The Family Portrait

Ah the family photo. A brief glimpse in the style of the times, and the awkwardness of the times too. The family pictured has found their look, and as a family they are workin' it - and workin' it HARD.

The Fisher Family had a photo like this - not so much about the super hair, but working a style all the same. Our last official family photo was when I was in 6th grade, and my dad had been named the Prince of the West Wind for the St. Paul Winter Carnival. As a Prince of the West Wind, it required him to dress in a symphony of fringed western shirts, fancy boot cut pants, and some fierce cowboy boots. Since he was swept up in the cowboy style, our family decided to take a professional photo where we kids were sporting a 10 gallon hat, and my dad dressed in his princely garb. My mom was exempt from the hat, as she had a fancy hairdo that she didn't want to wreck. She did show her support in a plaid western shirt and a smile that was reminiscent of a frontier woman.

Thankfully, this photo - which still hangs in my parent's home in an infrequently traveled hallway, has not hit the internet. If it did, it would probably be on my new favorite website - www.awkwardfamilyphotos.com. Check it out, I have added the link on the left of my blog.

I wonder what the featured family's hair looks like now?

On the run from the Wild Kingdom Mafia

I'm a lover of all creatures great and small. I always root for the animal when it comes to man vs. nature, and currently run a 'catch and release' program for spiders in my humble abode. With this love comes a deep sadness when a little beastie, be it furry, slimy, or with many legs, meets with an unfortunate circumstance that ends its time on earth.

Last Autumn, my father shot a deer while deer hunting in Northern Minnesota. I am not a fan of him deer hunting or deer hunting in general, but nonetheless it continues to be a fact of life. 3 days after my father called to say he got a deer last year, I began to have an eerie situation where there would be up to 5 deer congregating in my driveway as I would return home from work each night. They would stand there staring, and then as I approached they would dart away. This happened for about 2 weeks after that fateful phone conversation with my dad.

This last weekend, my friend accidentally ran over a frog in the parking area of my townhouse development. He didn't mean to do it, it was a wee fellow, and he should have been in the grass doing froggy things rather than rockin' it on the asphalt late at night. We both felt bad, and said sorry to the little guy, and then went on with our lives.

Last night, as I was locking up my little house, checking the back door locks, testing the front door locks, something caught my eye. I looked up to the window above my front door and spied a frog - about 8 feet up off of the ground suction cupped with his little webby hands watching me from the window. Of course I squealed like any woman would, and then decided to record the incident with my camera as proof that I may be being stalked by an amphibian. If I suddenly disappear - check the local swamps and question every Raleigh-Durham frog you may see. They probably would be aware of my whereabouts.

Don't Stop Me Now!

Brian & Eileen's Wedding Music Video. from LOCKDOWN projects on Vimeo.

This could be the coolest wedding video ever. Cool song, cool bride & groom and some conclusive evidence that the British don't have sticks up their butts all the time.

I would love to have a wedding video like this, but there is the whole annoying "find a groom" step...make him worship me and buy me diamonds step...and honestly, I just don't have time for all of that.

My dogs are barking.....

I consider myself to be fashion forward...generally. On a limited budget, and with a less than super-model appearance, I try to rock it out when I can.

One way I like to express myself through fashion is to have courageous shoe choices. The small issue is that I am a total wuss about having sore feet. It may be from working for 5+ years on hard marble floors as a retail manager in my early twenties. That is where I developed my philosophy of being a wearer of fabulous flat shoes as opposed to fierce fashionista stiletto heels.

I will wear the occasional spike heel - but it has to be when I know I will be trapped in meetings all day and not marching up and down the square all over the office. Today was supposed to be one of those days - stuck in meetings for 8+ hours. I picked out my black suede booties with the super heels that look so adorable on this morning knowing about my meeting situation. Unfortunately, I didn't plan out the logistics of my meeting calendar today, because today my meetings were here there and everywhere. Upstairs, downstairs, on the west side, on the east side - and every step of the way to my meetings, my feet reminded me as to why I am much more adorable with an Audrey Hepburn sort of flat rather than a Victoria Beckham uber heel.

Tomorrow its going to be all about my Tory Burch Leopard Flats....ahhhhhhhhh.

