Reading a little about Estelle Getty's passing today, I was struck by the theme of perseverance. She held low-level office jobs for years, begging her employers not to promote her, so she wouldn't lose sight of her real dream of acting. When she finally landed the role of 80-year old Sophia at the age of 60 (after flunking her screen test twice because she came off too young), she quickly rose from bit character to part of the main ensemble, and won two Emmys.

True, Golden Girls was just a t.v. show. But it was well written, sharp, funny, and poignant, and included an elderly character with a beaded purse wedged into the crook of her arm who is a hard one for a lot of us to forget. After reading more about the woman behind the make-up, I realized that she lived her dream in every sense of the phrase. Kinda makes giving up on something in your thirties seem just plain silly, eh? 

You travelled down the road, and back again

Your heart is true, you're a pal and a confidante.

And if you threw a party! 

I-i-i-invited everyone you knew

You would see the biggest gift would be from me

and the card attached would say

Thank you for being a friend 

Which Golden Girl are you? 

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Sure, it's not a bad tune - danceable beat, catchy, and Perry has a nice voice. But people. Am I the only person who remembers that this theme has been covered already? Songs about kissing girls is SO 1995, literally!

Jill Sobule became a pop-rock hero for nerdy chicks everywhere when she released I Kissed A Girl and its accompanying video, featuring Fabio, who is also So 1995. Now, I'm not discounting the musical worthiness of Perry's tune, but I'm willing to bet that a big reason the song is so huge right now is its title. Dammit, you Millenials! Could you at least check with Gen X to see if we've done it already? Sure, there's a lot more of you than of us, but we have made our contributions to pop culture. 

Plus, Perry's title recycling is just one small example of a lot of retread going on in music, television, and film. We thought we'd never see anything quite like Can't Buy Me Love again ... but wait, this teen flick Love Don't Cost a Thing seems awfully familiar, albeit without Patrick Dempsey's gangly, pre-McDreamy charm. Frickin' Knight Rider is back on tv. The other day, I heard a cover of Genesis' Land of Confusion, and promptly decided that the original is better and that this new band, Disturbed, couldn't touch the original video with a 10-foot pole. Because everyone loves puppets - even if they're Republicans.

I'm really hoping the tide is going to turn soon and that a new wave of creative, dynamic material is going to gush forward. I've already seen grunge and Reality Bites. I am already down with OPP. I still can't afford my rock 'n roll lifestyle. Enough with the sampling, kids! And Dear God, don't go telling me I'm already retro.

What have you seen coming Back to the Future lately? 

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The festival is held in Greenfield, Mass.; it's the Commonwealth's newest city, and overall, a very progressive, growing place. I had a sneak peak into the planning of the event early last week, when I took a hot-air balloon ride as part of a media trip, but I didn't know what to expect other than the musical line-up and that blankets and outside food were allowed.

I bought tickets initially because Lucinda Williams was on the bill, and also because I love music fests in general and the tickets were ridiculously cheap ($40). ArcherVision and I arrived at about 3 p.m. on Saturday, and the field was already filled with a rainbow of people, tents, and beach umbrellas:

We'd brought a sad little array of supplies compared to most people - just a blanket, a picnic bag with drinks, cheese and crackers, and Snickers bars, a bag with emergency jeans and raincoats, and a little peace flag I usually attach to the back of my kayak. Other concert-goers had full camping tents, coolers full of drinks and food, tables and chairs, and kites flying above their sites - next year, I'm going full bore.

There were two stages - the main stage and a dance tent, which was packed as full as the main draw most of the day. The perimeter of the festival was lined with vendors and food booths that were not offering the normal concert fare - we saw summer rolls, pad thai, fried bananas, fried oysters, greek salads, kettle corn, gourmet ice cream ... the festival could have survived on the food component alone. I settled on fried clams, ArcherVision had a pulled pork bbq sandwich with pickled onions and orzo salad. I didn't get a picture of the latter until it was nearly gone, speaking to its awesomeness:

As for the music, this was one of the best mixes of performers I've seen in a long time, and I was exposed to some new sounds I plan on following, such as the alternative bluegrass band Crooked Still:

and the inexplicably INSANELY FANTASTIC Los Straitjackets. Now, the photo below will tell you a lot about them...

