Cleanliness is next to Godliness

Okay, so I don't know if these little guys actually keep my toilet that much cleaner than it would be, but I'll tell you one thing... they make my bathroom smell clean, and that's good enough for me.

Not having kids in the house, I can keep one of these little guys alive for about 2 weeks at a time. Every single time I flush my toilet, the bowl fills with semi-bubbly water that smells like cleanser. It's pretty much like Christmas. I love them!

I will admit that it took me a while to figure out how to dispense those little gel buds, but that's the one and only complaint I've had about this product. I heart the smell of cleanser, because it tricks me into thinking I just cleaned my bathroom (which is so clearly not the case - anyone who's ever seen my counter top and/or mirror could tell you that a true down & dirty, top to bottom cleaning happens about once in a blue moon). I love the little bubbles, because they make me think my toilet's super clean. Pretty much, this is the most happiness $6 in the cleanser aisle can buy a girl.

Go forth, go shopping, buy these. I'm pretty sure that you will love them.

*And if you buy them based on this review and then end up hating their guts, please know that you can hand your left-over product over to me and I'll enjoy them for you. So, you see, it's pretty much win/win (for me, anyway).

Sabrina: A Study

Over the weekend, I decided to watch both Sabrina movies, back to back, to do a little contrast/comparison study. (You know me, I'm so scientific.) I love them both. This is what I found:

I love the old movie, because I remember watching it as a kid. I was mesmerized by the wrist flip egg cracking routine. (Which I can do, by the way, in both hands at the same time. I'm somewhat of a kitchen wunderkind, I know.) I love La Vie en Rose, the way the melody is in the background through much of the film makes my heart happy. Audrey Hepburn is a beautiful thing. Her clothes, her hair, her skinny little legs and her long elegant neck. Her ball gown ("with yards of skirt") blows my freaking mind. Oh my goodness, she must have had so much fun wearing the clothes for this movie. Honestly, it's beautiful. If I thought I could get away with black leggings and a wide-collared coat, I'd so wear them. (Don't worry, I know I can't get away with that and will not be appearing in public ala Audrey anytime soon. But still, the wardrobe? Fabulous.)

I love the new movie, because it's a refreshing remake of classic. Familiar enough to pay homage to the original, but new and fresh and updated. Julia Ormond's makeover-by-haircut makes me want to bob my hair. The only thing that keeps me from whacking my hair off at my ears is the knowledge that it'd take a whale of a lot more than a sincere haircut and some dark lipstick to turn me into a supermodel. (Well... that, and if I did cut my hair and then found out I had cancer, I wouldn't have enough hair left on my head to have a wig made of my own hair. And that's always been a dream of mine.) I love music in the new movie as well. John Williams is a freaking genius, and I love that he wrote the theme. (It's gorgeous.) I love the voice overs at the beginning and end of the movie. I love Linus telling Mr. Fairchild "I need her, and I don't need anything".



At the end of the day, I love both movies. Truly, madly and deeply, I love both movies. The newer movie is funnier, in a dry hi-my-name's-Linus-Larrabee-and-I'm-rich-but-hilarious sort of way. (I do love the scene when they're getting ready for the party and a dog runs out of the house and Linus asks "What was that?". David replies "It's a dog". Linus's deadpan response, "Why?". It slays me. I mean, laugh out loud slays me. I could marry him for that quip alone.) The newer version has richer character development. I believe Linus when he tells Sabrina that she knows him better than anyone else. I love that she gets him to eat with his fingers, and that she tells him point-blank what people say about him. I love that he really does donate his property to be a half-way house. Ahhhh, Linus. I love him!

These are good movies. I love them! I'm so grateful for a mom who loves a good story, and who instilled in me a love of a well-told story, whether that story is in print or film. ... Sometimes I wish my dad had been a chauffeur and I was his only daughter, but then I remember that Harrison Ford probably wouldn't have lived in the big house next door, anyway, and then I go back to be grateful for the home I did grow up in and the life I have. :-)

If you aren't familiar with Sabrina, I think you should be. Call me if you need to borrow one or the other. Heaven only knows I could spare to loan out a movie or two from time to time...

Here I raise my Ebenezer...

I've had this song in my head all morning. Of all the songs in all the world to have stuck in my head, I'd like to go on record as having said that this is, in my opinion, one of the ten best songs of all time to have playing on repeat. I love this song - it brings me peace, and joy. It reminds me that I need to look more often to the Lord, to fetter my will to His. The music is beautiful, but the lyrics... well, they're scripture, and they speak to my very soul.

Here I raise my Ebenezer; hither by Thy help I've come; and I hope, by Thy good pleasure, safely to arrive at home.

Oh my goodness gracious, I love this song!

I'm sending this out into the universe...

Has anyone seen my copy of North & South? I'm pretty sure I loaned it to a friend (because we all know I'm all in favor of sharing the cinematic wealth when I find something as fabulous as Mr. Thornton), but for the life of me, I can't think of where it might be (or, rather, whose house it might be in).

So... if any of you faithful blog stalkers o' mine have my dvd, please know there will be no negative impact on our friendship status if you have this on your movie shelf. (If you're like me, you probably put it in a safe place and then forgot you had it. I've done that - oh, I don't even know how many times.) I only ask, plead and/or beg of you to return it. And soon. (Feel free to leave it on my porch if you don't want me to know who you are. I don't care if it's returned anonymously. I just want it back, safe and sound.)

I need a little Mr. Thornton in my life. Badly.


Can you blame me?

Christopher Timothy Robin

So, here's a funny story for you.

