HouseFrau

The Love You Take...

Here are a few of Jane's current obsessions: 

• Death -- Jane basically thinks that everybody dies of a heart attack when they get really old.  I've done nothing to dissuade her from this belief because I really do wish it were so.
• Who Is Older than Who -- Jane  is very upset that some of her classmates and friends are turning four, while she is still three-and-three-quarters.  She wants to be older.  Everyday she tells us that she wishes she were four.  The other day, she said she wished she were one hundred years old.  She takes solace in the fact that she is older than Frank.  She reminds me that she is older than Frank at least once a day.
• The Beatles' Abbey Road-- Last week, Steve brought the Abbey Road CD into the car.  I guess he'd hit his limit on Sesame Street's Platinum Hits II (though such limit has not been hit by Frank who cries when I try to switch the CD off and listen to Indie 103).  Jane became fascinated with the CD cover and began grilling me.  "Who's the one wearing blue in the back?" (George) "Who's the one walking with no shoes?" (Paul) "Who's the one in a black suit in front of him?" (Ringo) "Who's the one wearing white in front?" (John).  "Who's the youngest?" (George) "Who's the oldest?" (John)  "Who's singing Octopus' Garden?" (Ringo, but please don't think he contributed much else vocally.)

This morning, these obsessions generated the following exchange:

Jane: "Mom, you know who has been dead for a really long time?" 

Mom: "Who?"

Jane: (Pause) "Are the Beatles still alive or dead?"

Mom: "Ringo and Paul are alive."

Jane: "So John and George are dead?"

Mom: "Yes."

Jane: "But George is the youngest!"

Mom: (Awkward laugh)

Jane: "Is the one with bare feet still alive?"

Mom: "Paul. Yes, he's still alive."

Jane seemed to feel much better after that.

Have Faith... in TV

At least for this housefrau, this week is all about one thing-- the network television premiere of ELI STONE.  I think I've mentioned this once or twice, but Eli Stone begins airing this Thursday at 10PM on ABC after "Lost."

Entertainment Weekly was the latest to give Eli a big thumbs up.

 

Project Runway: Even Designers Get the Blues

Tonight, I love Project Runway.  I was so unexcited to watch tonight's episode.  But the judges' session was the best of the season.  And the result!! Ricky wins?!  And a fembot loses?! It doesn't get any better.

The episode did not begin with any great promise.  I did enjoy how Victorya kept calling Sweet P "Kit."  Sorry, you're the other female designer who uses a "nom de plume" and is in over her head.   

I did enjoy the challenge because I love Levi's.  Sweet P said this would be a hard challenge for her because she "hadn't worked with denim in a long time."  Presumably the last time was when she put on a jean jacket to ride with her female biker gang back in '68.  But Sweet P has managed to stay young at heart by marrying a 70-year old man. Named Sage.

I had just about given up on Tim Gunn.  Most of the time, he has seemed more bored than I am.  I could almost imagine the show without him.  But tonight's interaction with Sweet P. was great.  He was truly horrified by her denim wedding dress. The force with which he told her to "resolve the skirt" was impressive.  And he definitely tried to say "Make It Work" with a little more oomph.  Maybe he's checking back in as we get toward the finals.   

I've tried not to hate Christian.  He's so young. And it can't have been easy growing up him.  But he makes it so hard.  First, we see him fighting with Chris March. (Chris M. is no doubt annoyed about the fact that Christian won last week's challenge based on a dress that was clearly Chris M's vision.)  Then we see Christian griping about the nature of the challenge.  He claims he did "deconstruction" in elementary school.  He must have gone to a magnet because at my elementary school we were learning long division and cursive.  Then we see him railing against Ricky-- if he is so untalented and unthreatening, why are you spending time talking about him?  The thing that really pushed me over the edge with Christian was when, at the beginning of the episode, he sent a model home with the phrase "Thank you more than life."  This guy thinks of himself as the least phony person in the world and acts as if he can not tolerate an ounce of bullsh-t.  Then he tells a model who he worked with one week-- then sent home-- that he "thanks her more than life." Because life would not be worth living without that model who I met last week and will never see again.

The episode got great when Fembot Jillian had a breakdown.  "I keep cutting myself!"  She moaned as she collapsed on her sewing machine.  Based on her tears, I expected to see blood spurting. Then I saw Rami laugh awkwardly and I knew that Jilllian was dealing with wounds of the psychic variety, not the sewing variety.  Her desperation showed through when she tried to play sassy with her model.  "Don't expect me to be ready on time, but it takes me to the top every time." Fast forward to Jillian sweating bullets in the bottom two.

