All posts for the month January, 2012


Published January 17, 2012 by Kim

I’m a Southerner–bred, born, and raised in the South–and if there’s one thing we love down here, it’s tea.

Yes, we drink it cold. Brew it, jug it, cool it down (or pour it over ice, if we’re in a hurry). The colder the better (and I suppose I should admit ice is in there, anyway). I’ve always been a Lipton girl, myself; Luzianne never tastes quite right. I’m also a fan of Harney & Sons Cinnamon Spice tea, as well as a good English Breakfast. I still need a bit of sweet, though.

For the record, “instant” tea is anathema, and should be outlawed. Brew it, or don’t drink it at all.


Back in 2002, my husband and I went on an Alaskan cruise. I think we were the youngest guests on board, and probably the only ones from below the Mason-Dixon line. Here’s how our first night at dinner went (bearing in mind soft drinks cost extra, while the dinner was included in our fare)–

Waiter: “What would you like to drink?”

Us: “What do you have, other than soft drinks?”

Waiter: “Bottled water, tea, milk…” (the rest we didn’t hear)

Us: “Tea.”

Waiter: “Okay, tea.”

Us: “Wait–is it sweet?”

Waiter: (looking as if we’d sprouted third eyes in the middle of our foreheads) “No, but you can add sugar.”

(Now, anyone who knows anything about sugar knows it will not dissolve in cold tea.)

Us: “Oh, no–can we get it hot?”

Waiter: “Absolutely.”

Thus was set a precedent for every meal of the trip. We came to dinner, our waiter (Rue? Rui? I forget) brought us these adorable little teapots and cups. We steeped, we poured, we sweetened, we drank. Rinse and repeat, feel wonderful from all the delightful flavonoids.

Here is what happened about midway through the trip, after some introductions to a couple absent from the table those first few nights–

Table Guest 1: “What are you drinking?”

Us: “Tea.”

Table Guest 2: “Are you English?”

Us: (dumbfounded) “Uh, no. We’re from North Carolina.”

Table Guest 2: “Do you always drink hot tea?”

Us: “No, we usually drink sweet tea–iced tea. But we like hot tea, too.”

Table Guest 2: “Oh.”

Now, if I may point out again, we are from the South. The American South. We sound, in no way, as if we are from any part of Great Britain. I was amused (mightily) at the assumption that tea drinker = English. It made me wonder if, by enjoying biscotti, they would’ve assumed we were Italian. Would I also be French if I publicly confessed my love of crêpes? Does a fajita craving make me Mexican?

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a kettle to put on to boil. Oh–if you’re wondering, I do have a whistling kettle, but I use my electric one more often. A Southern girl can have her tea in a thoroughly modern way, you know.


Writing, or: How I have no staying power

Published January 13, 2012 by Kim


Seriously, though, despite my juvenile attempts at humor in the title to this post, this is a problem for me worthy of a “little blue pill” of its own.

I love to write–hoo, boy, do I ever. I love words: the variety, the nuances in meaning, word play, double entendres, the power of them. Words can wound or heal, carry you to exquisite heights or dash you against the proverbial rocks; they communicate great beauty in the most poetic of ways, or cut to the quick in their brevity. Oh, writing–wielding those little daggers–is extremely satisfying.

Except I am incapable of finishing anything I start. I don’t know why that is…being easily distracted? losing the fire of inspiration once the trigger-thought is put down? Both are true. Yet, I still find the original ideas percolating in my head–snippets of lives, glimpses of events in a character’s history, all just simmering in my brain, but never coming to use. It’s frustrating. I keep telling myself, “This time, I’ll plot out the story first. Get the beginning, the conflict, the resolution–all of it–sketched out before I start. Then I won’t let it fall to the wayside!” Of course, I never get around to doing that, either.

It’s very disheartening to have a dream that is self-sabotaged. I know I’m not a great writer–I lack the ingenuity to warrant anything more than “okay”–but I think I’m capable of something worthwhile. I only wish I could sit down, focus, and get some of these ideas (and I have several) completed.

