Mother Nature's got a case of the Mondays ...

Ahh November ... the grayest month of the year. Not that I am against gray or anything ... I actually really love gray. And one tall, dark-rimmed, handsome Gray and three adorable, demanding, spunky little Grays in particular.

No, gray I have no problem with. But cold gray - well, cold gray and I are not friends. Like today for example. Today it is very cold and very gray. The sky is gray, the ground is cold and hard, everything is just kind of blah. (That is a technical term by the way. It is ok to be impressed by my vast vocabulary. Don't be intimidated.)

Days like today makes me think that Mother Nature has a "case of the Mondays." I know, I know, it's not TECHNICALLY Monday, but a blah day like today (watch out, I'm using my "technical" terms again) make me feel like it really IS Monday and I just want to crawl under a big warm blanket and watch romantic comedies or repeats of 30 Rock until the sun shines once more.

Blast you November! I do love Thanksgiving and all - if we can still find it among the obnoxiousness of pre-Christmas- but why does your weather have to suck so bad? I know people who actually like this kind of weather and more than like it, they prefer it. These people are know as nut jobs (another technically term) and should be studied.

I can understand people who are generally upbeat and happy making the best of dreary day like today and remaining upbeat. But actually becoming happy when you look out the window and see a vast sea of gray clouds, a sharp wind blowing and stark, barren, life-less trees - well, that is just loony.

It is almost like a pessimist's mood come to life. Maybe those people who do like these kind of days are pessimists and it makes them happy to have to rest of us see how they feel. Maybe I am just thinking too much about this. Although it is not like to me to over think or over dramatize something .... (Is my tall, dark-rimmed, handsome Gray rolling his eyes yet?)

It would be one thing if it were sunny and cold. I could at least think "well, at least there is no snow yet." Or if it were warm and overcast I could think "at least it's not cold." And if there was snow on the ground I could say - you know what, I'd probably be cursing if there was snow on the ground. I am not ready for that white stuff yet, and will not be for at least a couple more weeks.

By now you must be thinking, geesh lady, you sure are picky (and you talk to yourself a lot, you may need to talk to a professional about that. And by professional we mean A PERSON, not just another voice in your head you call Dr. Peabody.) And you're right ... I just like my weather a certain way ok? I'll take the cold, but the sun needs to be shining with it. I can take the gray, but it also needs to be above 50 degrees. What can I say, weather really affects my mood. (Did I use the right word there? I never know if it is affect or effect. I kinda know the rule, but not enough that if I was on a game show I would win any money giving the definition or anything. I mean, does ANYONE besides English teachers really know the correct usage. Well, if you do, you are much smarter than I am. But then again, you knew THAT already.)

And now, on top of the gray, it's getting dark. Not that is really all that different, but I used to be able to see my keyboard fairly clearly from the gray light coming in through the window, and now I need to turn on a light. Time to go curl under a blanket and wait for sun ....

I think I saw that Bridget Jones' Diary was going to be on - that just may do the trick ... Oh bullocks ...

Oreo's are a delicacy ... aren't they??

I have to wonder if I am doing some sort of grave injustice to Julia Child by reading her book "My Life in France" while eating Oreo's. (Or my other snack of choice, Cap'n Crunch right out of the box.)

The thought occurred to me earlier today while I was munching on said Oreo's and reading about all the fabulous meals Mrs. Child and her husband Paul had while living in France. 

I don't think my choice of cuisine would make her roll over in her grave as I am am sure much worse has been eaten while reading great works about food and culinary experiences. Nor do I think that I would be an important enough of a reader to cause her that much trouble. And yet, if she were alive, and she knew that "America's Favorite Cookie" was being eaten while reading about all her lovely sauces and wines she would surely at least make a sour face.

While reading her book I feel like I should be sitting in an outdoor cafe sipping red wine and eating a wonderful assortment of cheeses or a a lovely piece of fish in a rich sauce, no doubt chiefly made of butter. 

Somehow lying on my couch while munching the famous sandwich cookie (delicious as it may be) just seems a little disrespectful to one of the culinary greats of the 20th century.

But alas, that is where the book is being read.

It is a very good read, if any of you are interested in reading it, but I feel I must warn you. If you think this book is going to be very similar to the "Julia" portion of the movie Julie & Julia (as I kind of thought) you are wrong. Hollywood took some GENEROUS liberties when making that movie, and while parts of the book are in the movie they are very much different and some are grossly incorrect. I am not sure Julia Child would not have liked the movie at all had she been alive to see it. She probably wouldn't have even have given her permission to make it. (Although I will say that I do like the movie and in particular the parts where Meryl Streep plays Julia Child. I did not care much for the Amy Adams/Julie Powell part but that may be because I did not really care for the Julie Powell character. No disrespect to Ms. Adams.)