... but not the whole story. Yes, they have matching suits and guitars, wear full face masks, and choreograph their movements to the music. But Los Straitjackets also play Dicky-Dale-on-crack surf rock with incredible skill, and speak to the audience only in Spanish, even though their accents suggest they're from, like, Minnesota or somewhere. Another act, a singer named Big Sandy, joined them on stage for a few songs, also sung in Spanish.

There were a few local favorites playing in the dance tent, too, such as The Primate Fiasco and The Gokh-bi System.

This guy enjoyed both:

As night fell, Mavis Staples took the main stage. Staples was a 'freedom singer' during the Civil Rights Movment, often performing with or for Dr. Martin Luther King. In addition to a great set, she told stories about King, her father Pops Staples, and experiences with segregation in her childhood. The audience hung on her every word.

At the end of the night, Lucinda Williams came on stage as the headliner, and gave us a great set that was, however, very sparse on her hits. She avoided Car Wheels on a Gravel Road, Essence, and Righteously, but did kickin' versions of Joy and Come On. My photos are crap because it was dark, here's the best one:

There were other things that made the Green River Festival a good time, too. First, it was family friendly but not overrun with hot, cranky kids. It was also very well-organized, parking was close to the venue, and overall I thought the crowd ranked very low on the concert-asshole scale. There was a lot of camaraderie, not a lot of pushing, and a chill feeling even at the hottest point of the day. I'm already planning my campsite for next year - maybe something with a roasting spit ...

See the whole day on flickr here

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Sure, it's an adage that doesn't roll of the tongue that easily, but it's true nevertheless. I've attended many a benefit dinner with a deliberately over-sized purse. It's not just economics that make me take notice of the spread, though -- I'm a complete foodie, and thankfully, my job is one that allows for some liberal face-stuffing.

I have a flickr group called The Foodie Files where I post some of my plated adventures, like this sirloin and gnocchi parfait:

and this action shot of Shootflying Hill Dessert Sauce being made before I was able to taste-test it:

and these quenelles with Giraudet sauce, served at a Rhone-Alpes tasting dinner in Lyon, France:

But I'm always looking for something new and epicurious, whether I'm writing about it or not, and lately I've been taking notice of many of the fantastic foodie blogs out there, in an effort to further stretch my culinary muscle.

Here are a few of my favorites:

Bakerella

superfood

My Burning Kitchen

Dozen Flours

Steakhead's Atlanta Eats

Any other suggestions?

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Anyone who's seen my sidebar this week could have guessed what kind of products Retail Therapy Thursday would focus on today. But I'm not going to just shamelessly plug my own stuff - emphasis on just. 

I've been thinking about t-shirts for a while now. I have a larger-than-normal love for t-shirts, especially the kind that fit nicely. Especially the kind that fit nicely after 15 years.

But it's not just 100% cotton and pithy sayings across the chest that I enjoy; it's more the nostalgia factor. Think about it. Where do you buy your tees? Sure, a few come from Old Navy, but I'd wager your favorites are from concerts, plays, your alma mater, vacations, conferences and other little life moments that seem best commemorated with short sleeves. 

Plus, t-shirts have gotten so darn versatile! They're paired with jeans and skirts and shorts and swim trunks and the occasional sari. They're tiny fit, perfect fit, roomy fit, distressed, pressed, and dyed-to-match. The great ones, we wear out on a Saturday night. The veterans retire to the bedroom where they become well-worn sleep shirts.

What. Is not. To love.

So with this in mind, I whipped up a few shirts in honor of something else I love - TSB, the rockin', ever-growing group of Gen X bloggers that WILL be on Oprah, making Oprah laugh at our awesome jokes some day. They're pretty simple, but some thought did go into the designs, as in the shirt above. First, the text is our trademark green. The logo is also on the smaller side, because t-shirts with New York Post-style headlines are so 1998. And finally, the shirt above is part of Zazzle's sustainable clothing line, which I appreciate. 

I also created a TSB shirt for dudes and a couple of products for kids, as well as a few t-shirt ideas I had kicking around in my head that I hope catch on in the Geek Community. This is my favorite, because it applies to many different types of people:

I've asked some of my fellow thirty-something bloggers to let me know if they're selling any merch, so we can continue to build our empire spread the love. We might even start a directory, so all of your hipster shopping needs can be met in just a few easy clicks. (Too HSN?)