Let's face it-- the editing in this show is so manipulative.  But sometimes it works brilliantly.  Tonight, I lapped up the Triumph of Ricky.  His dress was awesome.  His tearful bonding with Michael Kors over the insecurities of the fashion business felt totally real.  Christian's indignant wrath of Ricky's victory was priceless.  Maybe Ricky's win will turn him around and he'll make it to the finals.  Unlikely. But he's had his moment. It was magnificent.  And I'll definitely go on bluefly.com to check out his dress. 

I am glad Victorya got the boot.  Her dress was lazy. She clearly thought she was untouchable. It seems fitting that Ricky won on the night she got kicked off, given that she started his self-confidence spiral when they were paired together early in this season. Victorya will probably end up as a magazine fashion editor at a magazine where she'll take pleasure in making her assistant feel like crap. 

As for me, I feel good. Thanks, Runway.   

Just Say No

Please, I implore you, do not join Facebook.  Let me clarify: if you want to have a life apart from your computer, do not join Facebook.  I joined Facebook about two weeks ago.  For a period of time, it took over my life.

Let me back up.  I have been put in charge of planning my 20-year high school reunion.  (Don't ask me how I got so lucky.)  To that end, I've been trying to track down contact information for old classmates.  Someone in my high school alumnae office suggested that I try Facebook.  I had had a few friends tell me they were using Facebook, but I still considered Facebook to be something used mainly by high school and college kids.  I didn't think there was much a late-30s housefrau could get out of it.

I joined Facebook, found a few old classmates and sent them messages about reunion.  (I have yet to hear back from any of them, by the way.)  A few hours later, I got an invitation to be a "friend" with an old neighbor who now lives in Nashville.  I "confirmed" our friendship and went on her Facebook page.  She had a lot going on-- pictures, posted messages from friends, restaurant reviews, books she was reading.  She had a lot of friends and was a member of various "groups."

I searched for more friends, and found several.  I sent out a few friend requests and got a few "confirms." Then I began to pore through my friends' pages and find other friends.  Then I began to find acquaintances.  Then I began to find people who I remain inexplicably curious about though I haven't spoken to them in years. 

People's Facebook pages are fascinating.  A lot of people include information regarding their "status" so you know what they're up to.  For example, last week, I knew that a friend was making meatballs and another felt cautiously optimistic about the writers strike ending.  Some of my friends have hundreds of other friends (one friend - much younger - has over 800 friends).  Others (like me) have only 30 or so.  Some friends play poker with other Facebook friends.  Some play TV trivia.  Some are members of the Stephen Sondheim fan group. 

Surfing Facebook, and attending to my own Facebook profile, began to take up all of my time. I could not pull myself away from Facebook.  It was completely addictive.  And unhealthy.  I began to neglect my housefrau duties.  ("Frank, go play with your trains, Mommy's updating her visual bookshelf.")

I thought about quitting cold turkey. Instead, I made a conscious effort to reduce my Facebook time.  I'm happy to report that after two weeks of feverish Facebooking, my obsession has waned a bit.  Now, I'm checking Facebook about five times a day instead of fifty.   Sure, I'm playing Scrabulous (Facebook's version of Scrabble).  And I've created an Eli Stone fan group.  But relatively speaking, I think I now have a healthy relationship with Facebook. 

Now, if you'll excuse me, I better go change my Facebook status -- from "writing Housefrau post" to "surfing Facebook." 

Let the Raves Begin!

Not for American Idol.  I watched the Philly auditions and was almost as bored as Randy, Simon and Paula appeared to be.  I haven't brought myself to watch Dallas and I'm not sure I will.  Despite Simon's botox, American Idol seems old.

The audition episode formula is so tired: Show bad singer, freak singer, insert rude Simon remark, show great gorgeous singer with touching family story. If Idol wants to engage me this year, it's going to have to produce some really talented finalists-- like a Daughtry or an Elliot Yamin-- who can transcend the tired formula of the show and make Idol exciting again.

No. The raves I'm talking about are for Eli Stone.  Have I mentioned that it begins airing on January 31 at 10PM on ABC, after a little show called Lost? I have? Well, let me just mention it again. And again. And again.

 

Project Runway: On Garde

I knew when I saw the bad pun in the episode title that tonight's "Project Runway" would disappoint.  The only thing that tonight's episode did for me was finally convince me that Ricky has to go.  (He lived to see another day only because Kit was his team leader.)  Despite its best efforts, however, tonight's episode did not convince me to like Sweet P. 

