Posted by amy on October 23rd, 2009 — Posted in Mayor's Decree
In a past issue of Living Martha Stewart wrote “I cannot recall a single Halloween in my entire life when I did not dress up or “make up” to celebrate this very unusual and peculiar holiday.”
Apparently there must not have been a Halloween in which she slept, worked, showered or took care of any mundane life activities either. Instead she had to spend her time heating wood, sugar and bone char in the absence of oxygen to create charcoal. The charcoal was then formed into pencils so she could sketch intricate templates used for hand-carving frightful and fun expressions into gourds, pumpkins, squash and other fall vegetables that just happened to be lying around.
The leftover pumpkins were pureed and transformed into cakes, pies, breads and puddings all served on elegant bone china Martha made herself. She was also able to sew Halloween costumes from fabric she wove herself out of cat hair from the neighbor’s living room.
I confess. The cat hair came from my house. There is, of course, no cat hair in Martha’s home. She’s not actually my neighbor but I mailed her the contents of my vacuum canister and she hand-sifted the particles, selecting only those with the finest of textures. The remaining grime was mixed with soot and saturated with rain water to serve as mulch for the flower beds.
Not wanting to be outdone, I tried my hand at some festive decorations and crafts this year. It’s amazing how complicated these projects can be in the magazines. Here are my thoughts for simplifying:
Swiss-Cheese Pumpkin
Living: Using a marker, draw a circle for each hole. Cut out holes by hand with a keyhole saw; shave edges smooth with a scraper if desired. Fill holes with rubber mice.
Living (for real people): Screw marking the circles. Freehand it and put them wherever you want. Have you ever counted or measured the holes in swiss cheese? Nope! And no one is going to do that with your pumpkin either.
Carve them out by hand? Surely you jest. Why would I want to do that when there is a perfectly good power drill in the garage and the right size bit in one of the 27 boxes stacked here and there. Just a minor detail that I don’t have any real experience with power tools and nearly took my finger off trying to figure out how to change the bits.
Mouse Silhouettes
Living: Download template from my Living website. Enlarge 350 to 400 percent on a photocopier. Trace the shapes onto black construction paper and cut out. Mount as desired with masking tape.
Living (for real people): Drive to the nearest craft store – you can probably work in a stop for frozen custard this way – and buy the pre-cut, ready-to-go mouse silhouettes sold by Martha Stewart Crafts. Open packages and apply using the peel-and-stick adhesives guaranteed (sort of) to not peel the paint off your wall when you take these down before your Super Bowl party.
Glittered Pumpkins
Living: Spread a layer of glue over the surface of a small pumpkin. Hold pumpkin over a paper plate and sprinkle powder glitter over it, covering completely. Let dry for one hour, shake off excess.
Living (for real people): Spray pumpkin (any size/shape, use whatever you can find) with glitter spray paint. Shake the shit out of the can and spray away.
There you have it folks – seasonal crafts that leave you enough time to kick back with a pumpkin martini. My efforts are showcased in my Halloween 2009 photos.
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Posted by amy on September 5th, 2009 — Posted in Mayor's Decree
Having decided we could no longer stand Bentonville, the Man and I relocated to Fayetteville. (no offense, Benton County residents. Try to practice a little tolerance here – you know, different strokes for different folks. We don’t ALL have to like the same things). For those of you who aren’t familiar with Northwest Arkansas, Fayetteville is about 18 miles south of the compound Bentonville.
This required yet another grueling round of packing/loading/unpacking boxes and boxes of “stuff.” The packing part was a little easier given we procrastinated and never unpacked 2/3 of our stuff (see previous post). Given that my work days run anywhere from ten to sixteen hours a day, I’m very limited in what enjoyment I get out of my new surroundings but there are a few I thought I’d share:
1. Bill & Tony’s Liquor Store
2. Trees and hills – this is what the Ozarks is supposed to look like.
3. Mid-Way Liquor Store
4. Jason’s Deli just down the street – I rarely cook anymore
5. Liquor Mart & Wine Shoppe
6. Andy’s Frozen Custard – for a second it makes me feel like I’m in Springfield again although I have yet to give into my cravings for a jumbo chocolate cone.