I know of a few entrepreneurial souls among the ranks already - The Slackmistress, for instance, just launched her own line of Slackstuff for her trusty band of minion-followers, which includes t-shirts, but also magnets, bumper stickers, and my personal fave, the slacktie. 

What are some of your favorite online wares? Or how about your favorite tee?

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My friends at Winstanley Associates sent me their latest wacky creation, the Pet Peeve. It's actually an empty box - something they've had success with before -- but the cool factor here is that the packaging directs you to a Web site where you really can air your grievances.

Peeves already posted range from 'people who say on line instead of in line' to 'agency owners who create inane promotions I'm compelled to respond to.' There's also space to 're-peeve,' or comment on other people's peeves.

Hint: click on The Pet Peeve on the right of the screen for 14-year-old fun.

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Ok, so sometimes, Moday's turn out to be better than you think. Sometimes a perk comes along and drops into your lap, as if from out of the sky.

Such was the case yesterday - here I am, trudging through e-mails and manila folders with one eye on the clock as it crept through the afternoon, when the phone rings. Instead of getting the fifth Bad Pitch of the day, however, I got an invite to a media event. 

In a hot-air balloon.

It was about 1 pm when I got the call, and lift-off was at 6 pm in beautiful, bucolic Greenfield - the heart of Franklin County in Massachusetts, and also the host city for the annual Green River Festival, for which, oddly enough, I have tickets. Coordinators had devised a media flight to tout the festival and its obvious balloon component,  and to help drum up sponsors for the 2009 festival. I have no idea how I ended up on their radar screen, but hey, no complaints.

I jumped into the trusty Scion with little more than a Randy Marsh 'See Ya' to my editor, and headed up to where the trees grow tall and the air seems a little cleaner. Ah, Franklin County, with your rolling hills and responsible energy policies. And people call Boston the Hub!

This was to be my first hot-air balloon flight, so I may have pushed the pedal to the metal a bit. I got to 'the flight site' about 20 minutes early, sat in on some planning chatter among the festival committee that only got me more excited about Saturday's event, and then turned my attention to Paul Sena and his crew as they hauled a balloon and basket onto the field that I later found out was named the ThunderBuster.

Only as Paul told me, you can't just say 'that balloon is called the ThunderBuster.' Nay, you have to say THUUUUUNDERBUSTERRRRR! Fine with me.

Here is where the first of a number of misconceptions I had about  balloon flight was dispelled; it doesn't take forever to blow up a hot-air balloon, it actually only takes about 20 minutes from rolling out the canvas to seeing it pop into the sky over the basket.

Here are a few more things I didn't know, because apparently I'm a little thick when it comes to aviation:

• I did not need the sweater I brought along for the ride. We were not leaving the earth's atmosphere.

• Balloons aren't really steered to the left or right; they go up, down, and where the wind takes them.

• Balloon flight is not loud, except when the fire is shot into the canvas, and even that's not that loud.

• You don't turn around and go back where you came from in a balloon. I almost hate to admit that's what I always assumed. It's actually much cooler - a chase car follows the balloon, and the crew inside parks where the craft decides to land and grabs lines to hold it down.

Once the balloon was inflated, the pilot and two other riders (I was the only member of the press that responded to the call; seriously? Seriously.) and I climbed in via a precarious little step and peered down as we lifted from the ground, people waving goodbye as we floated away. We did a 'touch and go' so Paul could show us how the basket lands - with a bit of a thud, a pitch, and a drag. Not so much to be unnerving, but there was instruction to bend our legs at touchdown, so me with the wrecked left knee was appreciative of the dry run.

Then, we rose - higher and higher, the shadow of the balloon getting smaller by the foot (about 4,000 of them), and the farmland of Franklin County stretching out below us. This is by far the best way to sight-see, and it was only made better by people in cars and even on foot waving to us as we sailed by. Although so high up in the air, they were able to see us and even yell hellos - we saw some backyard barbecue-ers, and asked them to cook extra burgers for us as they flailed their spatulas in our direction.  

After flying over neighborhoods, streets, Little League games, and row upon row of corn fields, Paul started looking for a place to land and talking to the chase car via Walkie-Talkie. They suggested a field that we missed, and later a cemetery that was a little too close to some power lines. We had an up-close-and-personal encounter with a tree, but Paul assured us that with a little burst of flame, we'd fly right over it, and we did.

