Is it too much to ask to want a comfortable bed that won't hurt my back?
Food to fill me up and warm clothes and all that stuff?
Shouldn't I have this? Shouldn't I have all of this and passionate kisses?
Passionate kisses from you.


Is it much to demand to want a full house and a rock & roll band?
Pens that won't run out of ink and full quiet and time to think?
Shouldn't I have it? Shouldn't I have all of this and passionate kisses?
Passionate kisses from you.


Do I want too much? Am I going overboard to want that touch?
I shouted out to the night "Give me what I deserve cause it's my right!"
Shouldn't I have it? Shouldn't I have all of this and passionate kisses?

Passionate kisses from you.


~Lucinda Williams

Joining Forces

In an act of solidarity with Nancy, I am trying to coax the arrival of Fall, or as I like to call it, Autumn. Isn't Autumn a much more romantic name than Fall? I think that may be why Autumn is coyly holding back. She wants to be called by her real name.

I've also decided to start dressing and cooking as though Autumn were already here. Today I am wearing layers, in nice seasonal colors of muted blues and browns. I have a long sleeve blue bib-top blouse on and a 3/4 sleeve brown cropped sweater over it. It's very granola and very Autumn. It helps that my office is about 68 degrees.

And in a desperate act of supplication, I baked a Brown Sugar Pound Cake with Caramel Glaze. I brought it to the office today as an Autumnal offering.

I think I'll pick up a Pumpkin Spice Latte on my way home from work.

Identity Crisis

I've been wanting to blog about this for several days, but haven't had the time. Recently a friend sent out an email to all the women she knew. She was conducting an informal survey of her friends and wanted to know how many of us want to be stay-at-home moms. The question wasn't "ARE you a stay-at-home mom?" and it wasn't "do you think it's BEST to be a stay-at-home mom?" but rather "do you WANT to be a stay-at-home mom?".

I didn't even have to think about the answer to that one: YES!

I've known for a long time that I want a family and I want to be a homemaker. My mom always stayed home with my brother and me and I can see how that choice had an incredible impact on my life. I would love nothing more than to be able to do the same thing for my children. I've never been a very ambitious person. When I think of the future, I don't see myself in a high-powered career. I see myself washing laundry, cooking meals, teaching my kids, gardening, running errands etc...

As I read my friend's email, I started pondering how much I really do WANT to be a stay-at-home mom. I would say it is the most important dream I have for my future. I would even say it shapes my identity and what I believe about myself. But there are a lot of pronouns in that idea. "I want...MY future...MY identity" What if God's dream for my future doesn't include marriage, motherhood, homemaking? How will I respond to that?

Am I prepared to relinquish my dream and embrace God's plan, whatever that may be? I don't really have much choice, when it comes down to it. God's plan will prevail. The only choice I have in the matter is how I will respond to His plan. I can submit joyfully to whatever He has in store for me. Or I can grumble and become bitter, cynical and hardhearted.

Psalm 37:4 says "Delight yourself in the LORD and He will give you the desires of your heart." That verse is often used out of context to "prove" that if we love God, He will give us what we want. But what the psalmist is really saying is that if I delight in God then the desire of my heart will be God and He will fulfill that desire by giving me more of Himself.

The hard part about that is replacing my dreams with God alone. The great part about that is the promise of finding greater satisfaction in God than I ever could in my dreams.

Beauty

She sometimes thought herself pretty, but as she began to make a proper investigation, she found it was a changeable thing, beauty. No sooner did she locate it then it slipped from her grasp; instead of disciplining it, she was unable to refrain from exploiting its flexibility. She stuck her tongue out at herself and rolled her eyes, then smiled beguilingly. She transformed her expression from demon to queen.

This beauty, so brief she could barely hold it steady, would fade and expire, unsung, unrescued, and unrescuable.

~Sai, The Inheritance of Loss by Kiran Desai

Randy Jackson Fixed My Doorbell

Yo, Dawg.

For real. Our doorbell has been broken ever since we moved into the place. My roomie has been meaning to call a repairman, but there's not much urgency about a broken doorbell so it hasn't been high on our list of priorities. But this week a couple of other things broke, namely the refrigerator and an electrical outlet. So she called the handyman and next thing we know, Randy Jackson has fixed our doorbell. And yes, he is a large black man.

p.s. The QQ wasn't updated yesterday due to an overload on the administrator's network (meaning I was incredibly busy). The QQ apologizes for any inconvenience this may have caused.