7. Liquor World
8. Our house – it doesn’t look like all the others on the street and we even have room to set up the pool table.
9. Dickson Street Liquors
10. My neighbor – can you believe I finally found someone else here who likes cats?
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Posted by amy on July 5th, 2009 — Posted in Mayor's Decree
I admit, I’m a procrastinator.
I make lists of things I need to do, think about how I’m going to do these things, worry about not getting all/some/none of these things done but, nevertheless, I will still put most things off until the last minute. Maybe I just work better under pressure. Maybe I secretly like having something to worry about. Maybe I’m just a lazy sloth.
Whatever the reason, I’ve learned it sometimes often pays to procrastinate.
I could list out example after example of when this course of action (or lack thereof) has played out in my favor but I’ll do that later. I’d rather tell you about my most recent payoff.
Four or five years ago I went to London for vacation. Upon returning I discovered 70 pounds worth of currency in my luggage. Mind you, London wasn’t cheap so I really wanted all the American dollars I could place my hands on even if it only demonstrated we’ve achieved nothing economically on the British despite gaining our independence. The pound was kicking the dollar’s ass. And I don’t mean in an even, fair street fight kind of way. It was more like the dollar was the fat kid in P.E. class competing against an Olympic athlete. Despite my desire for dollars I simply placed the pounds in a dresser drawer along with the best of intentions to get to the bank, someday.
Fast forward to 2009. The Man and I decided to jump across the pond again with some friends. Decisions, decisions…..what do I wear? what suitcase do I bring? how much money do I need? do we need a new digital camera? should I get pounds in advance or count on the ATM once I arrive?
Wait a minute……I already have 70 pounds ready to spend. Plenty to cover expenses until I can leisurely locate an ATM. Score one for procrastination.
I did, however, manage to get vacation pictures posted within a few weeks of returning. You can see them at http://www.amyland.org/flickr/album/72157619229551488/uk-2009.html.
Nothing more exciting than looking at someone else’s vacation photos.
Cheerio!
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Posted by amy on April 12th, 2009 — Posted in Mayor's Decree
No wonder there’s a substance abuse problem in society today. With the absurdity and incompetence of the world how can one be expected to make it through the week day hour without a nip, snort, sniff, snuff, smoke or something that momentarily prevents you from repeatedly banging your head against the wall. Or setting yourself on fire and rolling out in front of fast-moving traffic.
To prove my point I’ll describe one (just one, mind you) of the idiocy hurdles I had to jump this past week:
I step in to help my co-worker on a project that involves producing an in-house video. No problem with that. After a whirlwind of scheduling studio time, securing a freelance editor, script edits and working with nearly unacceptable raw footage we ended up with a pretty decent video in just a few days. The last step was to ship the master to a dubbing studio where 4,500+ copies would be made and added to a composite of other materials. Thus, forming a launch kit for all our field locations.
The next logical question was “How do we handle Fed Ex here?” Inquiring minds want to know. At least, inquiring minds with a need to have a package delivered by the next morning.
I was told to fill out an in-house shipping form and tape it to the Fed Ex envelope – but not too much or it will rip when the shipping center takes it off but not too little or it will fall off before it reaches the shipping center. From there the shipping team will use information from in-house form to fill out the Fed Ex form, paste it to the envelope and drop it in the mail.
Wait a minute?
Did you say I fill out a form and then someone else recopies that information onto another form? In these trying economic times I’m all about someone keeping their job but really, wouldn’t it just be better if I filled out the Fed Ex form myself and we did away with the middleman process?
Yes, that is how it is done. Even more disturbing is that the in-house form has no carbon copy, number or tracking information of any kind. It’s simply a black-and-white, Xeroxed form. You have no way of actually knowing if your package makes it to the company shipping department nor do you know, for sure, if it’s made it into the Fed Ex stream. Until, of course, you get a call at 10:30 a.m. from someone asking WTH is the package you promised to send. At that point you might as well go mix a martini (and here’s where we start with the substance abuse).
You know what else?