On the other side of the tree line was a small neighborhood, and it was here Paul decided to land. The chase car in hot pursuit, we began to descend onto the backyard of a private home. The husband and wife owners of the house ran out frantically - the former looking a little concerned at first, the latter snapping pictures with a huge grin on her face. The neighbors came out of their houses, too, crowding around and waving and shooting photos, and we gently bounced to a stop without leaving a mark on the lawn.

One at a time as the balloon began to deflate, we scrambled out of the basket and threw our bodies onto the canvas to help push the air out, so the balloon could be gathered into its carrying bag. A round of applause for Paul followed, and another for the homeowners, who were presented with a bottle of champagne for serving as a landing pad. The woman who lived there was thrilled; she said in the 20-plus years the Green River music and balloon festival had been staged in her hometown, she'd always dreamed a balloon would land in her yard, and now, her dream had come true.

She, her husband, and their neighbors waved goodbye as we left in the chase car - the goodwill was really inspiring - and we trekked back to our cars as the sun set. Back at home base, Paul and his wife set up a little table with cheese, crackers, chips, and champagne, and toasted us for completing our first balloon flight.

With luck, I'll actually get to see Paul and my fellow riders on Saturday when I attend the concert, making my little Monday excursion even more worthwhile. Paul said no matter what the circumstances, as a pilot he's realized that a hot-air balloon flight is one of those things people like to "cross of their Bucket Lists." It's now crossed off mine, making room for even more flights of fancy. 

See the whole trip on flickr here 

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The lead-in is my favorite part - it's very dramatic.  But the whole story is well-balanced and well-reported, and as someone who straddles the fence between media and media relations, I can appreciate that it could have gone either way. Props to reporter Shannon Hegy - she did a great job and I think this spot is better than many. 

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It's 3:18 and I'm anxiously awaiting the 6 o'clock news. After a whirlwind of activity last night and this morning, I was able to secure Del Padre Digital, for which I'm a part-time publicist when not toiling away in business and travel writing, a spot on an ABC affiliate, talking up a project they're working on.

I guessed and was correct that the daily media was salivating yesterday for anything and everything with a whiff of eau d'iPhone, so after a full day at my full-time gig alternately working and following the frantic tweets of Twitter-folk standing in line waiting for their iPhones, trying to activate their iPhones, failing to activate their iPhones, and finally playing with their iPhones with the glee of a kid on a Big Wheel, I called the Del Padre dudes.

Actually, first I posted on Twitter that the company was working on a project with an extremely tight deadline to promote MODE for iPhone, an audio interface made by SpeakerCraft that allows a home audio system to be controlled by the iPhone or up to six different iPhones (like in a geek bachelor pad). Then I called and said they should try to get some press. Details.

At that point, it was already 5 p.m. and my hopes weren't high for CNN or MSNBC (they wouldn't have been high at noon on a Tuesday either, however). So, I pinged HARO in the off chance that there was a sudden demand for newsbits on interactive media companies pulling an all-nighter to get a marketing vehicle out for a non-Apple iPhone product. Then, I sent a quick press release to the regional t.v. stations and the dailies, and threw a short version thereof up here, at The Jump, where all technology journalists are sure to stop by. Snort.

At 8 o'clock, however, the Doink Fairy - the sprite that makes stories fall through in newsrooms everywhere, struck. A producer from the ABC station called and asked if he could send a crew in a half an hour, and The Machine went into Spin Cycle.

NDP had to finish a host of tasks for the project last night including design, animation, HD video shoots, and plenty of editing. The original plan was to meet with a reporter for a quick spot to include with their iPhone coverge, have the usual suspects say a few words about the product they're promoting and the tight deadline influenced by iPhone 3G craze, slip in a bit about MODE and what it does, and get back to the nitty-gritty.

Instead, the whole thing turned into a two-day affair, though not an unwelcome one. A first crew came out last night - not to Del Padre headquarters, but to NDP's house, where he'd been working before the media blitz. They asked a few questions and shot some B-roll, and asked if they could return in the morning to shoot sort of the aftermath portion of an all-night multimedia brew-haha and conduct interviews at that time.

