Rhetorical questions...

Things I can't wrap my head around today:

How I lived so long without a monster-sized sunroof (it opens over the front AND back seat!) in my car.

Why commercials insist "You're thinking Arby's," when really, you're thinking about the time Arby's gave you food poisoning and you ruined everyone's outing to the drive-in movie.

How a pair of flat shoes can be more uncomfortable than my favorite heels.

Why neither of my dogs have the instinct to catch popcorn out of the air, and instead let it ricochet off their foreheads.

How I'm going to have the time/motivation to finish my super-cleaning project before my mom arrives on Wednesday.

The best way to squirrel away enough money to buy a really fantastic handbag... the kind that goes with everything and lasts forever. The kind that costs around $300. I have several decent ones, but I just need/crave one one fabulous "Investment Bag."

Why I have been in the top five every single year at the Pick 'Em Football Pool against a stable full of sports-loving and sports reporter men -- usually around 35 people -- but so far this year, I'm in 14th place out of only 17 players. Sigh.

Why my neighbor insists on using a riding lawnmower on his small yard -- and does so shirtless, with a stogie dangling from his mouth. It's entertaining, sure, but also ridiculous.

Ah well. Back to dusting the blinds and scrubbing the shower with a toothbrush...

Crystal necklaces and color block dresses make a girl tired

I'm a born shopper. Probably picked it up from my mom, who A) loves shopping and B) has a great sense of style. (Still, at 61, she's one of the best-dressed people I know.)


My mom, looking totally cute. Me, not a good fashion day. 2005.

So it probably seems like fantastic news that I'm now getting paid to shop for work. The fruits of my labors will run weekly in our revamped Scene section, and four times a year in a new glossy magazine we're putting out.

Still, it's tiring as hell! I've been running up and down Bardstown Road and around St. Matthews boutiques since Monday. (We all cover various areas of town...) I've been lugging clothes and shoes and brass lamps and Pokerchip Girl necklaces and ironing boards (don't ask) to and from stores, to my car, to the photo studio and back again. Between that and some scheduled interviews and tons of deadlines, my past five days have been a whirlwind.

Anyhoo, I think it's only proper to share some of the fun things I've stumbled across while out and about. Stuff that may not end up in stories right away, but it's out there and you should know about it.

Highlights from this week:

1. The new, revamped INC department at Macy's. It's huge, and they now appear to carry the whole INC line.

2. Dot Fox has these great items by Pokerchip Girl. The designer makes necklaces, money clips, belt buckles, etc., out of vintage poker chips from the turn of the (20th) century and jazzes them up with a few well-placed Swarovski crystals. They're really fun.

3. General Eccentric just got in a ton of really cute stuff for fall. I can't fit into any of the ridiculously tiny clothes there, of course, but their accessories are funky and inexpensive. They also have a new Louisville location at 2400 Lime Kiln Lane.

4. For that matter, the Cherry Bomb people opened a new store as well. I don't have the address handy, but it's directly across the street from Dot Fox.

5. Red Tree has a lot of really cool, classy home stuff, but they also have these hilarious penny banks for $10. They're shaped like a Band Aid tin and have prudish, 50s-type pictures on them, but say things like, "I'm saving for valium" or "I'm saving for some good weed" or "I'm saving for a new pair of jeans." They'd make a good secret Santa gift.

6. Regalo has some fun tote bags for $12 or $16, I can't remember. Either side of the bag's exterior is an old-school (upside down) cassette tape. The handles are brown, and come out of the top of the bagso its looks like the tape is being yanked out. You have the see them in person, but they were cute and cheap. I might have to get one for my upcoming Philly trip.

7. Moving on to the area of things I can't afford, but really would love to have, I saw this dynamite necklace by a local artist at Clodhoppers. It big and chunky with multiple and different green strands (African glass beads, jade and something else I can't remember). It was $300 bucks, but man, it was beautiful.

8. At the Three Dog Bakery, they sell suede collars ($80) and leashes ($70) that are embedded with giant Swarovski crystals. I actually wouldn't like to have this. The collars actually have a tag on them that say (I'm paraphrasing here), These are not to be used for going for walks or rough-housing. Your pet should sit quietly in the corner at your New Year's party while wearing this work of art.

So, it's an $80 collar and my dog can't even wear it unless she's been tranquilized? I think I'll pass. We're happy with our $8 Feeders Supply collars. See?




Lucy, smiling.


Archie, intense, as usual.

In closing, I will be visiting tons of stores around town every week, so if you're looking for something specific, let me know. I'll keep my eyes peeled.

"The hide their crack in the cupboard, behind the cans."

