Oh, what a beautiful morning...

No... not that kind of a beautiful morning. I just can't help but say the words "Oh, what a beautiful morning" without bursting into song. ... And when I sing that song, I think of Curly. And when I think of Curly, I think of Hugh. And then I have to share my thought process with you.

But it wasn't that kind of a beautiful morning. No sirree, no corn as high as an elephant's eye here in sunny AZ. I did, however, go to the store this morning and buy some live herbs. So, that's kind of like corn, in that they're actual food with roots in the ground. Except that instead of having a garden, I just have a plate with two little herb plants on it. But that's good enough for me.

Not that the herbs were the only beautiful part of my morning. Oh, no. I woke up this morning and started a batch of Solomon-esque spaghetti sauce. Yes, that's right, I said Solomon-esque. (Chris and I made dinner for Jo's birthday and I watched Christine re-create Ron's fabulous spaghetti sauce. There are no exact measurements, but I watched and I stirred and I tasted... and I'm quite confident that the batch of spaghetti sauce simmering on my stove is a close facsimile to the Ron Solomon original.) I'm giddy about the sauce. It smells so good here in my little house that I can hardly stand myself.

Also, I went to Barnes & Noble to get a copy of Little Women for my little friend Roomie's birthday party - and I found this.

I've been wanting to read this for a while, I just never got around to ordering it online. When I saw it there, nestled next to Little Women and the complete Jane Austen collection in the bargain classic section, I had to snatch it right up. As I was meandering back to the front of the store (I say meandering, because I'd so rather meander than walk a straight line, esp when I'm in a bookstore that smells of paper and coffee beans), there was announcement that Story Time was starting at 10:00 in the children's section. Story Time. .... Oh, how I love Story Time. If I didn't have spaghetti sauce simmering on the stove here at home, I'd have stayed for the story, I really would have. But alas, the sauce.

But as fabulous as finding out about Story Time was, that wasn't even the best part of the bookstore. As I was checking out, the cashier asked if the Oscar Wilde was for me. I, of course, answered that it was. She smiled and said she hoped I enjoyed it, then told me that Oscar Wilde is her favorite author. I told I was excited to read it, that I'd never read him before. She smiled and then said "I know this sounds a little morbid, but whenever I go to France, I take a book to the cemetery and read by his grave". Oh, my goodness. How fabulous is that? To me, that isn't morbid, it's beautiful. I can't think of a better way to pay homage to an author whom you love (and I told her so, because that's the kind of sappy reader/girl that I am).

Also, I'd like to know how Barnes & Noble employees can afford to go to France on a semi-regular basis. I need a new career plan, obviously. I wonder if B&N is hiring. I could totally read Story Time for them.

On my way out of the store, I almost ran smack into a fabulously good looking man. I should have invited him over for spaghetti, but instead, I just thanked him for holding the door open for me. (In retrospect, he most likely held the door because he was afraid I'd walk right into it. What can I say? I was ruminating about France and cemeteries and Story Time. I get a little caught up.) Anyway...

I love this day!

The End.

What Dreams May Come

As most of you who know me well can attest, I very rarely dream. Or, rather, I very rarely remember my dreams. I mean... VERY RARELY. Every once in a blue moon, I'll wake up with the tiniest trace of a memory of what I'd dreamt about... but I mean it, really, it's once in a blue moon that I wake up with even a trace. Unless my sleep cycle is thrown off. For some reason, when I'm woken up suddenly, I seem to wake up with more dream memories. Like, when I'm sick (*cough, cough*) and I can't seem to sleep through the night, my dreams come out in droves. Which translates into this last week being like a freak show free-for-all. And for some reason, I'm dreaming in TVLand this week. Get this.

Wednesday night - I kept waking up to cough. Also, because I was freaking myself out with all the gory murder details. Yeah, that's right, murder details. I was on the case with Beckett and Castle of the NYPD. No kidding, I was solving a murder with my friends Kate and Rick. All night long. ... And somehow Mr. Castle never got around to asking me to marry him. (The good news? We totally caught the bad guy.)

Thursday night - More coughing. Also, coughing. Oh, and I got to hang out with Michael Westen and Fi. Fi and I were totally building bombs. I don't remember why, but she was particularly mad at the bad guys and I had to talk her out of killing them. "Fi, just because someone made a bad call doesn't mean we have to shoot him, does it?" It turns out I'm not quite as unforgiving and hardass as I sometimes like to think I am - when push comes to shove, I'll back down from a bullet-fest. Humph.