Poor NDP. After working through the night, we propped him up in front of the camera late this morning to expound on the intricacies of 3D rendering. The crew LOVED that he was wearing the same clothes as the night before - I can't say he was as thrilled. It did help, however that Shannon, the reporter, was great. She asked a lot of smart questions and seemed genuinely interested in the story, and hopeful that Del Padre Digital would finish in time and that NDP could change his shirt.

In a couple of hours, we'll be able to see the fruits of our labor, so I'm glad I had a burst of energy yesterday and took a shot. Ah, the joys of Apple. They're even makin' me look good.

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Karen & Eddie

The Dennis Inn,

 Cape Cod

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Ask my fellow bloggers and campadres NDP and ArcherVision what they do for a living, however, and you'll get a variety of answers. Producers. Filmmakers. Animators. Interanifilmowebbers. Whatever's en vogue in the new media world that hour week.

Most often, though, they just say they do stuff. As in, 'We do stuff. We get stuff done.'

They're men of few words, but they've found a way around the grunts and fake techno-terms (like techno-terms). When asked what the dudes do at DPD, all of us around them can now joyfully direct people to this handy little piece of AnimamultiWebpromedia goodness. 

Del Padre Digital Production Company Demo Reel 2008

 DVP is now DPD.  

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We did take in the parade, though, however damp it was. A few highlights:

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It's the simple things that thrill me, and as such I don't think my goals in life are so lofty. In fact, I think they're becoming less lofty -- loftyless -- by the day. I don't think I'm the only one, either. There seems to be a movement afoot to clear all the junk off of our proverbial plates, and I couldn't be happier. As a member of Gen X, I'm pretty used to being called a slacker, so why not embrace it? 

Well, no, I'm not a slacker. I'm far too Type A for that. But when I think about what I want to accomplish in life (and also of what I've already accomplished; don't be afraid to pat yourselves on the back, people!) the bullet list leaves a lot of room for relaxation. And that, really, should be goal number one.

Because it seems to be one thing I can't even come close to achieving (that and adding three-digit numbers together in my head). 

Here are a few of my goals in life as of late, for instance:

• I'd really like to see one of my photos on a Jones Soda  label. I have entered  in the past, but no dice yet. I could always circumvent the whole selection process and just  order  a six-pack of root beer featuring my own label, but the thought of seeing my creation in the soda case at Walgreens makes me positively giddy.

• I've been thinking I want to find a DJ  to mentor me. Not a wedding DJ, mind you, but someone who can show me how to mash up tracks and stuff - so I could be the musical act at house parties or in the beer tent at various low-level music festivals. I've been a musician for so long it's time to try something new, and besides, I look great in headphones. They mask my micro-ears.

• I've been seriously contemplating going blonde. I've already gone red, black, and green in the past, so what the hell. It's hair.

• Sure, I still want to write the Great American Novel, and this is something that will require more work than manicures, but I haven't settled on a topic yet so I'm not running headlong into this task. I'd be happier with completing the outstanding travel story goNomad  is waiting on and delivering the wedding photos I shot two months ago to the anxious couple. After that ... I look forward to at least a month of 'soul-searching' and 'formulating ideas in my head.' (Read: yoga and home decor magazines).

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I had a lot of writing to do this week in addition to going viral, and thankfully the topics I covered were pretty interesting. I wrote a little about Stormy the helpful pollution duck at Think Blue , and about Friendly ice cream's new foray into producing biodiesel using vegetable oil from the fryolators, for example. 

I really need to go help the environment and order a turkey Supermelt or a Fishamajig soon.

All of this intrepid reporting in family restaurants, on riverbanks, and YouTube is why The Jump has been The Vast Wasteland of Two-week-old Posts, but at least I'm ending on a journalistic high-note as I head out for a little while. Yes kids, hold your applause tears, WriterJax will be on hiatus for a little while, returning to its former glory in the dog-days of July. It will be the first time in years I'll be traveling for a reason other than my job, and while travel writing is no day in the mines, a girl's gotta do her own thing some of the time.

That said, I will leave you with something I know you're going to want to revisit a few times in my absence. This is one of the best things I've found on the Internets in a long time, and also likely to become one of my favorite videos of all time. 

So, behold! And remember:

"I'm doin' the things that I wanna do - I ain't got a thing to prove to you ... I ain't gonna wear the clothes that you like, I'm fine and dandy with the me inside." 