Last night, I worked a metro shift in the news department. I covered a couple of events, and then spent the rest of the time listening to the police scanner to keep track of Louisville's Sunday-night goings on.

At first, I was sad that I was missing the MTV awards, Rock of Love and the first day of the NFL season. But the scanner can help wile away the time, too. Here are a couple of highlights.




1. "A caller just reported that a guy was road-raging her on Dixie Highway." Road-rage as a verb. I like it.






2. "There's an intoxicated man on the walking trail wearing a red t-shirt and a weird white mask." Great. Michael Myers IS real.



3. "An old man with a ponytail is sitting in an Oldsmobile in the middle of the street. He's swearing at and flipping off anyone who asks him to move."




4. Somewhere on the south end, a mother and son were partaking in wholesome family activity of smoking crack together. "The son is wearing a pair of basketball shorts and no shirt, the mother is wearing jeans and a top with roses on it. The complainant said they store their crack in the kitchen cupboard, behind the canned foods."

Aside from their drug problems, which are not to be ridiculed, this report made me laugh for a couple of reasons. Now, maybe I've watched too many "Cops" episodes, but when I first heard the situation unfolding, I totally pictured the son being shirtless. Second, I love that whoever called the police were hanging out there long enough to note, in detail, their wardrobe and where they stashed the rocks.

Luckily, nothing major happened, which was not only good for me, but good for the public at large.

Nathaniel Arnold Sr. was probably a very interesting man

Maybe I got this from my dearly departed grandpa, Pop-Pop. Or maybe it's because I spent some time writing obituaries when I worked at the newspaper in Spokane. But no matter where I live, I always peruse the obits in each day's paper.

Pop-Pop used to do this, but mostly it was so that he could feel triumphant. He'd scan the page, see a name he recognized, and exclaim, "I outlived another son of a bitch!" Then he'd proceed to offer a brief description of the acquaintance as he swelled with pride that he was still kicking.

So I thought of Pop-Pop today when I saw this name on the obit page: Nathaniel "Hot Sausage" Arnold, Sr., 80. Oh, how I wished I knew how the Sausage got his nickname! At 80, did people still call him that? If so, I think that's pretty awesome. I wonder how many of his friends that Hot Sausage outlived. His obit was quite basic and didn't give much detail about his life, other than that he was an Army veteran and a member of Hill Street Baptist Church. But his obit -- that moniker -- screams from the page, and even though I don't know him, I think that's what he would have wanted.

I hope by the time I'm old, I have a magnificent (perhaps inappropriate) nickname that will accompany my name in the paper and make people wonder: Where the hell did she pick up that name? She must have had a fun life.

Sadly, Pop-Pop's ultimate goal was to outlive Ronald Reagan, who shared PP's Feb. 6 birthday. Pop-Pop abhored Republicans, but especially, for some reason, Reagan. Probably had a lot to do with birthday-sharing.

Anyway, Pop-Pop passed away June 2, 2004. And can you believe it? Reagan died three days later.

Almost, Pop-Pop. Almost.

Sorry, muscles. Better luck next time.

SUMMARY HAIKU:

Dog walks don't do shit
for muscle tone. Back to gym.
Arms and abs on fire.


Here's how Kyle described his pain after using my favorite (and simultaneously least favorite) abdominal machine at the Y for the first time: "I feel like someone just ripped my guts out."

Precisely. This is why I have such a love/hate relationship with the thing.

After about four months of ignoring the gym, I finally made my way back there this week. Once Lucy and Archie arrived on the scene, I was (and am) walking them every day. Briskly. Often twice. But I stopped working out at the Y because it was hard to work it in -- and hey, I was still exercising, right? Eh, not really.

I haven't gained any weight in that time, but my muscle tone and definition started to wither. So I made my first foray back there on Monday and did 45 minutes of cardio. Then I weight trained my arms, legs, abs and back -- all in one day.

What a dumbass.

Of course, I soon felt like I got hit by a truck. Yesterday, I could barely even straighten my legs out because my hamstrings felt as though someone had shortened them by about 8 inches each. Every time I stretched backwards, my abs screamed out like an 8-pound dog when someone rings the doorbell. And let's not even talk about my arms, which I wanted to cut off with a butcher knife but couldn't muster the strength to grip a blade.

Today was better, and I'm going back tomorrow. And at least four days a week from here on out. I hate, hate, hate it. But I've got to do it.

Some people try to motivate with the old cliche, "No pain, no gain." But I think that shit only works on meatheads who enjoy committing to fitness. I'm just doing this to look a little better in my jeans and continue eating at the Shalimar Indian buffet from time to time.