You won’t be able to answer them unless you hiked over to another building and personally delivered your package to the shipping department and asked them to give you the Fed Ex tracking number. Remember, someone else fills out the Fed Ex form for you and this in-house form is about as helpful as mowing your lawn with hair clippers.
Now this is exactly what I did. Not because I’m always, always extra diligent (lord, I hope my boss does not read this) but because I had to. I put the envelope in the pick-up box right before my 3 p.m. meeting, as last pick up was at 4 p.m. When I walked back by it was 4:15, my envelope was still in the bottom of the bin (yes, I looked) and the sign was posted stating last pick up of the day had been made. WTF?
Sigh….I grab the envelope, beg someone to show me where the shipping room is and delivered it personally. It’s almost 4:30 and the pick up by the actual Fed Ex people is at 5 p.m.
I get there, hand over the envelope, tell them when it needs to arrive and ask if they can give me the tracking number. I’m thinking I’m in the home stretch now.
Think again.
Clerk: Where does this need to go?
Inside voice: It’s written on the freakin’ package? Can’t you read?
Outside voice: Utah, Salt Lake City.
Clerk: What is it?
Inside voice: WTF do you care?
Outside voice: Uh, a DVD.
Clerk: Why does this have to go so early? Do you know it’s really expensive to ship overnight?
Inside voice: No shit Sherlock. I haven’t spent 12+ years in Corporate American without learning the ways of Fed Ex.
Outside voice: Yes, I realize that but we’re in a time crunch and this has to get there by tomorrow morning or the studio won’t be able to make the 4,500+ copies needed for our campaign.
Clerk: Why didn’t you have the dubs made here?
Inside voice: MYOB bitch! Gee, this might have escaped your attention but in the latest company “reorganization” the AV department lost more than half its staff. This project didn’t make their priority list.
Outside voice: Gee, this might have escaped your attention but in the latest company “reorganization” the AV department lost more than half its staff. This project didn’t make their priority list.
Clerk: You know, this is really expensive to ship overnight.
Inside voice: Yeah, I think we covered that.
Outside voice: Look, this isn’t really my project. I’m just trying to help get it completed. I didn’t set any of this up or make these decisions. I’m just trying to make sure the DVD gets their on time.
Clerk: Ok, but it’s going to be expensive.
Inside voice: Hmmm…I’ll bet one of the three other people in this room would narc on me if I kill her. That’s too many bodies to hide.
Outside voice: Thanks, I appreciate your help.
Shots, anyone?
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Posted by amy on April 2nd, 2009 — Posted in Mayor's Decree
So I did something the other day I would never think of doing. I had dinner at a gas station. Well, I guess technically it wasn’t a gas station. It was actually a gas station/convenient store that had been converted into a Mexican restaurant.
Yep, now that sounds worse than when I just said I ate at a gas station.
There were no gas pumps, no air hose/tire gauge, no counter of heat lamps scorching down onto countless rows of fried fancies (a requisite for any filling station in Arkansas) or rows of overpriced, packaged snacks situated next to the always-needed combo of perfume, band-aids, and batteries. Despite the absence of these fine features we knew the truth. You could see it by looking at the glass door wall coolers filled with bottled beverages, the unnecessarily high register countertop and the covered parking outside where I can only presume gas pumps once spewed forth sweet, sweet fossil fuels.
I probably wouldn’t have chose this place on my own. But after receiving a personal recommendation and returning from a hike to Hawksbill Crag absolutely famished (who knew walking could drum up such an appetite?) the man and I decided to give it a shot.
Good food. Not your typical Tex-Mex that we Gringos like to cal “Mexican” but more of what I would imagine is authentic Mexican. I can’t tell really tell you what we ordered because the menu was in Spanish. Maybe this is what makes us think the food was authentic. Anyway, my Spanish is limited to “no hablo espanol” at which point I immediately revert back to English, the language everyone should know because it is what we Americans speak and everyone should do what we do.
I do know that my entree had chicken in it – tasted like chicken anyway. And it was a burrito – looked like a burrito anyway. And I think I had a taco because there was beef and a little bit of veggies on a tortilla which I folded over and ate. Anything with fillings, folded over and eaten is a taco. Unless, of course, it’s a sandwich. Maybe I had a Mexican sandwich, not a taco.