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For months, we've been talking in code at my office.

"Where's the 40 folder?" "Are we doing open bar at the 40?" "Those are for The 40."

We've been so wrapped up in this lingo that it's been hard to decode for outsiders. But now that we've put our magazine's biggest event of the year behind us, let the translation begin.

For those of you who don't know, 'Forty Under 40' is sort of a brand in the business journal world. There's no single entity that controls these contests, but many journals across the country hold annual Forty Under 40 competitions within their readership area, to cull 40 of the most promising young professionals in the region and give them their comeuppance. Journals and magazines take on the project in varying degrees of grandiosity (yes, that is a word; I looked it up), but there's usually a print component - a list of The 40 with a photo, for instance, and an event such as a dinner or awards ceremony.

That's about all we knew at my office two years ago, when we decided to launch our first Forty Under 40. Eighty recipients later, I'd like to think that we're just hitting our stride, but with wisdom infinitely more far-reaching than when we bought into this crazy idea.

To give you an inside look at the planning, here's the low-down on the hoe-down:

Meetings (yay, meetings!) begin about six months ahead of time. There's a venue to secure, marketing materials to design, nomination forms to draft, judges to pick ... we're a one-stop shop, you see. Event planners? Nevah!

From there, we start hyping the nomination process, as well as the issue and party that announce and celebrate the winners. We schmooze at after-fives here and there, mention it at our appointments ... grass-roots efforts at their best. Then, when we get closer to nomination time, we write and record our own radio spots. Fellow writer Joe and I usually take on this part

...but in the meantime the bulk of the nitty-gritty is getting done by our magazine's sales manager and the marketing coordinator. Joe and I just run lines with each other and play with the background music tracks with the producer.

The nomination forms are posted on our Web site and placed in print issues, and since we're only two years into this process, we still watch the mail and the fax machine to see them trickle in. Then we fight over who gets to look at it first like ducks over a breadcrumb, before ithey're placed, carefully, into a manila envelope with the others.

The real whirring begins when the deadline for nominations is reached and we start collecting the forms to send to the judges. We don't have any say in who's picked - last year, it was three outside judges from the business community, and this year, there were five. Five bulging FedEx boxes went out ... five thin envelopes with scores came back. The top 40 are skimmed off the top, and we get very acquainted with that group over the next few months. The creepy thing for them, though, is most don't ever see any of us until the big party.

Joe, our editor, me, and a freelancer split up The 40 in groups of ten and start calling them, to have informal chats about the information on their nomination forms, their goals, hobbies... basically everything that makes them stellar. These are compiled into a pull-out section in a special issue, and paired with photos - one of my favorite aspects of the whole process. For the last two years, this studio has taken the photos of our winners, who are asked to bring props to illustrate their jobs, pasttimes, or something else they're passionate about, like their families and pets.

Here's my favorite from this year:

Once the issue drops, there's mayhem in the streets! Extra! Extra! Readalluhboutit! The Forty Under 40 are here!

Well, there is a buzz, I can say that much. That's what sustains the office as we pause only to take a breath and leap right into event planning 101. We decided as a team last year to keep our event as hip and low-stress as possible, to be a good fit with the winners and their colleagues and friends. Instead of a sit-down dinner, for example, we have station-service, and we ask the venue (we've had two different locations so far) to work with us to create a trendy-but-cohesive menu. I'm pretty sure that at some point, someone from our office has actually said trendy-but-cohesive in conversation. Last year, the big hits were the risotto bar and the fresh mojitos. This year, Go Green salad and the paella table were popular. I was a fan, however, of the beignets. Fancy name for doughnut in a cup. Doooouughhhhnuuuut.

The party itself is a fun event, as illustrated here by Forty Under 40 winner Brendan Ciecko and the ice sculpture:

 

We set up the stage, the sponsor tables, the schwag, the awards, and the welcome table, and finished this time around with enough time for food:

The quick-change from set-up crew to professional magazine staff in semi-formal attire is not an easy feat, though. Two years running, we've been able to, thankfully, make use of the venues' bridal suites to look more presentable, and two years running a bunch of 30-plus-year-olds have turned into a gaggle of prom goers on Red Bull. It's amazing any of us escaped without curling iron burns on our foreheads.