Friday night - Again with the coughing. But instead of solving murders and/or stopping them... I was giving Gabrielle Soliz (yeah, from Desperate Housewives) a lecture on the importance of locking the windows/doors so people can't just walk into your house when you're not home.

I know, I know. I can't even explain the randomness here.

What do I hope I can dream about tonight? Uh... my new fav TV show and TV BF, The Mentalist.

Have you people seen this show, met this man? I think I'm in love. (And no, I'm not kidding this time. Not kidding one little bit.)

I can't believe I hadn't ever watched this show before now. It's come up at Sunday dinner a few times in the past couple months and I'd been told, all around, by the people who know me best, that I needed to check it out. Well, Jo's birthday was last Sunday and her fabulous husband bought her Season 1 for her special day. She invited me over to break it in on Wednesday, and well... the rest is history. I'm in love.

Speaking of how much I love this show/man... that reminds me of a text convo I had with Mr. Peterson earlier this week. Because I thought of it, because I'm hopped up on decongestants, and because I still have this text chain in my phone... I'm gonna share it with you all. (Lucky duckies.)

Me: Jo and I are watching Season 1 of The Mentalist. It's official, I have a new TV boyfriend. I do love that you knew I'd love this show...

J: Well, I love Van Pelt.

(J and I love to tell each other about our celeb crushes. We're tight like that.)

Me: You can have her. I'm in love with a man named Jane, and I don't care who knows it.

J: Yeah, I figured you would love him.

Me: You know me so well. Smart, semi-manipulative, FABULOUS hair... I have a type.

J: Wow. Sounds like you are describing me.

Me. Like I said, I have a type... ;-)

Uhm, yeah, I have a type. And right now, that type is Simon Baker. Holy hot-freak-a-moly, I love him in this show. ... I sure hope I can conjure up some good TV inspired dreams again tonight. (Preferably, the kind where I don't have to solve a murder, talk Fi down, and/or give Gabi a lecture on safety locks.)

I'm off to beddy-bye now, NyQuil and Kleenex with aloe in hand. Bottoms up, folks!

Movies you must watch.

If you haven't seen these - you must. If you have seen them, but it's been a while - for crying out loud, watch them again.

Honestly, I love these three movies. All for very different reasons, mind you. But I love them equally, nonetheless. (Kind of like how my parents love all 6 of us kids equally, but differently. Except these are movies and not children... But other than that, I'm pretty sure it's exactly the same kind of thing. I think.)

Anyway...

First off, let's have a little talk about Ocean's Eleven.

Oh, my heart, I love this movie. It has the best mix of RIDICULOUSLY GOOD LOOKING MEN (we all know how I feel about a man in a good suit, yes?) and some of the best witty dialogue of all time. Case in point, see the opening below.


Parole Board Member #1: Mr. Ocean, the purpose of this hearing is to determine, whether, if released, you are likely to break the law again. While this was your first conviction, you have been implicated, though never charged, in over a dozen other confidence tricks and frauds. What can you tell us about those?

Danny: As you say, ma'am, I was never charged.

Parole Board Member #2: Mr. Ocean, what we're trying to find out is was there a reason you chose to commit this crime, or was there a reason you simply got caught this time?
Danny: My wife left me. I was upset. I fell into a self-destructive pattern.

Parole Board Member #3: If released, is it likely you'd fall back into a similar pattern?

Danny: She already left me once. I don't think she'd do it again just for kicks.
Oh, my word, I love Danny Ocean. I. Love. Him. (And this movie.) The End.

Okay, and now we can have a talk about Return to Me.



Another movie that I simply adore. Why? Because the characters are so fabulous. From the grumpy, music loving old men, to the widower that makes my heart break... (Ahhh, David Duchovny. Be still, my beating heart.) Oh, my. I love this movie. It's one of the few movies that I know that can make me want to wail in despair (the scene with him and the dog, falling asleep by the door, kills me - and we all know that I am not even 10% dog person), but also can make me giggle with delight (the scene where she fills the bottle up with tap water? I LOVE IT!). Good gravy, I love this movie. I love it for the storyline, for the writing, for David Duchovny in jeans (can I get an "amen" to how good he looks the first time we see him on site at the zoo, people?). I love how sweet Minnie Driver's character is, how she rides her bike everywhere she goes. Good gravy, I love this movie!