Genius - Genius I tell you!

I heart Steve Carell. I heart "Anchorman - the legend of Ron Burgundy". I heart this clip. He should have won an award I tell you....

That's quite a USP!

Thirsty? Call this dude. He apparently has access to some mighty fine drinking water (after he cleans your persian rug).


I'm sticking to diet coke. Thanks.

Lock me up in this refrigerated case

Ever have a heck of a day? The kind of day that when you get home you want to stick your face in a plate of cupcakes?

I had that day today.

Lord, how I long for a cupcake....a photo will have to do.

Just say it straight...

My friend Amy has never been one to mince words. She will say it like she sees it. For example, after having labor induced 3 times over the last 2 days, she finally told her very proper English doctor,

"Look, if you want this kid to come out, you are going to have to go in and get him".

And that is just what the doctor did. Congratulations Amy & Kevin on the addition of little Connor Kirk!

I can tell my cashmere is cowering

Check out this critter that I encountered while walking through my company's warehouse on the way to the lunchroom. I swear every sort of winged, antennae-wearing creepy crawly that is in North Carolina weighs about a pound each.

I had to go back to my desk and get my personalized ruler to get some scale on this giant moth so one could understand it's size.

This guy could probably decimate my sweater drawer in 30 seconds flat.

See Joe McGann?

My pal Joe McGann is currently living over in India for a year. The other day he came across a Cobra situation on the street in Guragoan and told me the story. Imagine my glee when I was able to swap a big snake story with him.

Of course he wanted a picture for proof - so Joe McGann, today's posting is just for you.

It's of me and 2 new friends I found in Morocco.

I can't help myself sometimes, if you have been my victim, my apologies

I think sometimes I'm like this monkey...

Probably another exhausting night in dreamland tonight

As I go through reading my daily favorite sites on the internet, the false news posted of French actor Jean Reno having a heart attack filled me with dread. Dread because a film star that I admire may be ill?

No.

Dread because the dream will probably come to me tonight. Since about 1989, I have had a re-occurring dream starring Jean Reno (as his character Enzo in The Big Blue - a movie about competitive free diving) that shows up every couple of months. Is it like clockwork that the dream turns up?

No.

Is it the same dream?

No.

It's usually a very detailed escapade in which this Enzo character shows up in weird situations and either helps or distracts me. He's never evil or dangerous, but generally it's kind of a pain in the ass. He's turns up in his wet suit in the weirdest places.

Ask my friends Mike, Jody or Lori, they will confirm that I have been boring them with the telling of my Enzo dreams for almost 20 years.

I've always been a colorful dreamer, in full color with precise detail. Last night was a mental workout, as I had 4 specific, colorful separate dreams which involved 4 different groups of people from work that didn't involve work in any way. My dreams are so active almost every night, sometimes I feel like I have all my mental energy drained out of me when it's time to wake up.

Do I want to be a person with black and white, vague dreams? No. I'm glad I get to remember them, and I am glad I get to bore those close to me with my recounting of dreams.

Why? Because I can.

The silent scream

What I looked like during my ride back from the beach with my friend Jessica behind the wheel.

I made it back in one piece...surprisingly.

The inanimate - animated

I have always projected personalities upon inanimate objects. I have since I was a kid. Could be an aftershock from the Disney-fying of my childhood - where a multitude of inanimate objects would come alive in movies and cartoons, implying they had thoughts and emotions, a la Herbie the Love Bug.

This personality projection manifests it in a variety of ways - too extensive for me to detail without boring you to death. I chalk it up to having an overactive imagination.

As I have mentioned before, I lived with my Gay Hubby for over 7 years, and in his main bathroom, there is a sink with a face within it. I'm not talking "potato chip with the face of the virgin mary on it" face within it, the kind that would get sold on Ebay - I'm saying the design of the sink is such that it looks like a face.

Every night when I was getting ready for bed, washing my face and brushing my teeth - I looked into the bathroom sink and saw this face staring back at me. Kind of like a stoner dude - with a blank silver eyed stare, and a slack open mouth and a frequently runny nose-like spigot.

A possible brush with death

My life passed before my eyes last night.

I just finished eating some dinner consisting of brown rice, hummus, onions and avocados (sounds weird, but I'm weird, so stop judging).