I guess  it's really true that you can't believe what you see in the movies - even if is supposed to be about true events. I mean, I know ... I DID already know THAT. I know that there are no such things are Smurfs - even if I do see Neil Patrick Harris talking to one and Shia LeBeouf is not friends with a robotic car named Optimus Prime. (And how bad was his acting in that movie - seriously, just AWFUL!) 

And now you are questioning my taste in movies ...

But the very naive part of me wants to believe that biographical movies like Argo or Miracle or Beverly Hills Chihuahua 2 are mostly if not all true. (Ok, I know that last one isn't a biographical movie - I least I hope it isn't!) I guess if I really want to know, I should read a book about it and then compare it to the movie. 

You know, I don't even have to do that - I know a movie like Argo was all Hollywooded up. I'm sure it was intense, but probably not THAT intense. Still a good movie though.

And now, Julia, back to you. Currently she and husband has moved to Marsielle (I am only half way through and less than a week until book club, yikes!). I am sure within sentences she will have my mouth watering with her cheerful tone and deliciously descriptive dishes. 

Bon appetit!

Cause I'm a woooman ... W-O-M-A-N

I love being a woman. I really do. There is not one single ounce of me that wishes I could be a man (sorry fellas, but it's true). I have always loved my gender and being my gender and am in my opinion I am a bit of feminist. I am sure I am not to the degree that some woman are, but I believe I do fall somewhere on the feminist spectrum.

I am of the mindset that anything a man can do, I can do. Except of course for those few anatomical things that it is about impossible to do. (I said, about impossible, so don't revoke my feminist card just yet. If we put our minds to it we may just accomplish those things yet. Gotta go for the brass ring, right ladies!)

Not that always enjoy doing all those manly type things. I really dislike killing bugs, or taking out the garbage or snow blowing the driveway, but I can do it and I will do it because I think it is important.

All that being said there are some things that I truly love about being a woman. No, it is not being able to carry a human being inside me and give birth etc. etc. That is all well and good and a wonderful thing, but no, what I love about being a woman is much smaller: painting my fingernails.

Yup, the simple act of brushing some polish on my fingernails makes me feel really good and really happy that I am a woman. Sound silly? Well maybe, but right now as I look down at the cherry red on the tips of my fingers a little smile crept across my face. It makes me happy, it makes me feel pretty and while I know that is not a very feminist thing to say, it does.

But you see, having my fingernails painted doesn't mean I still won't kill a bug or take out the garbage or use the snowblower. It just means my hand will be more accessorized when I do it.

In fact in some ways I think it makes it even cooler when you do. "Look at me giant daddy long legs or pincher bug (sorry I don't know the correct name for those bugs) look at my nice shiny red or pink or blue or green fingernails. Aren't they pretty? Yep, they sure are. Bettcha think that I must be all dainty and going to scream and run away from you don't ya? Well, lookie here, I gots me a tissue .... Am I gonna use it to wipe away the tears in my eyes from the sheer sight of you?? Nope, guess again, squash ... "

I just really enjoy when my fingernails are painted. Not that are painted all the time. But when they are it just brightens my day. I love seeing other women's fingernails painted. I don't do acrylic, but I marvel and what some ladies can do with incredibly long fingernails and the intricate way they are painted. It's cool, it's fun, it's easy and it makes me glad that I am of the female persuasion. Because even though there are men who do paint their fingernails, it not generally accepted among the male population like it it with the ladies.

On the flip side, there are also some manly things that I like to do that make me feel powerful and get my testosterone all a'flowing. I may love being a woman, but sometimes you just have to access your inner dude right?

Top of the list is starting up a lawn mower. Has to be a push mower though. I don't think I would get that some feeling turning the key on a riding mower. Grabbing that cord and pulling with all your might and hearing that mower come to life ... kinda makes me what to grunt like Tim Allen in "Home Improvement." It's a cool feeling. I don't always enjoy mowing the lawn, but those few seconds starting up the engine almost make up for it.

For me though, what is best of all, is that we ladies can have it both ways. We can paint our fingernails and mow the lawn. We can go out to work all day and get sweating and dirty and then come home and put on a dress and go out looking stunning. It's awesome. I love it.

Unfortunately though, I see a chip in my index finger so it looks like this paint is gonna go pretty soon. (I love painted nails, but I really don't like chipped ones). I may paint them right away, I may not. It is just nice to know that I can instantly brighten up my day with just a little bottle or color with a brush right inside its lid.