The challenge presented a sharp contrast to the prom dress challenge:  Design an avant garde outfit based on a model's crazy hairstyle.  I could not relate to this challenge and I didn't care.  Halfway through, Tim dropped a "bombshell": the designers would also have to do a ready-to-wear outfit. Shock! Horror! Yawn.

The designers had to work in pairs.  Victorya looked predictably glum about this.  But the "random pairings" turned out to be perfect:  the two drama queens, Christian and Chris; the two robot women Victorya and Jillian; the two people who we-know-almost-nothing-about-and-probably-have-no-business-being-here Ricky and Kit; and Rami and Sweet P. 

From the outset, Rami appears annoyed with Sweet P.  And from the outset, we are made to feel that Rami's frustration with Sweet P is unfounded and unfair.  Sweet P is easy-going with great ideas. Rami is not open to any suggestions and overanxious about their timing.  He even makes Sweet P cry! And a model has to hug her! 

Sorry, I'm not buying it.  In past episodes, Rami has seemed pretty level-headed and calm.  He has worked well in other teams.  (Unlike Sweet P who eagerly threw Elisa under threw under the bus.)  I ate dinner near Rami, and he was with his mom.  So I like him.  I admit that Rami's avant garde dress looked exactly like every other outfit he's done, except with pants underneath.  Ever since Rami did the drape dress in Episode One, I had thought he might be too one-note.  That said, I don't think the dress would have been helped by having fabric coming out of the model's rear, as suggested by Sweet P. (Didn't someone else have that idea, which Heidi dismissed as looking like the model was "pooping" fabric?)  Sweet P's ready-to-wear dress was OK.  But there's clearly some conspiracy to make Sweet P a fan favorite.  It's not working with me. Then again, I'm not even that much of a fan these days. 

The fembot team almost short circuited due to time pressures, but they pulled it out in the end.  Jillian seems like an extra from a party scene in "Stardust Memories."  She reminds me of that character Gilda Radner used to play -- the one that wore huge sunglasses and sang the song "Goodbye Saccharine."  If Jillian makes it to the finals, there is no way I will be able to stay awake.

Chris-x-2 kicked tail.  Ricky and Kit on the other hand... I'm sure I wasn't the only person who pictured Carol Burnett and the curtain rod when the judges referenced Scarlett O'Hara for their avant garde dress.  As much as I'd like to blame Kit for their poor showing, I felt like the dresses looked Very Ricky.  Nevertheless, Kit was the team leader and she got the boot.

Kit's exit was the only thing that ever surprised me about her.  Kit said that she was leaving with "two suitcases of friendship and success."  Who knew that underneath her edgy exterior, Kit was really Shirley Temple setting sail on the Good Ship Lollipop. 

More Q's. Less A's.

Thought I would note a few additional questions that came from Jane this past weekend.  All of these questions fall under the category of I-think-I-know-the-answer-but-don't-want-to-begin-to-try-to-explain-it category:

FRIDAY. Jane is very intrigued by LA's Koreatown and Thai Town (probably because the signs use different alphabets and look cool).  On Friday afternoon, as we drove home from the Boone Children's Gallery at LACMA, Jane recognized that we were in Koreatown.  She then pointed out a mother walking with two young children on the street.  "I see them," I said. "And they look like they are Korean."  "Why?" Jane asked.  I tried to ignore the question.  "Why do you think they look Korean?" Jane asked again.  "Well," I said, "they have dark hair."  "Why else?"  asked Jane, obviously unsatisfied with my answer.  Awkward silence.  Finally, I spoke. "Jane, do you want a piece of gum?" 

SATURDAY.  I mentioned last week that we saw the guitarist from Def Leppard play a children's concert.  When we got back from the concert and I told Steve who we had seen, he had to ask whether the guitarist had one arm or two. (This was obviously a reference to the drummer, Rick Allen, who lost an arm in a car accident 20+ years ago. Bear in mind that Steve grew up a jazz fan.)  Of course, Jane heard the reference to a person with one arm and jumped on it.  A lot of questions followed (how did he just have one arm? did it hurt? did it bleed?), but I thought we had moved past it.  Then Saturday-- almost one week after the discussion-- Jane, Frank and I were driving home from a playground.  Out of nowhere, Jane asked, "Mom, when he lost one arm, did he have to go to the hospital?"  Of course, I knew what she was talking about. "You mean the drummer from the band of the guy we saw last week? Yeah, he probably went to the hospital."  "Why?" Jane asked.  "We're home," I said, pulling up to the curb outside our door.