And now let's bring up another all time fav - Runaway Bride.

Oh, this movie makes me laugh out loud. And, again, I love the characters. I like the main two characters, of course, but what I think makes this movie truly shine is the supporting cast. Not to mention, it has some of the best one-liners, EVER.

"I'm Peggy Flemming - not the ice skater."
"Wedding cake freezes, this we know."
"I have a fact for you, an actual fact."
This movie makes me laugh - it even makes me cry. And it always (ALWAYS) makes me happy that I know how I like my eggs. (Answer: I like eggs lots of ways, but over easy is my favorite - except for Benedict, which I think is really so much more about the Hollandaise than it is about the poached eggs.)

Seriously, people - these movies, I love them. If you haven't seen them, do. And if you need to invite me over, so you'll have me there to crack up and/or cry in the appropriate parts with you, by all means... invite me over. I'll bring a treat, even!

Good Friend + Good Food + Good TV = Happy Tuesday for Laurie!

So, last night I headed over to my friend Myra's house to watch Lost and eat cupcakes. It was pretty much the best night ever.

Okay, I'm kidding. But not about it being about the best night ever, that part was for real. I was kidding, in that I didn't go there to watch Lost and/or eat cupcakes. I went there because I love Myra, and any excuse to spend time with her is a good one. That she has cable (which, I sadly, do not) and that she'd made THE BEST CHOCOLATE CUPCAKES OF ALL TIME were just nice side benefits. (Not that I'd ever use My for food and/or TV, I'm just saying... nice benefits.) Also, watching Lost with My is infinitely more fun than it is to watch it alone. While I might have some snarky thoughts on my own, I sure wouldn't have said "Hmmm... Sawyer's had Kate up against a fence before" at the end of last night's episode. When Myra said that last night, with one eyebrow raised, I had to laugh out loud. (I mean, head thrown back, gut busting, LOL.) Truly, Tuesdays are more fun for me when I'm at Myra's.

Myra. She's fabulous. One of the best friends I've made since I've moved here, and I'm so glad I've had her in my life. I'll miss her like crazy when her family moves to wherever-it-is-they-end-up-going.

These chocolate cupcakes. They are to die for. I mean, this chocolate sheetcake recipe is pretty fan-freaking-tastic... but turning them into cupcakes really pumps them up a notch. The rich, gooey goodness of sheetcake turned into a cupcake - with this frosting? Oh my holy-thought-I-died-and-went-to-heaven. (You just can't beat chocolate cake so rich and moist that it sticks to your teeth when you take a bit of it.) DELISH!


Lost. It is, simply put, the best TV show of all time. (If you like to try and figure stuff out and/or stare at eye candy ala Sawyer, Dr. Jack, Desmond, and my boy Sayid.) If you haven't ever seen it, you should repent right now and head over to ABC.com. They have all episodes of all seasons for free right now. If you have 3 weeks or so and you don't have anything better to do, definitely check it out. (If you don't have 3 free weeks, I'd advise you not to get started until you do. This show's addicting like none other and I'd hate for you to... you know, miss out on your life, if you got sucked in by the pilot and you couldn't turn away. Yeah, it's that good.)


I love my friends. I love yummy chocolate treats. I love Lost (even though I can't figure it out to save my soul!). I love my life.

An Ode to Cousin Julie's Cinnamon Rolls

I love you so.

I love your sweet, bready goodness
And your not-too-sweet cinnamony flavor.
I love your icing, it is light and fluffy frosting heaven.

You could have raisins in you, and I'd still eat you.
When you have chopped pecans inside you, I love you best.
Craisins and orange peel make you irresistible.
(As does caramel ice cream topping.)
No other cinnamon rolls are as fabulous as you are.
(Yes, I'm counting Cinnabon when I say that.)

I love you warm, with extra icing.

I love you cold, with extra icing, too.

Basically, I just love you.

So much.

Awh.... Becca's getting married!

So, I'm headed to Utah this morning to see my sweet cousin, Becca, tie the knot. I so love her. (And for the record, I'm going because she's my cousin-friend and I love her, not because she and/or her new husband may have single male friends over the age of 30 that I can scam on at the reception. Seriously.)