Blogger's Block

I can't think of anything good to blog about. I gave you some really solid blog entries this week, along with a very funny YouTube clip. I've exhausted my material. Or I'm just exhausted. One of the two. Anyway...lemme think...

thinking...

still thinking...

I had a banana for a snack this afternoon. It was good.

more thinking...

Yep. I've got nuthin'.

Have a good weekend.

Great TV Moments

Bathroom Music

You know how sometimes there's music playing in public restrooms? In yet another example proving that working at a public radio station is never ordinary, I walked into the ladies' restroom this afternoon and nearly bumped into an opera singer performing an aria from Carmen.

And when I say performing, I mean she was all-out singing at the top of her lungs. The music was soaring through the restroom and reverberating off the walls (there are some really great acoustics in there). She was also wearing a gypsy blouse and peasant skirt and was barefoot. She was definitely embracing the part.

I did what I had come to do...all while being serenaded with my own personal opera performance. I felt a little bad about flushing the toilet right in the middle of her song.

The Head Honcho

There is a giant disembodied head in the lobby of my station.

I can't believe I've worked here for more than five years and I've been blogging for more than two years and I have never shared this with you. I've told some people about it...sort of as an enticement to come visit me..."Hey, you should drop by the station. We have a giant Head." Few people have taken me up on the offer. The Head looms ominously in the front lobby, "welcoming" guests who arrive at our door. And it really is huge. It's composed of thousands of components associated with broadcasting - CDs, circuit boards, microphone elements, cables etc. I think it's a woman, but who can be sure? Perhaps if it acted moody and irritable at certain times of the month I would be able to tell. But the Head is silent. And disturbing.

I apologize for the poor qualities of the photos.

The backlighting behind the Head makes it difficult to take good photographs.

Do Not Pass Go

This story is not mine, it's actually my roommate's. I asked her permission to tell the story on my blog. I think you will appreciate it.

My roomie had lunch plans with a friend of hers on Saturday. Her friend was going to come over to our house around 12:30, eat lunch and spend some time catching up. Well 12:30 rolls around and no one shows up. My roomie assumes her friend is just running late, so she continues to wait patiently. Half an hour later, still no friend. So she calls...and gets voicemail. Hours go by and there's no word or communication from her friend. She is worried. Could there have been an accident? A hospitalization? It's uncharacteristic of her friend to be a no-show...and even more uncharacteristic to not hear anything. The whole day passes and my roomie is unable to get in touch with her friend or find out what is going on.

Late that night she gets a phone call from her friend. She missed the call. When she listened to the message, there was an explanation of what had happened to her friend...but much was still unclear. Here's how the message went:

"Hi, LL. I'm sorry I didn't call earlier...I just got out of jail. I'm ok. I'll talk to you soon."

The End.

Gah!

My morning started out a little hectic. Apparently my boss called me while I was in the shower. I didn't see that I had missed the call until about an hour later. I checked my voicemail and realized she wanted to change my assignment and send me to an event downtown...that started in ten minutes! I called her back and told her I had just received the message and was still at home and there's no way I could make it on time. She told me she needed me to be there - I should head out immediately and try to get there before the event ended.

So I grab my purse and my make-up bag (I hadn't even put on make-up yet) and flew out the door. Yes, I was that woman who is driving crazy and putting on her make-up at the same time. I arrived downtown, parked at a meter, jumped out of the car and rushed toward the Juvenile Courthouse.

Right as I walked up, I saw Harris County Judge Ed Emmett walking out. This is the guy I am supposed to interview! I run to catch up to him and breathlessly explain the situation. I think he thought I was a little loco. I ask him if he has a moment to stop and give me an interview. He graciously agrees. I pull out my microphone and start asking him a few questions. As he is answering, I glance down and nearly melt from embarrassment...I am wearing scruffy flip flops! He is wearing a business suit and carrying a briefcase. I am wearing jeans and flip flops. I rushed out of the house so quickly that I didn't even think about what I had on...including the fact that I was wearing my house-shoes.
Horrors.

