sugary oomph.

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Really, Jayson? Really? Part VII ...

I've become a bit of a Jayson junkie. It's not all Jayson's fault. But when I poke through shelter magazines and see simple forms at ridiculous prices, I think of Jayson all over again. Perhaps I'll start doing round-ups of asinine pricing elsewhere. But today is another Jayson day.

This was the item that inspired this post. It's from Belgium, not France, for a change. But when I saw the price — $2,995 — I thought, "Huh. That doesn't seem like a lot of money for the Ark of the Covenant."

Yes, I know it's not exactly the same as what we saw in "Raiders of the Lost Ark," but that's what it calls to mind. For me.


Antique Carved Sideboard – $2,995

And then I saw this table. This faux-tusk table. On a Lucite base. From Paris, just in case you were under the impression that all things from Paris were obviously Parisian. Then again, around the middle of the 20th Century, maybe this was obviously Parisian. Or maybe somebody set out to make a table after imbibing a little too much absinthe. But no matter your positions on faux tusks and Lucite, I think we can all agree that $11,995 is pretty spectacular. Though not in a good way.


Vintage Faux Tusk Table – $11,995

And lastly, a castle door. An antique castle door. Salvaged from a Dutch castle. In Holland, of all places! There are two available, in case you have door frame that's 88" w x 142" h. And door jambs made out of, I dunno, steel beams?


Antique Castle Door – $4,995, set of two available, priced individually

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Sunday-Morning Griping: HGTV Edition ...

There is snow on the way.

It is March 24th.

I've been in better moods.

But this post isn't about snow. (Yesterday's post was about snow.)

This post is borne out of a comment I left on a friend's Facebook page yesterday.

I wrote: "HGTV has become 20 hours of some version of 'House Hunters,' two hours of infomercials, and two hours of random bad shows made on the cheap. Any good programming that seeps onto that network is bought from Canada, it seems. Sad."

Which led me to plug this search phrase into Google: "remember when HGTV featured design shows".

Which led me to "Where have they all gone????", a message-board string discussing the disappearance of most of the shows that used to draw folks to HGTV.

You know where I found that message board?

On HGTV.com.

There are other, similar strings in the forum, too.

Which made me wonder:

a) ... if anyone who works for the network ever reads the message boards, or ...

b) ... if anyone who works for the network cares what viewers think.

Because it's right there, network types. Unsolicited feedback, free for the taking. No need to pay for focus groups. No need to pay anyone $100 for their time or even buy them dinner.

Now, granted, when I do happen to land on channel 229, I see plenty of advertisements, so perhaps the thinking is that so long as you're selling all the ad slots, there's no need to concern yourselves with what programming falls in between said ads.

If the goal is that narrow, you're achieving it.

But for what it's worth, there's a big contingent of fans out here who used to tune in who have given up because if you're not going to put in any effort, why should we?

You're like a 24-hour diner that used to have a great menu but that's started serving popcorn 20 hours a day instead because it's easy and cheap to produce.

I've mentioned similar things before. There was the post about the awful new format of "Design Star," so snarky as to border on mean. And then there was the post about the network simply not being anything like what it used to be.

But now, each day is programmed in giant blocks. It's really stupid. The occasional marathon weekend? Sure, why not. But programming every day in chucks of shows, thereby giving viewers who don't like a given show absolutely no reason to tune in for seven hours at a crack? How does that make sense? Even folks who love "House Hunters" probably aren't going to watch 14 episodes in a row.

Today's schedule is rather typical. It's not Sunday-specific.

Here's what's on deck for the day, from 7 a.m. today through 3:30 a.m. tomorrow. (Infomercials happen during the other few hours):

7 a.m. – 10 a.m.: Cousins on Call

10 a.m. – 11 a.m.: Flea Market Flip

11 a.m. – 12 p.m.: Property Brothers

12 p.m. – 1 p.m.: Love It or List It

1 p.m. – 8 p.m.: House Hunters and/or House Hunters International

8 p.m. – 9 p.m.: Extreme Homes

9 p.m. – 10 p.m.: Hawaii Life

10 p.m. – 12 a.m.: Reruns of House Hunters and/or House Hunters International that aired earlier in the day

12 a.m. – 1 a.m.: Reruns of Hawaii Life that aired during the evening of the previous in the day

1 a.m. – 3 a.m.: Reruns of House Hunters and/or House Hunters International that aired during the evening of the previous day

3 a.m. – 3:30 a.m.: Rerun of Extreme Homes than aired during the evening of the previous day