Pardon me, your geek is showing

Published January 10, 2012 by Kim

Hubby is on our bed, watching a live stream from CES (via TWiT)…a few minutes ago, there was a brief discussion about the Qualcomm/X Prize Foundation announcement of a Tricorder prize (in short, build a functioning tricorder, à la Star Trek, win $10 million). Hubby remarked  that he didn’t see how it would be useful as a medical device–

Me: I don’t see why not. It was a diagnostic tool.

Him: (blank look)

Me: They used it on away missions–you know, scan an object, determine if it’s poisonous or something.

Him: Oh, that thing.

Me: And then they used it in sick bay, to diagnose injuries and things.

Him: I had it confused with something else. (laughs) Kirk out!

Me: (glaring) That was a communicator.

Him: (eyebrow)

Me: (blush) So says the girl who watches too much television.

Meanwhile, a tricorder would be awesome.

Christmas fallout and (another) New Year’s plan

Published January 5, 2012 by Kim

To avoid the risk of falling into the tl;dr trap, I’ll make the Christmas bit brief:

I caused problems at my in-laws’ house. Why? They bought my son a Kindle Fire because he asked for one. He’s six. He wants it for games.

We were not consulted about this purchase. I went thermonuclear when I saw it–a $200 gadget in the hands of a first-grader. A gadget for which I am financially responsible in supplying books or games to be used on it. A gadget he does not need, because he is addicted to games and won’t do his schoolwork if permitted to play them.

So, yeah. I got mad, said some stuff, and angered my in-laws. MiL has spoken to me once since Christmas Eve, and that was to ask where her son was (she then called his cell). Needless to say, this is all very awkward. Especially on Sunday night suppers at their house. :/

Moving on…

A good friend and I are considering joining Weight Watchers Online together. She lives in Cali, I’m in North Carolina…I hate groups of people, she–well, she’s pretty good with people, but I think we both wouldn’t exactly enjoy the meetings and weigh-ins. (Actually, we’re hashing out whether to pay-and-play or not even as I’m posting this.)

Oooh, my phone is vibrating. Hang on…

Okay, so we’re both going for it. I’m actually kind of excited I’m the world’s worst at maintaining my course on something. Having someone with me that understands how women plateau when losing weight–more quickly then men–and how hard it is to say no to something delicious…

Disneyland churros cart (from

Here is where happiness is bought. Warm, cinnamony happiness.

Having a partner ought to be a huge motivator, right? I just hope I can be encouraging for her, too. It’s tough being the “big” girl and looking at all the adorable clothes that you want and can’t wear. (I’m looking at you, ModCloth.) And–vanity aside–it’ll be good for both of us, health-wise. I just really, really have to work at this!
Let’s see if I can’t ring in New Year’s 2013 with a waistline I’m not ashamed of. (Related: let’s hope the girls don’t get smaller while I’m at it. Seriously.)


Published January 3, 2012 by Kim

So, erm…last night, I dreamt about kissing Nathan Fillion. Sometime in December, it was David Tennant. (FWIW, of the two, Tennant was much better. I wouldn’t kick Fillion out of bed for eating crackers, though.)

I’m not really sure what’s prompted these dreams, but I’m certainly enjoying them. 😉

Filed under Somewhat Related: the Hubby and I finally watched the BBCA special of The Nerdist (with Wil “don’t be a dick” Wheaton and the afore-mentioned Nathan Fillion) and had a seriously good laugh at the two of them. Wheaton was asked to explain to the audience what he and Fillion had been talking about during a commercial break. Interestingly enough, it’s that Fillion is on Wheaton’s wife’s list. You know, That List. The freebie one? (Yeah, well, Fillion’s on mine, too.) There’s a point where Hardwick makes a crack about Anne actually having a chance at meeting Fillion, and what would Wil do? Allow it. Wil said something to the effect of winning all the points and never having to take the trash out, ever again. Gotta love the man’s logic. XD

To which my Hubby stated, “I would, too. You could never say no to me for anything, ever.”

No, I didn’t tell him about my dreams. I’m not crazy! 😉