Comets and Kool-Aid

Here's a picture of me and the other members of the cult I have joined. We're working on plans to purchase an apple orchard and form our own commune. The really small guy in the orange shirt at the lower right of the picture is our leader. He has a tendency to babble and run around naked.

I'm blushing...

Transcript of an email I received last night:

Dear Sirs,

When Laurie Johnson speaks Spanish, particularly the names of traveling restaurants, it makes me want to give KUHF many pesos!
Do not hide this treasure any longer. I would appreciate a daily podcast of Ms Johnson reading restaurant names in Spanish.

Sincerely,
Pablo Taco
Keeper of many pesos

Classical Hip Hop

How did I miss this group? Dang.

Celebrity Sighting

Friday night I went to dinner with a bunch of my girlfriends. We met at an upscale Tex-Mex restaurant just around the corner from my house. The hostess seated us at our table. I sat down and glanced at the group directly across from us. That's when I realized I had just made eye contact with Jeff Bagwell! He was having dinner with his wife and several friends. We used Dinah's camera phone to snap a picture of him. I know the picture is fuzzy and you have to take my word for it...but it really is Jeff Bagwell.

If you could read my mind, Love,
what a tale my thoughts could tell.
Just like an old time movie
'bout a ghost from a wishing well
in a castle dark or a fortress strong,
with chains upon my feet.
You know that ghost is me.
And I will never be set free
as long as I'm a ghost that you can't see.

If I could read your mind, Love,
what a tale your thoughts could tell.
Just like a paperback novel,
the kind the drugstores sell.
When you reached the part where the heartache comes,
the hero would be me.
But heroes often fail.
And you won't read that book again
because the ending's just too hard to take.

I'd walk away like a movie star
who gets burned in a three-way script.
Enter Number Two:
A movie queen to play the scene
of bringing all the good things out in me.
But for now, Love, let's be real;
I never thought I could act this way
and I've got to say that I just don't get it.
I don't know where we went wrong,
but the feeling's gone
and I just can't get it back.

If you could read my mind, Love,
what a tale my thoughts could tell.
Just like an old time movie
'bout a ghost from a wishing well
in a castle dark or a fortress strong,
with chains upon my feet.
But stories always end.
And if you read between the lines,
you'll know that I'm just trying to understand
the feelings that you lack.
I never thought I could feel this way
and I've got to say that I just don't get it.
I don't know where we went wrong,
but the feeling's gone
and I just can't get it back.

~Gordon Lightfoot

The girl who liked ladybugs

This is the story of the girl who liked ladybugs. She would always see ladybugs everywhere she went. Some of them would fly and land on her, dancing across her shirt or riding on her finger. Others would peek out at her from behind a leaf or flower petal. She liked ladybugs and ladybugs liked her. Then one day, she was walking through a room in her house and one of her relatives called out after her "hey pretty ladybug" and the nickname stuck. Ever since then, people knew she was like a ladybug. Her co-workers called her Ladybug. Her boss called her Ladybug. Her friends called her Ladybug.



Then everyone started giving her ladybugs. Her collection grew and grew until her room was filled with ladybugs. "What am I going to do with all these ladybugs?" she thought. Then she had the perfect idea. She would decorate her office desk with them! And that is the story of the girl who liked ladybugs.

Tune in next week for the story of the girl who had a brooch.

Party of One

I just got dumped for a date. Over email. For another girl.

I'm now looking for a replacement date. I got replaced, so I should be allowed to do some replacing of my own. Any takers?

Please submit applications in person or by phone. No email or text applications will be accepted.

The X-Factor

I got my hair cut again last night. It's even shorter than it was last time. Now I'm waiting to see if I can recreate the magic and get hit on again.



p.s. what is it about pictures of people at their desks that is so fascinating? I know half a dozen of you are scrutinizing every item you can make out on my desk/shelves/computer screen. I point it out because I am guilty too.

It's Over

The long weekend is gone. Buh-bye. It was good while it lasted. It included:

One homemade blackberry pie
Two farmers markets
Three trips to the grocery store
Four parties
Five hours of football
Six hours of reading
Seven times I wanted to take a nap
Eight friends celebrating a TV
Nine croquet wickets
Ten friends eating pancakes