I can’t remember the name of the place because, that to was in Spanish and me no hablo espanol. And because I’m not familiar with Springdale I can’t really explain where this place is (this blog is getting more and more helpful, isn’t it?).
Was it on the main drag? Maybe, I don’t know what the main drag in Springdale is and I don’t remember what street we were on. I do know that it was on a corner and there was a grocery stores across the street.
There, that should narrow it down. Go check it out. You might be pleasantly surprised.
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Posted by amy on March 23rd, 2009 — Posted in Mayor's Decree
Today one of my co-workers went to the Rogers, Ark. police department to pay some overdue speeding tickets. To his credit he called and was told he could simply come in, pay the fines/late fees and be done with the whole thing. No harm, no foul. Once he actually arrived at the station he was informed that, as a matter of process, an officer would first have to actually serve him with the warrant for his arrest. However, none of the on-site officers had time to do that just yet because they were in a meeting. He was asked (and I am not making this up) to come back at 2:30 to be arrested. This was at approximately 1 p.m. Apparently this is par for the course as the next direct quote from the receptionist was “You’d be surprised how many people have to come back or wait to be arrested.”
If this is standard operating procedures for local law enforcement it’s likely there is a sliding scale for wait time depending on your crime. It probably goes something like this:
- Speeding ticket – up two hours for the first ticket; add an additional 20 minutes for each additional ticket.
- Armed robbery – up to one hour; however the accused may leave and return at a designated time later that day if they are willing to show one form of ID and agree to bring back Krispy Kreme for the station.
- Petty larceny and/or vandalism of public property – up to six hours. Unless, of course, you are in your pajamas. In which case you may be expected to wait overnight.
- Disturbing the peace – all is forgiven with an on-site visit and a gift of cigarettes; gift must be delivered within four to six weeks of said disturbance. No menthols accepted.
- DWI – up four hours; if you are actually able to sober up before technically being arrested you’re home free!
Gee, I feel better knowing these are the people charged with keeping our world safe.
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Posted by amy on March 6th, 2009 — Posted in Mayor's Decree
Word has spread around the office I’m capable of cake decorating so I found myself creating not one, but two birthday cakes over the weekend.
Now while I’m sure these cakes brought immense joy to small children and rabid, photo-snapping adults alike, let’s not forget to focus on the benefits to myself. The original intent in providing free cakes to co-workers was a pitiful attempt at saying “thank you” in exchange for not beating me to death when I inundate them with stupid questions, blank stares, furrowed eyebrows, repeats of the same stupid questions, confused squints and a final “Hell, I don’t understand!”
As is often the case, people will feel the need to provide some sort of payment for services rendered despite your protests. Fortunately, one of these said people has a relative that owns a liquor store. JACKPOT!!
I’ve already offered my services for every birthday, anniversary, First Communion, housewarming, elementary school bake sale, baby/wedding shower, Bar Mitzvah (who cares it they’re Catholic, diversify!), holiday celebration or other occasion which could possibly necessitate a cake. Or cupcakes. I’ll bake up anything for the sweet, sweet liquor.
You can see both creations in the photos section of my website at www.amyland.org/cakes. Just scroll to the end for the castle and number one gifts cake.
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Posted by amy on February 1st, 2009 — Posted in Mayor's Decree
According to the White House blog and several news agencies President Barack Obama has declared an emergency exists in the state of Arkansas. Rightfully so, but let me clarify that this declaration should have nothing to do with the recent weather. Ice and cold temps aside, there are some concerning things going on down here:
- I was in a meeting to learn more about company benefits when the presenter used the words “….so if you don’t got no diabetes then you won’t need to worry.”
- The local gas company wants to charge me an additional $3.95 to pay my bill online. Yes, they want me to pay an additional $3.95 so they have less paperwork and administrative duties.
- I ordered a bottle of wine and the server looked at me like I was crazy. She had to get special permission to sell it in a quantity other than by the glass.
