Tout de meme

I got tagged a few weeks ago by Jen A to do a meme. The rules, which I may or may not follow one hundred percent, are as follows:

1. Write your own six-word memoir.
   
2. Post it on your blog. Include a visual illustration if you’re so inclined.
   
3. Link to the person that tagged you, and to the original post if possible so the meme-gods can track it.
   
4. Tag at least five more blogs with links.
   
5. Don’t forget to leave a comment on the tagged blogs with an invitation to play!
   

Before now, "meme" was nothing more to me than a funny-sounding word to giggle at and pronounce in a dozen different ways (it's really pronounced "mem"). As it turns out (thanks to Merriam-Webster) the word meme stems from the same root as mimesis, which is a term I totally understand, thanks to study in Aesthetics and art criticism! But the blogger-appropriated term, meme, should not be confused with the original term used to describe the human behavior of passing on cultural activity; nor should it be confused with the French word for "same," which is a keystone element of the expression, plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose -- one which I will now aim to drop into casual conversation as often as possible to sound, you know, Frenchier.

In fact, I'm not exactly sure how "meme" actually applies to this activity, because it's not so much a cultural behavior or act of voluntary imitation, as it is a sort of interactive chain blog post, like those "send this to everyone you know including the person who sent it to you" e-mails. If you think can provide a clear, *concise* explanation as to why and how "meme" is an accurate term to describe the above challenge, please do.

(And I'm still wondering who the meme-gods are.)

Now the assignment is a six-word "memoir," but I'm only 25.5 -- am I *really* old enough to start thinking about a memoir? I don't think so.

{Neurotic perfectionist to a pathological degree}

So because I'm an artist who's not afraid to take advantage of my creative birthright on my own blog, and because I don't believe these so-called "meme-gods" are going to strike me down with a bolt of lightning or 10 plagues or a great flood, and MOST OF ALL because meme is an appropriated term anyway, I'm going to appropriate "memoir" and create my own context. Thus, my response is something more akin to a mission statement or slogan (which is probably not far off from the goal of the challenge anyway -- I'm sure it's all just semantics -- but it feels good to think I'm breaking the mold), presented in business card format. But it fits, tout de même.

America's finest news source

I've made a habit of reading The Onion daily because darnit it's just my style. And while all of the articles make me laugh, or at least crack a smile, occasionally I'll come across one that's just *SPECIAL* -- that I connect with on a deeply personal level, and I laugh until I can't breathe or fall out of my chair, whichever comes first.

This is one of THOSE. (And if you're with me on my burgeoning crusade to prevent semi-colon abuse, you'll get it. Totally.)

Commas, Turning Up, Everywhere

Gift wrap

There comes a time in every woman's life when she is faced with a seemingly insurmountable challenge, a problem with no clear solution, and she must look into the farthest reaches of her soul, take a deep breath, and ask herself one question.

What would Martha do?

Jen B's bridal shower was yesterday. Since lemonade is her *favorite* beverage, and she is a soon-to-be Southern hostess, I thought that I'd give her a lemonade set. In fact, I *created* a lemonade set, searching high and low, online and off to find just the right serving tray, glasses and pitcher. And I threw in some super cool screen-printed lettuce and tomato dishtowels from Crate and Barrel (because you can never have too many dishtowels).

The problem was this: how do you gift-wrap a pitcher, four glasses, dishtowels and a serving tray in a way that is neither cumbersome nor ugly (hello), that won't keep the recipient occupied for a decade unwrapping stuff in order to figure out just what in the hell you're giving her?

And so I sought intervention from Michael's. I found an oval box in the boxes-to-decoupage section, and with a little kraft brown wrapping paper, scissors and PVA, I lifted that box from a humble ready-to-decoupage box, to THIS:

A decoupaged box.

The four glasses fit inside *perfectly* (woohoo!), and after stuffing it with yellow tissue paper, I put the lid on and was ready to add some pizazz with ribbon and raffia.

Eh. It needs some OOMPH, I thought. A lemon perhaps (real, of course)? With a bit of mint? Attached with floral wire to the raffia?

Mmmm. Delectable.

Tout de même, there was still the stupid pitcher, towels and tray. Or at least the pitcher and towels, because I figured the tray could just function as a tray and be used as a device to both contain and carry whatever clever solution I came up with.

I tried stuffing the pitcher with yellow tissue paper and draping the towel over the edge of the tray, in a casual sort of way.

No, no, no. Martha would definitely NOT do THAT.

And then I remembered the Blue Wind Gourmet, a local restaurant that serves the most delicious chicken tortilla soup -- AND sends your carry-out with you in plain brown, but sturdy, paper bags, which I save because they make perfect gift bags. So smart. So, so smart. :)

The pitcher fit in the bag perfectly. Regrettably, I did not take a picture of the pitcher before I wrapped it all up, but here's what I did: I placed two lemons inside the pitcher, along with a sprig or two of mint, then placed the lemon-filled pitcher in the yellow-tissue-lined bag. I added some extra yellow tissue on top and VOILA! A gift-wrapping job to arouse ample curiosity, speculation and admiration.

I think Martha would be pleased.

May the Phone be with you

My husband has an uncanny knack for getting almost anything he wants over the phone. Lower interest rates, eliminated fees, free product upgrades, free shipping upgrades, lower rates on hotel rooms -- you name it and chances are very good he'll get what he asks for. Maybe sometimes he'll come away with something a little bit less, but he almost always, *always* gets something -- never losing, always gaining. It's really quite amazing.

The only feasible explanation is that he belongs to a secret order of the Phone Jedi. And there is a special school to teach the way of the Phone Jedi to only those few who are chosen at birth. And they are assigned a mentor, like the great and powerful Obi-Wan Verizon. (The truly advanced can even extend their powers to face-to-face interactions. Shock. Awe.)

They learn to perform their fancy Jedi mind tricks on unsuspecting customer service people, and who knows who else? I mean, we did spend a lot of time on the phone while attending our respective universities before we got engaged/married...

I like to think that I'm one of those people who are able to resist the Jedi mind trick -- thanks to their incredibly keen minds *wink* -- and when he goes waving his hand in front of the receiver while saying, "I need to go to Lowe's," I simply reply, "Ha ha, silly Phone Jedi. Your mind tricks do not work on ME."

My shortfalling as a woman

Why is it that -- no matter how hard I try, no matter how careful and diligent I am -- I cannot get 10-day nail polish to last even 10 minutes?