The Five Minute Post: Free Tans

If I had five minutes left of my break at work to write something profound, I might contemplate on the wonders of the touch lamp, or the nature of Scotch tape on a roll, or the vast possibilities of my rear filling the volume of this rolling chair.

What is more important? What I'm thinking or what I'm doing?
I'll settle with what we as a collective couple are doing. An update:

We have printed approx. 1000 4x6 photos, a new project.
Our snowshoeing trip has been postponed until . . . some other convenient time.
Uhh. I have a new bass student! I'm on the market for teaching again.
Sam is doing the Omniture Web Analytics competition.
There are rumors of Iron and Wine and Rio flooding into my e-mail, and I don't know what that means--but I would love to get a tan. I shall succumb to this wild machine:


Speaking of which, guess what I won from the Apollo Burger drawing over Christmas? Two free tans! The guy who gave them to me said, "You . . . don't go tanning often, do you." No, I don't, because I'm half-black and don't you wish you were too.

Alas, in these winter months, a tan sounds very, very nice, and I think I'll go try it sometime this week. Cancer for you, cancer for me, cancer for all in the white, white sea!

P.S. Never google image the word "cancer." It's terrible. It's just so terrible.

Five Minutes of Fabrizio Fame

Oh, the shame of regressing to my unwarranted, girlish high school behavior. Alas, I am ashamed. But I have to say, my brief digital conversation with Doug Fabrizio was pretty exciting.

Me: Dear Mr. Fabrizio, I just wanted to let you know, I am such a huge fan! Phenomenal. Just amazing. That's you. NPR and Radio West get me through the work day. Thank you!

Fabrizio: Liz you made my day - no kidding. I'm going to hang on to this one for awhile if that's ok with you. Cheers, Doug

Me: That's definitely okay with me. After all, you are on the top of my list of celebrity crushes. So far my husband doesn't seem to mind. Great program today, Liz Lambson

Fabrizio: Thanks (he said blushing).

Wow. I made him blush. Was I just flirting with a radio personality? As a married woman??? Oh, for shame. And then I put it on the blog.

Mr. Fabrizio, I'm a Big Fan

I just sent fan mail to Doug Fabrizio on NPR Radio West. Ahhh!
Will he respond? What will he say?
This could be another celebrity crush to add to my list (Jim from The Office, Jude Law, and so forth). I talked with Sam about it. Celebrity crushes are okay by him. After all, I know he thinks Gwyneth Paltrow is a babe. But then again, who doesn't?

Go ahead, throw away my Christmas cheer.

On Sunday, on the way up to Highland for some sabbath-day-chicken-croissant-and-broccoli dinner, I was telling Sam a touching Christmas story from my youth.

One day, I left my Christmas presents out on the kitchen table, and my dad told me to put them away. I acknowledged his command, but the next day, my Christmas presents were still on the kitchen table.

The next day, they were probably still on the kitchen table. I don't really remember because in high school, time doesn't exist. Only feelings.

That day or the next day, or maybe the next day, I walked into the kitchen and found that my Christmas presents were gone. Where could they be, I wondered. I looked high. I looked low. And lo and behold . . .

. . . they were in the trash.

Beneath food scraps and torn up receipts and moldy Christmas cheer, there they were. Bursting into tears, I collapsed on the floor and started digging through the garbage for the few Christmas presents my friends from school had given me, including a little angel-shaped lollipop and perhaps some Digimon gel pens. Was that the year?

Yes. My father had thrown away my Christmas cheer.

------------

As I finished up this story, Sam and I pulled into his parents driveway.
And the first thing we beheld?

My VERY large poinsettia, which I had taken to their house for Christmas, hung its wilted and sickly head over the rim of the dumpster outside.

So our dads have something in common. Either I haven't learned not to leave my things lying around, or fathers have an especial knack for throwing out Christmas cheer.

Engaged Narcissists

After tacking many an engagement photo upon my frigidaire, I would guess that approximately 50% of couples look like siblings with matching hair color, facial features, noses, etc. Here are some examples of total strangers:
I think the second couple is an especially excellent example--look at those noses.

My theory kind of boils down to this: I think it's a reflection of this natural element of narcissism in each of us, that we're attracted to the features we find beautiful in ourselves. Or, we empathize with those who have the unusual features we are so used to whenever we look in the mirror: that curly hair, the long nose, the smile lines. I mean, come on, we're practically twins.

Happy New Hair, Everone

Happy New Year! And for some . . . Happy New Hair.

Creepy Old Sam

Creepy New Sam

"I wanted the mullet, but I think keeping the mustache had the same effect I was going for," says New Sam. Huzza huzza. Yes, Liz did this. Notice the cowlick--hot.