- Depending on the time of day (most times) it can take you 20+minutes to get three miles because of bumper-to-bumper traffic.
- There was a menu item a a local Chinese restaurant – mayo shrimp – which looked just like fried shrimp drizzled with mayonnaise.
- I saw a flyer at work the other day that read “FREE popcorn in the breakroom. Proceeds will benefit the local children’s fund.” What proceeds? If it is free how are you collecting any money?
- The county jail has an outdoor sign with a running counter for the current number of inmates. Today’s inmate population was 427. It never goes below 400.
- There is ALWAYS a line at the Red Box DVD machine. Are they renting porn out of those things?
- People are still running around in all areas of public in their freakin’ pajamas and house slippers, even in sub-zero temperatures.
- Two words: dry county.
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Posted by amy on January 30th, 2009 — Posted in Mayor's Decree
America is a vast wasteland melting pot where one can find a mixture of food, fun and ideas that varies greatly even by a short distance. It is often easy to take the local flavor for granted assuming something is nearly a rule rather than an exception. Such was the case this week.
My new VP is in the process of relocating to Bentonville from Newark, New Jersey (can you say culture shock?). After a brief description of the “mystery meat” she encountered in an area restaurant I realized she was talking about chicken fried steak, a delicacy or abomination(depending on your culinary stamina) she had apparently never heard of before. Our team graciously clarified that it was not, in fact, chicken but rather cheap cube steak beaten to a pulp, battered, fried (like chicken) and topped with gravy. To serve without mashed potatoes and more gravy was criminal. She assured us she had received the requisite sides.
Her next culinary encounter was the serving of biscuits where ” people poured fluffy, white sauce on top.” Yes, biscuits and gravy (i.e., B&G) – another culinary delight of the heartland although not really too healthy for the heart. The latter she questioned which we replied: “Yes it’s full of cholesterol and fat but it’s Arkansas and no one cares.”
Salute to local delights and whatever trans-fats they may carry. Here are a few of my own regional indulgences. What are yours?
Chicago Style Pizza – Gino’s East
St. Louis Style Pizza – Balducchi’s
Guacamole and Chips – Garcia’s, Matamoros, Mexico
Fried Green Tomatoes – my dad’s
KC BBQ (preferred over any other style) – Jack Stack, Overland Park, KS
Memphis BBQ – Rendezvous, downtown Memphis
Clam Chowder – the Black Pearl, Newport, Rhode Island
Italian (in general) – Zia’s or Mama Campisi’s on The Hill
Parmesan Egg Salad Sandwiches – Pret a Manger (originally in London)
Cappuccino – Cimatori Bed & Breakfast in Florence
Springfield Style Cashew Chicken – looking for my new fave place
Mexican – Mexican Villa but it’s got to be the original on National
Spaghetti Bolognese – Il Gatto e la Volpe (The Cat & the Fox), Florence
Macaroni and Cheese – my mom’s
Shrimp Scampi – Anthony’s Fish Grotto, San Diego
Conch Fritters – Topsider, Bristol,RI
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Posted by amy on January 16th, 2009 — Posted in Mayor's Decree
My team has moved to a new floor of our office building. The cubes – or “poffices” as Wal-Mart likes to call them – are so small I am probably going to have to go on a diet to ensure I can fit myself, my trash can and a coffee mug into the space all at the same time.
The situation is intensified given that there are four of us in a bull pen-type setting. I envision spending most of my waking hours feeling like veal awaiting slaughter AND being compressed up into the personal space of three other people. Not only will I have a mental tally of my own work and personal tasks but apparently I can be intimately aware of whether my co-workers have used soap, what they are eating for lunch or if they are in need of a termite inspector or an annual exam.
We moved a week ago and still have to use the printer on the floor above us. There IS a printer on our floor but for reasons unexplainable to modern man it is not working and remains backed up like a fiber eschewing tortoise. It’s not that I mind the extra walking it’s just the inconvenience and the frustration of trekking upstairs to find your documents have vanished like cheap beer at a truck and tractor pull contest.
I guess I’ll survive just so long as they don’t take my stapler.
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