SUNDAY:  These days, Jane's asking a lot of questions about God and what God created.  For example, she'll ask, "Did God create water?"  "Yes." "Did God create grape juice?"  "Well, God created grapes and then people grow them and make them into juice." Yesterday, as we drove in the car, Jane asked, "Did God create pianos?"  "No," I said, "a really great person created the piano and I'm glad they did."  "They must have had directions," Jane said.

Last evening, as Jane and Frank got ready for their bath, Frank sat on Jane's potty and proudly said, "Poo poo. Pee pee."  Of course, he was wearing a diaper and wasn't really using the potty. But he wants to do everything Jane does so he wanted to act as if he was using the potty.  Even after I got Jane and Frank in the bath, Frank continued to talk about using the potty, repeatedly saying, "Poo poo. Pee pee."  Jane was quiet for a moment, then asked, "Mom, how do you use the potty when you're dead?" "Well," I mumbled. "You don't have to." "Why?"  "Well, because you only have to go pee or poop when you eat or drink stuff."  "Why?" "Well, that's what pee and poop is, it's the food that you don't need anymore."  "Why don't you eat and drink when you're dead? Aren't you hungry?"  "I don't think so. Have you washed your face?"

The Windmills of Her Mind

Jane will be four in March, and she is so much fun these days.  But she is also exhausting.  Last week, she spent the night at her grandma and grandpa's house and Steve and I marveled at how easy it was to just have Frank.  We could actually talk without being interrupted!  Frank could actually play by himself for five minutes at a time!  Frank's bedtime routine takes less than 30 minutes! 

I think Jane's questions are the most exhausting.  Jane is learning so much about the world everyday and she's trying to make sense of it.  I don't know the answers to a lot of her questions.  Yesterday, for example, Jane asked if we needed our brains to talk.  When I said yes, she asked why.  The only thing I know about our brain is that there are lobes and a hypothalamus.  I don't know what they do. (And I don't have time to think about it because I'm too busy doing important things like handicapping Project Runway.)  I told Jane she'd have to ask a brain doctor to get an answer.

Even more difficult are the questions to which I do have answers, but I'd rather not go into it. By now, I realize that almost every answer is going to spark another question.  I always struggle with how much information to give out because I don't know how much an almost four-year old (even one who thinks she's a twenty-four-year old) can handle. 

The other day, I made a note of some of the questions and comments I got from Jane.  Bear in mind that all of these questions were in a single day:

"Why can't you marry your brother?" (Rather than delving into the details of incest law, I told Jane that she should marry someone who she hasn't met yet.  Jane followed up with a question about her classmate who has two moms.)  "Are Debbie and Zoe's other mom married?"

"Mom, are you going to die before me?"  (I casually say that I will.)  "Have you ever known anybody who died?"  (Yes, I tell Jane.  My grandparents.)  "Where did they fall asleep and die?"  (I'm not sure, I said. I think a hospital.)  "A hospital? Why a hospital?" (I quickly changed the subject.)

"Thomas Jefferson must not have liked to clean his house because he had slaves."  (I told Jane that owning slaves was very very bad.  I said that Thomas Jefferson was probably very busy doing government stuff -- maybe even too busy to clean his own house -- but he should never have had slaves.  Jane then announced that she was going to draw a picture of a slave. I told her that she would have to draw a sad person because nobody wants to be a slave.)   "But," Jane asked. "What if the slaves were doing a happy job like selling candy?" (I told Jane that the slaves would still be unhappy because they were not getting paid for their work and everyone should get paid for their work.)  "But," Jane asked.  "What if they were giving away free samples so they weren't getting any money?"  (They should still get paid, I said.)  "Why?"

(Most likely, I offered food and/or TV.)

Project Runway: What a Girl Wants

This was my favorite episode of the season.  I loved the challenge-- making prom dresses for Catholic school girls.  And I loved the contestants describing their own prom experiences (complete with old photos). 

Victorya had her usual look of horror when she learned of the challenge (Ugh. Normal people again).  But she did make a great dress. She also got the girl who looked the most like a typical model.  It seems unfair that the judges don't consider this when the challenges use "normal" models.  All the judges marveled at how great and confident Victorya's model looked on the runway.  But I think this girl probably looks beautiful and confident in long johns.