Years ago, when I was working for Ye Old Central Bank, I had the blessed privilege of interacting with a wide variety of tough guys - otherwise known as Wells Fargo Men. (Now they're Loomis, but back then, they were Wells Fargo, and let me tell you, they were a treat and a half.) Because of the size of our coin shipments, both in and out of the bank, we had some real characters who'd make deliveries to and from the bank. One of my personal favorite delivery guys was Thor. (Yeah, Thor, as in the God of Thunder.) Thor was built like a friggin brick wall. I'm not even kidding you. He was just barely taller than me, but his shoulders were, I swear, about 4 feet wide. He had the most incredible square jaw, and the highlight of my week was when he'd make the coin delivery and I could watch him throw quarters. (I know, I'm so shallow.) He could palm a box of quarters, people. It was impressive...

Anyway, Thor. Thor was an amazing specimen of humanity. And he was nice enough, but he wasn't much of a conversationalist. He'd come in, deliver my coin, grunt a hello and/or good-bye, and then he'd be gone for a week. One day, he came in and as I was signing the manifest, he surprised me by asking if I was a fan of Winnie-the-Pooh. Weird, right? This is how it went down...

Thor: So, you must really like Winnie-the-Pooh?
Me: Uhm... I guess. The books more than the movie, but yeah.
Thor: That's what I figured. A. A. Milne's Pooh, not Disney's.
Me: Uhhh... yeah.
(insert awkward silence here - I was so confused as to where this was coming from)
Me: But how would you know that? What made you ask?
Thor: Christopher Timothy Robin (nodding toward my hand)
Me: Huh?
Thor: Your ring.
Me: What?
Thor: C-T-R ... Christopher Timothy Robin
Me: ... silence
Thor: I've never seen a ring like that, so I'm just guessing that's what it stands for.
Me: ... more silence - utter confusion (I mean, we were in UTAH, for goodness sake, land of the CTR ring wearing public, and he'd never noticed one before?)
Thor: Anyway... I just thought it was cool.
Me: Yeah. Well... thanks.
Thor: They're really good books.

And then he left, amazingly enough, never to come back. I still don't know it he was pulling my leg. Never, ever, anywhere in my life, have I seen a reference to Christopher Robin having a middle name. I don't even know where that came from, but it was one of the oddest days in my vault-working life. I looked down at my CTR ring today on my finger and remembered that episode and had a good laugh, and I wanted to share.

Gosh, I love Pooh-bear. I also love random memories. On top of those two things, I love that I have this nutty blog, where I can type this kind of totally random thing, and you read it. (Thank you, my reading public, for indulging me. You all really are the best, ever!)

I really do have the best life ever. ... Now, I think I'll go read something warm and fuzzy before I head to bed. I'm feeling the need for a little House at Pooh Corner tonight.

Whatever happened to Bill Pullman, anyway?

We were talking about this movie at Sunday dinner, and that was the question of the night. What did happen to Bill? He was kind of all over the place in the late 90's, and then he fell off the face of the earth. Which is too bad, really, since he has one of the best raspy voices of all time. (I looked for the "leaning" clip, but was unable to find it on YouTube. Dangit!)

This movie makes me laugh, it also makes me cry (not all the time, but every once in a while, I get teary). I love the family relationships; the family dinner is one of my favorite scenes of all time "Ceasar Romero wasn't tall" - "these mashed potatoes are creamy". Ha! These people are all nuts enough to be totally believable to me. (Does that say something about my family, do you think?)

If you haven't seen this movie, just go right out and buy it today. (Yeah, it's that good.) If you haven't seen it in a long time, watch it again - right now.

And that's all I have to say about that.

I wonder, when He comes again...

Can I get a big "Amen!" to how fabulous this song is?

Okay... so this is not the best arrangement/video of all time, but it was this or Jimmy Osmond on YouTube, so I went with this. (Trust me, it was the right choice.) What I wouldn't give for the clip of the Tabernacle Choir singing this in the morning session of conference this morning. Oh, my. This song speaks to my very soul. I love that this song is part of my childhood, that it is one of the first songs I remember learning. I love even more the feeling, the swell of my heart, when I hear the lyrics as an adult and I really do wonder when He'll come, and pray that, wherever I am, I will be ready and worthy to be with Him.

On this Easter morning, I am grateful for: His life, His example, His suffering, His love. I'm grateful for the knowledge that He lives; for the peace that having that absolute knowledge brings to my heart - and to my life.

He is the resurrection and the life. He lives. I know this. And, for this, I am grateful.

Happy Easter!

Mmmmm.... Candy.

So, how do you love my new centerpiece?

It's from Mich. I love Mich. Heck, anyone who knows Mich loves Mich, and I'm not just saying that because she made a 7 page long candy poster and sent it to me in the mail with a bunch of other candy/fun in a box - I'm saying it because it's true.

For your reading (drooling) enjoyment, I'm gonna show you my pretty genius candy poster. What slays me about this is that she didn't plan out the poster before she bought the candy. Oh, no. Mich went through the candy aisle, picking up pretty much one of everything, and then she went come and created this masterpiece.

Truly, this is great. Enjoy!

Hahahaha... Awesome, right? My favorite are Mike and Ike, the roommates who lived together on 5th Avenue. That whole page was a stroke of candy-writing genius, wasn't it?

And like a 7 page candy poster wasn't enough - check out the other beauties that were in my magical box of sugary goodness. Cinnamon Bunnies (much like Cinnamon Bears, but Eastery), jelly beans, Peeps, assorted chocolate Easter candy, glow-in-the-dark products (I heart glow-in-the-dark toys, btw, just in case you weren't aware) and a pretty sweet beach movie double feature. Yeah, it was pretty much a party in a box. (And for those of you who were wondering - yes, it's for reasons like this box that I stay in touch with old workmates and friends for decades. Where in the world, other than Central Bank, would I be able to find such a prize who would send me such a package?)

I know, I'm pretty much the luckiest girl. Ever.

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!