But as the guests arrive feeling the excitement of an event about to begin, we're feeling the denouement of a process that's nearing its close. I think this collision created a great energy for the gala this year; the crowd was into it, we were relaxed - or relaxing - and there were no major issues. The next day, rolling into the office in varying degrees of acceptably tardy, we reflected on The 40 gala and decided it had been a smash, while tempering our relief and pride by talking about how we'll do even better next year. We'll start marketing earlier, for instance, and maybe hold a press conference to announce next year's venue and get the buzz going sooner.

There's not much time to dwell at any rate - it won't be long until the whole process starts again. If that's what I have to do to get a doughnut in a cup, so be it.

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I started the weekend off, however, trying out a new recipe from Bakerella, the Queen of Cupcakes and all things yummy. I was a little timid after painstakingly creating a braciole from the Good Eats Web site a couple of weeks ago that was more like a salt lick than an Italian delicacy, so I decided to give one of the more simple-looking recipes a try -- peanut butter balls.

 Success, and my hat off to Bakerella. She's a culinary genius for World 2.0. The secret is in the Nutter Butters ...

 and the dipping is relatively easy. Mine aren't as symmetrical as Bakerella's but still tasty.

 On Saturday, the highlight of the day had to have been a random, huge flea market we happened upon. Apparently Steve McQueen was there before us:

And in the evening, it was off to dinner at one of my favorite places, Cal's, and then to join the rest of humanity in seeing the new Indiana Jones flick. For what it's worth, I'm glad we went, and it was good for what it's intended to be; a transition piece introducing Shia LeBoeuf as the next generation Indy (aka Mutt). Still, it's no Temple of Doom, but I don't think anyone expected it to be.

It was around the credits that my second major allergy attack of the season set in, thus setting the tone for the rest of the weekend - sniffly, ears plugged, throat scratchy, ARGH! I muscled through with some craft projects (started repainting the front porch planters, more on that later) and a CSI marathon on Spike TV. Which apparently is the 'man channel.' Whatever. 

I also pulled out one of my older yoga DVDs, since I wasn't going to make it to the gym. It's actually a DVD with a companion book:

 ...and not a bad 30-minute cycle at all. It's pretty low-budget - just Yolanda and an Oriental rug, really - but it's low-stress enough that I went through the cycle twice.

Now, it's back to the grind ... thankful for the short week, though. Meatier posts to come soon, including a 40 under 40 recap and a review of Marie Antoinette: The Journey, which my faithful readers know took me about four and a half years to finish (maybe more like eight months. But still. Eight months? Stop falling asleep with the book on your face, Grandma.) 

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Everyone up 'n left immediately after the last tape in the batch ended, with Leatherface waving his chainsaw in the air at the permanently damaged heroine escaping in the back of a pick-up truck.

I love horror movies. But I was shelled. And when I suddenly found myself completely alone in a big house in the woods of Cape Cod, the terror of that sick flick only grew. It still freaks me out - even the bad remakes and sequels and prequels are disturbing.

However, it's the dawn of a kindler, gentler new day for Texas, Chainsaws, and Massacres. This weekend, back at the Cape to do some event planning, I had one of the best sandwiches I've ever had by the same name, at the Box Office Cafe in Chatham, where all of the sandwiches, drinks, and pizzas are named after movies (I blogged about the place once before here).

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre isn't messy nor does it contain people, so I'm not sure where it got its name, but here's the lineup: cracked pepper turkey, roast beef, pesto, mayo, tomato, and mozzarella cheese on a toasted ciabatta. Killer.

Some of the other offerings include The Poseidon (tuna), The Rocky (Italian), The Animal House (meatball sub), and The Caddy Shack (a club sub). As for pizza, there's the Good Night and Good Luck, for one -- described as topped with garlic, garlic, tomatoes, and more garlic -- and for breakfast, there's a selection of sandwiches all named after directors. Where else are you going to walk in and say "Uh, yeah, hi. I'll have a medium coffee and an Erich Von Stroheim. Thanks."

Plus, the Box Office has a cute mini-store with mugs, totes, and t-shirts like these:

After lunch, there were other interesting things happening on the Cape of Cod this weekend: we spotted a cruise night sponsored by the Cape Cod Classic Car Club in Dennis, for instance:

And on Saturday night, we caught Earth Junior at Arturo's. EJ is my brother's band - a surf rock trio that's been playing on the cape for more than a decade. They treated the crowd to Sweet Caroline during the seventh inning of the Red Sox game:

My brother told me he hated the rendition, but I had to share it with Red Sox Nation. And besides, it's not like they massacred it or anything.