In contrast, Kit's model looked like she wanted the runway floor to swallow her up (not a reflection on Kit's dress, which was fine). But Kit thought it was apparent that her model loved the dress.  Kit has also told us that she has chosen a pseudonym "like Mark Twain" so I think we know something about her grasp of reality.  Turns out Kit is from Orange County, which explains a lot. (I guess the name "Chrissy McDougal" or whatever her name is doesn't pop on a dress label.)   Kit said she was a prom princess at her prom.  We then saw her tell Christian that he could be prom queen and she would be prom king.  Did Kit come out of the closet? Or was this an Orange County girl's misguided attempt at edginess?   

Christian told us that prom was yucky, then moments later told us he won "Best Dressed" at his prom.  Which, by the way, was 3 or 4 years ago.  He was obviously too close to the challenge and the models.  And fate dealt a cruel blow by giving him the mouthiest model of the bunch.  I actually felt for him tonight.  But I think there was some weird editing going on-- the look of shock on Nina and his client's face makes me think Christian said something a lot worse than we saw.

Finally, we got to see what Chris March was talking about when he referred to his giant wigs and 300 yards of fabric.  We saw several pictures from Chris' portfolio showing him in elaborate costumes such as the Statue of Liberty.  I guess Chris had previously made a living as a Divine impersonator? 

Seeing Sweet P's prom picture brought home just how old she is.  She and her date looked like extras from Dazed & Confused.  I didn't like Sweet P's dress. The fabric was nice, but the dress seemed baggy and too long.  I think the judges had to throw her a bone so we (i.e., me) would stop commenting on how she has no talent.

Ricky is hanging by a thread. I was sure he was gone once we saw him call his mom and cry.  But he lives to see another day. And I am glad because I inexplicably love him.

It seems only fitting that the one straight guy who actually enjoyed his prom got the boot. Kevin said that he was thinking of all the naughty things he did as a New Jersey prom kid, and he wanted to install a chastity belt in his dress.  He apparently succeeded in this effort, as the judges thought Kevin's dress made his model look old, cheap and unattractive.  (By the way, is the girl still going to wear this dress to prom after she (and all of America) hears these comments?)

All in all, a fun episode.  Next week looks similarly promising as we apparently get to watch Right Said Fred get as annoyed with Sweet P as I am.

There's a Storm Abrewin'

And I'm not talking about the winter tornadoes in the Midwest.  (But, there's no definitive proof of global warming, right?)

The storm I'm talking about is occurring right here in this household. And it has to do with American Idol. 

As you may know, I am something of an American Idol nut.  For the past several years, I've considered American Idol to be a critical antidote to the winter blues.  (Yes, I still suffer winter blues even though I live in Los Angeles.)  For the last two years I've run a pool where friends and I try to predict the Top 10 Idol finalists, in order.  Often, I would accompany the pool results with my own commentary on the show.  Indeed, I found I enjoyed drafting those commentaries so much that I started this blog so I could continue to foist my unsolicited commentaries on the superinformation highway.

If he has not shared my level of fanaticism, my husband Steve has always been a serious American Idol fan. This year, however, things have changed.  When the writers strike began in November, Steve announced that if the strike was still going on in January, he would not be watching American Idol.  Why?  The short answer is because Peter Chernin is an a-hole. 

At the beginning of the strike, Peter Chernin, the President of Newscorp, actually told analysts that the writers strike "is probably a positive" for Fox because of American Idol and its animated shows like The Simpsons and Family Guy which are written far in advance of their air dates.  "We would expect if anything that [the strike] would lift our market share and have us win this season by an even greater margin than we expect to.”

So witers and so many other people in film and TV are out of jobs.  The Golden Globes have been cancelled, and studios are refusing to negotiate in the hopes that the Writers Guild will fall apart.  But it's all good because Fox will gain American Idol viewers. 

I can't really blame Steve for the stand he's taking.  Especially since-- let's face it-- Idol ain't what she used to be.  Most of last year's American Idol felt lazy and uninspired.  Can you remember the top 5 contestants? I remember Jordin Sparks and Blake Lewis and I think they are the two worst finalists ever. (And yes, I am including Justin Guarini.)  Even before the strike, I was starting to wonder whether Idol still had the stuff. I don't want the same lame show to break ratings records by default. 

Still, I'm torn.  In the past, American Idol has been such a unifying force -- it's the one thing I have in common with Red Staters (at least it was before Obama).  I have so much fun dishing Idol with fellow watchers.  And the Idol pool, and the attendant email chatter gives me so much pleasure. 

So what's a wife-of-a-striking-writer-who-has-always-loved-American-Idol-but-now-feels-ambivalent to do?

Input and advice are welcome.