You see my point. I don't much care for "Cousins on Call," so I have no reason to tune in for the first three hours of the broadcast day. "Flea Market Flip" is stupid and a fine example of programming on the cheap. The winning contestants split $5,000. Oooh. "Property Brothers" and "Love It or List It" are overexposed. (But that hasn't prevented the appearance of "Buying and Selling" [aka "Property Brothers, The Sequel"] and "Love It or List It, Too," [quite literally "Love It or List It, The Sequel."]) My gripes about the entire "House Hunters" franchise are well known to readers of this blog. (In a nutshell, house hunters need to find something more to gripe about than the color of a room or the hardware on kitchen cabinets.) "Extreme Homes" is usually a dud for me. (Look, someone built a weird-shaped home in the middle of a field!) And "Hawaii Life" is "House Hunters" set in Hawaii. Seriously, HGTV, we don't want to see another show devoted to people looking at homes. Yes, I know they're cheap to produce. But you're driving away your audience.

Speaking of cheap to produce, I ran across a press release touting four new shows in 2013. They are:

– The aforementioned "Hawaii Life," which is relatable to almost no one.

– The aforementioned "Cousins on Call," which is fine when offered an episode at a time, but don't shove three hours of it in a row at viewers.

– "Scoring the Deal," which is "House Hunters" for rich sports dudes, which is less relatable than "Hawaii Life."

and

– "Spontaneous Construction, on tap to premiere in February, [which] will activate a 'task mob' to help homeowners who are struggling with a renovation project. By harnessing the power of email, Facebook, Twitter, Craigslist and others, host Ricky Paull Goldin recruits a massive group of dancing, flash-mobbing strangers. Carpenters, skilled laborers and helping hands join forces to create stunning renovations - and have a ton of fun along the way."

February has come and gone. I have seen no sign of "Spontaneous Construction" and I hope to God I don't. Has there ever been a more absurd premise for a show? If the description of your construction show contains the phrase "dancing, flash-mobbing strangers," something has already gone horribly, horribly wrong.

I can appreciate trying to develop a show that's interactive for viewers. That's what Rate My Space tried to be. (And by the way, y'all know I know Angelo, who used to be on HGTV's talent roster. Consider this full disclosure. This post has nothing to do with him.) But crowdsourcing a renovation? What the hell kind of stupid idea is that? Would you want a mob of strangers working on your house? What could possibly go wrong?

OK, the coffee's kicked in. I'm feeling much better now, much less gripe-y. But one last thought, HGTV, if you're reading (and I'm sure you're not): Enough with the fake drama that's injected into the shows. If I wanted to watch bitchy people, I'd tune into some "Real Housewives of ..." franchise or "Jerseylicious."

There's a reason I never tune into any "Real Housewives" franchise or "Jerseylicious."

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Winter Needs To Take A Nap ...

This photograph was taken on March 5.

We got quite a bit of snow that day. Enough to require two hours of shoveling the next morning. The shoveling was good exercise, sure, but there's something irksome about shoveling in March.

Still, I had a lot of baking to do that Tuesday and I was happy to be in my kitchen, oven warm, KitchenAid whirring, creating part of a birthday gift for a friend.

It was cozy, actually. The aroma of warm butter and sugar wafting through the house, the snow falling outside. Martha Stewart would have approved.

It was also still winter, technically. In my mind, winter is December, January, and February. In my mind, seasons divvy up by months. Not days. But fine. Spring was not due to arrive until this week.

And so it has arrived.

And tomorrow, we're due for another winter storm.

I've seen a couple of forecasts, a couple of estimates for inches of snow. One said 1-3. Well, that's manageable. Annoying but manageable. One, though, suggested 6-8. That one is based on a map supplied by Tom Skilling. Tom seems like a very nice guy, if a little too chatty for the allotted length of his segments, but the key point here about Tom is that he's rather legendary for his accuracy. Granted, weather will do what weather will do, but Tom hasn't been a weatherman for this many years raking in that many weatherman bucks for being wrong all the time. He's no Steve Martin in "L.A. Story."

And so, it's sunny at the moment. But tomorrow, more snow is supposed to arrive.

That vexes me. I'm terribly vexed.*

Winter, you had your turn. Did Mother Nature never teach you to share? Or can you not read a calendar? It's spring's turn now. You're overstaying your welcome, which is simply bad manners.

The coziness factor has waned. I actually want to do yard work. I want to cut the grass.

When I want to cut the grass, you know that winter has gone on too long.

I need to see something bloom, dammit.

* Yep, that's from Gladiator. I'm a Joaquin Phoenix fan.

As I Was Saying ...

A wee step masquerading as a monumental step.