Witty Women, Martha Monday, and Some Other Random/Tangential Stuff

WITTY WOMEN

Before I get into this week's Martha Monday, I want to make sure everyone has the details about the upcoming Witty Women event:

Wednesday, October 23rd

7:00 PM (there's limited seating, so the event's first come, first serve)

The Book Cellar

4736 N. Lincoln Ave

Chicago, IL

This marks the seventh year Stacey Ballis, Amy Guth, Claire Zulkey, and I have gathered to read, discuss, and most importantly, make each other laugh in Chicago's best indie bookstore!  (And because it can't be said enough, the Book Cellar serves wine.)  We'd be thrilled for you to join us as this event is hands-down everyone's favorite of the year. 

Find more details here!   Hope to see you there!

MARTHA MONDAY

In terms of Martha Monday... I chalk painted some pumpkins and glittered others.  Then I gave myself The Smartest Person Alive Award for having the foresight to make this mess outdoors.  (Despite a million vacuum passes, my kitchen rug is still rather sparkly from last year.)

#WINNING!

I was able to hose everything down for clean-up in a matter of minutes.  And now the cement around the pool area is iridescent at night, so that's an added bonus.

However, I didn't actually finish decorating all the pumpkins.  The day after I began to paint/glitter I found out that I had a book synopsis due today.  Thus, I had a major priority shift, leaving me with a dozen unadorned pumpkins and gourds. 

Also?  Forfeited my Smartest Person Alive Award by not being aware of my own damn deadlines.

Here's a quick aside on why I might still be eligible for The Most Arrogant Asshole Alive award, though -  I was just reading my blog feed and I came across a sponsored post.  I was all, "Yeah, I write sponsored posts; they're called books."

Congratulations to me on my Assie!

Anyway, here's a partially decorated mantel:

So... that's it then? 

Yes, except to say that between this project and crowing about the stupid autumnal lattes at Starbucks, I've officially used up my allowance of saying the word "pumpkin" for the year.

Related note?  My friend Gina sent me this link, saying it somehow reminded her of me.  (Still dying over In Cider.)

As this is kind of a lame Martha Monday, I'd like to offer you a bonus piece of advice as well as another seriously tangential story.

RANDOM AND TANGENTIAL

I bought Fletch a Cuisinart 5-in-1 grill for his birthday, which apparently is the greatest present anyone's ever given in the history of presents.  Fletch keeps saying that I didn't give him a panini press so much as I've given him the gift of 1,000 sandwiches.  This may be the happiest I've ever seen him, which is sad for a variety of reasons. 

Speaking of Fletch and tangential stories, he and I have spent the last week grousing about how Breaking Bad has ruined other television shows for us.  (Yes, I'm tired of hearing us talk about this program, so I imagine you must be doubly weary.  For that I apologize.) 

I think for those of us so late to the BB party, mainstreaming back to network TV is more difficult.  You guys who were there from the beginning had all the awesome spread out over five years.  When the magic is too concentrated, it really highlights how lame all the other new shows are.

We've been trying to find something we like, so we watched the pilot for The Blacklist earlier this week, which would probably be fine on its own if for no reason other than my ex-boyfriend James Spader.  (Steff!  Bring your hotness back!!)  But after three solid weeks/sixty-two hours of binge-viewing the finest program ever written, acted, directed, and produced?  No.

We weren't fans of the first Blacklist episode.  But, it seems like everyone else I know digs it, so we gave it another shot last night and I'll admit I'm warming to the show.  When the credits rolled, we had this conversation:

Me:  So... that was better, right?

Fletch:  Oh, yeah!

Me:  Really?  You're awfully enthusiastic for a guy I saw rolling his eyes the whole time.

Fletch:  Well, it was better in that the second bite of a shit sandwich is better than the first.  The first bite is awful, horrible, the worst thing you ever tasted in your life.  But once you had that initial shock, the second bite is marginally less terrible.

WHAT'S YOUR POINT OF THIS POST AGAIN?

So... maybe my point is that this right here is why I don't have sponsored posts.  No one wants to pay me to promote their fantastic panini-press followed immediately by the imagery of a shit sandwich, even if it is just figural.

Anyway, for the next Martha Monday, I'll feature homemade apple pie (with bonus apples grown in my yard for extra smugness) and handmade ice cream! 

See you then!