As I put the Hummus container away, I saw the expiration date. "Use by 7/25/08 7:25 PM". I overshot the freshness by 10 days and 30 minutes.

I may perish from this perishiable.

If I don't post anytime soon - you will know, it's because of the hummus.

I'm not always alone in my thinking...

It never failed.

Everyday, when the bus drove by this building on the way to classes at the University of Minnesota, I would see the chiseled sign above the doorway of this building just off the campus.

Viniversity Storehovse Shops. I would repeat it in my head, after I saw it.

I realize the building was built long ago - and the right thing to do was to use a V instead of a U (god bless the old timers modeling the sign after the Greeks or the Romans or who knows what culture)at the time it was built, but now, it's a bit unique and stands out to the typical late 20th century student.

When I back in MPLS this summer, driving around Dinkytown (the name of the area outside of the campus on the east bank of the Mississippi) with Gay Hubby and friend Jody, I knew we were about to approach the building known to me as Viniversity Storehoves Shops. I started saying it out loud, knowing that we would pass it soon. GH said "what are you saying, you sound like a loon" to which I told the tale of my daily pass by of the building and how the name would get stuck in my head. Both he and Jody thought I was a lunatic. I disagreed. I said that I bet a bunch of people thought the same thing as I did.

A hearty debate of of their "no way" to my "uh huh" pressed on for a minute and I said - I'm calling my sister to see what she says. My sister Shelly went to the U of MN and once worked there as well, so she was well versed in the layout of Dinkytown.

I called her up and said "Shelly, you know that brick building across the street from Coopers Union?" She replied "you mean Viniversity Storehoves Shops?"

I then rested my case.

It feels good to be right. Oh yes, it feels good.

What you can get me for Christmas

Wake me up before you go go

Tonight was the big night to go see George Michael with Gay Hubby in all of George's retro tour glory.

Here are 5 great things about the concert:
1) George sounded phenomenal. His pipes sound just as good as they did in the 80's!

2) The stage was quite fantastic. It was a giant LCD screen that he and his back up singers danced on, and there were light shows and video that corresponded with the songs he was singing.

3) George still looks good - he rocked some fabulous drapey wide legged trousers, a hot pair of jeans, and then got dressed up in a cop uniform which was extra campy goodness.

4) Dude can still DANCE! Holy cow, he has got some serious moves. They aren't super acrobatic, but he can do a shimmy and a shake that can set the world on fire. Both Gay Hubby and I commented on it, and agreed that our friend Suneel has some similar moves to George.

5) His back up singers were fantastic, and he rolled credits on the big screen at the end of the concert to recognize his band and crew which I thought was pretty cool.


Here are 5 not so great things about the concert:
1) George's stamina is not what it used to be. He frequently resorted to the "stick the microphone into the crowd so they can sing this part and I can catch my breath" move. It got to the point that Gay Hubby said "I didn't pay to hear the crowd sing".

2) George seemed disappointed in us that we weren't chanting his name with a raucous enough passion. I think George is used to the rabid English Wembley stadium fans that screech, fight and rip apart stadium as a mass of 90,000. Here in MN, the crowd was smaller (probably 20,000), a little more reserved (mostly of Scandinavian descent), and well mannered (a midwestern quality that we all seem to possess).

3) George made us beg for encores. This drives me crazy. The artist knows how many encores they are willing to do - and know that they are going to do them. It seemed indulgent that he made us clap and hoot and holler for a good 5 minutes each time before he came out. I think George might not like George so much, and is suffering from low self esteem. George needs a hug.

4) George started late. Concert was supposed to start at 8 - there was no opening act, and it didn't start until 8:45. I R R I T A T I O N.

5) He wasn't sure the name of the city that he was in. He warmed up the crowd with "Hello Minneapolis" which isn't really right, as we were in St. Paul. After the intermission (yes, intermission - another indicator that George needed a rest) his handlers must have told him that he was in St. Paul, so he kept saying "Thank you St. Paul". Yes the Twin Cities is made up of both Minneapolis and St. Paul, but it felt a little like when my parents always call me by my sister's name. Yes, my sister and I are both daughters of our parents, but we do have different identities - much like Minneapolis and St. Paul. (I'm Minneapolis in this situation, my sister Shelly is St. Paul)

All in all, it was a fantastic evening - all thanks to GH Mike - he is truly the best!