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"Wacky Mac" multi-colored veggie rotini, ranch dressing, lemon juice, parm. cheese, salt and pepper, balsamic vinegar, yellow pepper, tomato, scallions, and broccoli. The bowl is from Homegoods.

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Roll with it.

1. I hate it when people try to make me feel, ironically, stupid for using a word, term, or topic in conversation they don't understand. This goes back to high school for me, but now, as a gainfully employed woman who writes for a living, I'm ready for y'all to shut it already. It's not like I'm quoting Proust or something. And if you just asked what I meant, you'd know something new you didn't know before. Trust me- this would make you a better person and probably a lot funnier. 

But I do like - daisies. They're sunny and simple, like nature's vapid little Homecoming Queen.

2. I hate it when I'm interrupted in the middle of a sentence, especially when the interrupter was not part of the conversation to begin with. It's not cool, so stop it. You're not that important.

But I do like - Karamel Sutra ice cream from Ben and Jerry's. I like it so much I won't smear it all over your face when you interrupt me, because I would not want to waste any of the delicious caramel core inside. 

3. An addendum to number one - people who assume they know everything and go through life saying supposably, expresso, prostrate cancer, and irregardless.

But i do like - espresso with a nice chocolate chip croissant.

4. I hate women who think it's cute to act dumb or talk like children. You're setting all of us back decades everytime you giggle and twirl your hair and say 'Iiiiiiii dooooon'ttt knoooowwww.'

But I do like - Falling asleep to a thunderstorm. Serenity Now.

 5. Conversely, I also can't stand children who act like adults. Mostly little actors. The only motivation a 5-year-old should have is Chicken McNuggets or an extra half-hour of Dora.

But I do like - scarves and hats. And playing dress-up. 

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i started feeling like dookie two days ago and now i'm at the peak of illness- that snotty, nasty, congested, nauseous, listless, and too tired to sleep point of the sickness. you know what i mean.

today is deadline day at the full-time office job, so yesterday and this morning were not ideal times to be under the weather. i stayed at home yesterday and wrote a full story and three-quarters of another, but it took me from 6 am to 10 pm with intermittent sleep- and whining-breaks interspersed throughout. this morning i went to work until 11:30, came home, and fell asleep for what i thought was a couple of hours - the clock read 5:35. oops.

...so i've been catching up on the blogosphere with what little strength i have, and what a day it's been in virtual-land. The DOOCE Heather Armstrong herself was on the Today Show talking to Hoda Kotb and Kathie Lee Gifford, and she did a great job. I loved her cute dress and restraint in speaking with Gramma Gifford about "bahLOGing??" KLG kept stepping on Heather's words and trying to relate to the television audience by exclaiming wildly about this new-fangled fad called the Internet. Then, when Heather tried to make a point about boundaries and blog safety by comparing her online habits to the pros and cons of living in New York City, Frank's Wife cut her off a-gain by yelping "BUT I DON'T LIVE IN NEW YORK! HA-HA!"

"HA-HA?" This must be why I don't watch morning television. That, and I'm generally asleep.

I also got to catch up on the news of some of my favorite bloggers (or webblers as we like to call them over at TSB), including Nanette, Keely, and The Slack Mistress, as well as some I don't read every day, like Rosie O'donnell's r blog. I'm not sure what led me over to her blog today, but it's quite nice. She posts videos set to great music and clips from rehearsals for her upcoming Broadway show, No No Nanette (no relation to the blogger above). Rosie gets a lot of flack for being too political, too vocal, blahblahblah, but that's not what her blog is about. It's just about life, and I think I'm going to check her out more often.

I must be feeling a little better, since I started capitalizing again. But since I'm sure this won't last long, I'm off to watch Family Guy and Top Chef. The former being about where my brain is right now.

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At first, I thought I might have violated a copyright issue because my shaky camera work short film includes a soundtrack by the band Bow Wow Wow. But it's still available on flickr, it just won't work here.

I know some flickr videos, like this one, embed just fine, so I'll keep investigating. That said, here is a YouTube fall back.

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