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Showing posts from December, 2008

Happy 2009 -- Keep Your Head To The Sky

Happy New Year!

Well, 2008 is drawing to a close. What a year it was!

Barack Obama – who knew? A skinny kid with a funny name will become our 44th POTUS. I voted for him to be president of the Harvard Law Review. Who knew I would be voting for him for President of the United States? God is good, all the time!

On a sadder note, 2008 might be known as the Year the Laughter Died. We lost George Carlin and Bernie Mac. We also lost Isaac Hayes, too, even though he had stopped playing the role of “Chef” on Southpark a long time ago. Those Chef love songs used to make me so laugh so hard that I’d fall off my sofa.

We also lost all that was good and sexy from the 40’s and 50’s when we lost Eartha Kitt. My single girlfriends in Oakland would purr her famous line from “Boomerang” to our single guy friends just to mess with them: “Marrrrcuhhhhssss, I’m not wearing any pahhhhnnn—tieeees . . . .” And she’ll always be Catwoman to me, no apologies to Julie Newmar.

Although I wasn’t a Tim Russert acolyte…

Trusting My Instincts: No More Fire Turkeys

I'm more of a cookbook cook than a real cook. As the saying goes, "Good cooks never measure." I'm an okay cook. I measure.

But most recipes are, at best, a blueprint for your own creativity. And when that blueprint seems all "cattywhampus," as they say down South, I often fail to trust my instincts and just ignore the recipe.

For example, I'm always looking for a better turkey recipe. I didn't realize that there were many ways to make a turkey until my 30's. Then again, I never had to make a turkey until my 30's. I had been faithful to the Silver Palate Cookbook's recipe for roasting a turkey because it had delivered faithfully -- a succulent, if slightly bland, turkey. I then came to expect that no matter what you did to it, turkey was just plain bland.

Then I found an interesting recipe in Real Simple magazine for a turkey with molasses, butter, salt and pepper blended together and stuffed under the turkey's skin. What a cool idea! Th…

Wishing You A Cozy Christmas

There aren’t a lot of Wal-Mart commercials that tug at my heartstrings. This year, they got me.

You’ve probably seen the commercial with the three small kids sneaking out of bed in an attempt to catch Santa while their mom comments that she bought all of them new pajamas – for sleeping, that is.

Yeah, they got me.

When I was a kid, my mom would buy each of us six kids a robe, slippers, and pajamas for Christmas. As a small child, this gift was a predictable part of Christmas and not the most exciting. What five year-old gets excited about clothes for Christmas?

But as I got older, I came to appreciate the robe, slippers and pajamas because they represented coziness and warmth. Like a hug from my mom. As a older child, I would get ready for bed early just so I could put on my new nighttime togs and wiggle my toes in my new fuzzy slippers (hey, it was the 70’s – the slippers were always fuzzy). While I was in college, I would return to my drafty dorm room or apartment with my warm a…

Well, Hell, I've Got Some Shoes To Throw

An Iraqi journalist throws two shoes at the President as an insult, one of the highest insults in his culture. And the mainstream American press brands him "crazy."

The hell he is. If he's crazy, so am I.

First, what kind of punk-ass Secret Service do we have that anyone could get close enough to throw not one, but two shoes at the Leader of the Free World? I don't know who was on duty that day, but they need to be furloughed before the REAL President, Barack Obama, takes office. Those kinds of mistakes are not acceptable. Not at all.

However, if I had known that it was that easy to roll up on POTUS and show my discontent by throwing shoes, I, too, would have hurled some shoes. And I don't part with my shoes easily. But if it got the point across that this president, more than any in my recent 45 year-old memory, was a complete and total failure, then, yes, I would have hurled some shoes, too. For example:

* A pair of stack-heeled black pumps to the side of the head …

No Excuses: If You're a Woman, Buy A House

It represents a significant portion of my take-home pay, yet it’s a bill I couldn’t be happier to pay.

It’s my mortgage payment. My first.

I’m happy to pay it because I realize a lot of people can’t make their mortgage payments these days. I’m happy to pay it because it will relieve the tax burden BMNB and I face as DINKs. I’m happy to pay it because I love my house and my neighborhood.

If I had known I was going to love making a mortgage payment this much, I wouldn’t have waited until I was 45 years old to buy a house.

And so, this is my message to all the women who read my blog: Don’t wait until you are married to buy a house. And definitely don’t wait until you’re 45. Ideally, don’t wait past 30.

In the intervening years since I graduated law school, I’ve missed out on the wealth accumulation that appreciated home equity means. Even despite the last couple of wacky real estate market years, home ownership, although not a bullet-proof method of wealth acquisition, is a substantial one o…