I will rank this concert definitely in my top 8 concerts - possibly even in the top 5.

If you like rankings, check out the top 10 list on George Michael that was published recently in the San Francisco Chronicle at www.sfgate.com - just search for top 10 George Michael(thanks Joe Mcgann for the heads up!)

Do you smell something?

Today was another day in flight for me. I flew up for a week long vacation in the delicious Twin Cities. Of course, the biggest trial and tribulation of traveling anywhere for me is getting through the Raleigh/Durham airport security without some sort of incident.

If you remember last time, I was accused by the security checkpoint officers of having an artificial hip and lying about it. This time I was assaulted, or should I say my senses were assaulted by a fellow passenger just trying to get through.

Traveling today was a group of teenage boys, all dressed up alike in some sort of soccer themed gear. They were kind of scruffy, kind of geeky, with messy hair and oily skin. As they worked their way through the security process, I was tucked into the last security checkpoint station with 4 of the kids.

As a person who has done a fair amount of traveling, I know what to expect, had my computer out of my bag, in a bin, shoes off (wearing shoes easy to get in and out of) and wearing clothes that don't look like I am hiding 4 Kilos of plastic explosives. The guys maybe didn't have as much experience as me, so I had to find my inner zen to be patient while watching then fumble about to try and get organized to put their things through the x ray machine.

I was just a few feet away from being able to place my laptop bin on the conveyor belt as scruffy soccer kid #4 was still getting his stuff on the belt. As I stood and waited patiently, something wafted up to my nose. I looked around to try and identify the offending odor. Was it me? Nope, just smelled perfume on me. Was it a rotten salami sandwich? Nope, no sandwich to be seen. I looked down and Scruffy #4 had taken his shoes off and they sat on the ground. I wondered - could it be his sneakers? Nothing that foul could be that strong - wafting all the way up to my nose (I was taller than usual too, wearing platform wedge sandals). Scruffy #4 bent down, picked up his shoes and put them on the conveyor belt just in front of me. The drifting aroma from his shoes just about knocked me on my ass.

As I waited for his stuff to go through - especially the shoes, my eyes begin to water, and I felt like I could taste what I was smelling. They finally got into the x ray chamber I hoped that the x rays zooming through his shoes were killing any of the micro-organisms that were waging war on my nasal passages.

As I followed him through the metal detector, I breathed through my mouth, hoping that it would all be over soon. Of course, he had some sort of metal device in his back pack that was suspicious (he said it was to remove the cleats on his soccer shoes) which then required a search of his bag. The poor security officer looked mortified that she had to go through the back pack (which had a pair of soccer shoes stuffed in the top) to identify the issue.

I hope she had a haz-mat suit to put on to dig through his bag. I ske-daddled as soon as I could because I didn't want to be around when the main zipper was unzipped.

It wasn't a mother f*ckin walk off

It was Tuesday.

I was part of a group that was presenting a new change to my company's brand, which required me to change into special t-shirt that was part of the planned theatrics.

To get back to my desk, it requires me to walk down a main 'hallway' which is flanked by banks of low cubes (waist height) on either side. Everyone sitting at their desk can see who is going up and down the aisle.

As I began to walk to the other end of the aisle to get to my desk, the president of our company was at the opposite end of the aisle. He is a guy with a dry sense of humor and likes to make jokes. He smiled at me and seemed to be laughing as the two of us approached each other in the aisle-way.

Since Zoolander is one of my favorite movies, I assumed it was the president's too, and that he was challenging me to a mother f*ckin walk off (as portrayed in today's clip). I began my strut toward him, kind of walking like a weird pony - the way that Miss J teaches all the girls on America's Next Top Model.

As the president approached me he said "Missy, I thought perhaps you could give me one of those shirts" - referring to my new theatrical uniform. I responded to him "oh, I thought you wanted to have a walk off" which left him very puzzled. My face turned red, and a retreated with the chant "uncomfortable" running through my head.

I went and found him a shirt, but by then, he refused, most likely because my earlier behavior was freaking him out.

I raised my profile in one weird way that day.