Favorite words

One of the options on a press-one-for-X menu I called today included hearing a radio personality say her favorite words. 

So I did! And she did. Among them: splendid and hilarious. 

Pool

I participate in an annual pool with a group of friends, acquaintances and strangers. And today I learned I'm tied for first! It goes until the end of the year, so there's plenty of time for others to pass me. But for now, it was nice.

And I have several friends who are interested in the standings, so it gave me an excuse to reach out and check in.

P.S.

The butter carving was just as amazing as I hoped it would be.

Virtual bookshelves

I just watched an author talk on Zoom with Curtis Sittenfeld and Roxane Gay (both of whom I adore). And like Curtis, I am in love with Roxane Gay's full-wall, wraparound, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves.

So I was so excited when they started to talk about them! And then wonderfully amused when Roxane admitted that they were a virtual background... of another room in her house. With a window photoshopped in.

How amazing is that?

Also, she's building a Little Free Library in her front yard to put the galleys of all the books she's sent, and if I didn't want to be neighbors before, I definitely do, now.

On this day

Four years ago this morning, I called in sick, hopped a plane, and flew to Cleveland to go to a parade.

The Cavs had won the National Championship earlier in the week, the first time a Cleveland team had won since the Indians took the World Series in 1948. The rest of my family was downtown to celebrate that night -- my brother had driven in from D.C. -- and I felt left out. So I bought a plane ticket.

Getting on that plane -- with hundreds of other people who were doing the same thing I was -- was one of the happiest moments I can remember. I'm not exaggerating when I tell you the joy and excitement were palpable. People cut short vacations to be there. They canceled obligations. We just all wanted to share the experience.

It turns out that parades are kind of a mess. Or maybe it had just been so long since we'd had one? There were more than 1 million people (can you imagine that now?) cramming ever closer to see the local stars and dignitaries. People pressed so close they clogged the parade route. It was slow and hot and really kind of ridiculous.

But it was so much fun.

I was back in time to go to work the next morning, no one the wiser. And I can't begin to tell you what a wonderful choice it was. I felt so connected to everyone else on that plane, in the street. It was just straight-up joy, the likes of which I hadn't seen before and haven't seen since.

If the Browns or Indians manage the same feat, I'm sure it'll be just as crazy. But there's something about that first victory in my lifetime -- in the lifetime of so many! -- that will stand out forever.

Jeopardy!

How neat to see a kid I went to high school with on Jeopardy! today. And after a bit of a rough start, he ended up doing quite well. I felt like I could have succeeded, by proxy. (Even though I would not have, not at all.) A nice diversion on a Thursday night.

Friends forever

Haaaaave I mentioned I'm watching Project Runway? (Yes, yes I have.)

It's a nice distraction in the midst of ::gestures wildly:: But I guffawed recently when one of the designers -- who I happen to like quite a bit -- walked into the workroom humming a song from Saved by the Bell.

It's catchy, isn't it? You can't go wrong with Zack Attack.

(Also -- if you're looking for a wonderful novel depiction of the rockumentary, I can't say enough good things about Daisy Jones & The Six. Super refreshing read.)

The group text

My family's group text is making me laugh out loud tonight. My parents sent a Jeopardy! question that my siblings all got right, then they pivoted to ask us what wrong answer the contestants gave instead. It became a rollicking conversation about what constitutes a Midwestern city and whether James A. Garfield has anything of note named for him. (Is it a cat? I think it's a cat.)

Spellbound

I've been to the Scripps National Spelling Bee eight times, and I somehow had not seen the documentary Spellbound until tonight.

If you, too, haven't seen it, it's available on Tubi for free and documents the path of eight students to the 1999 Bee. It's, uh, more casually racist in the beginning than I would have expected. But then it's a delight. And knowing that I'm not going to the Bee next month (like many other things, it's not happening as originally scheduled, if at all) it was really spectacular to see it in action 21 years ago. The film cameras! The hair! The clothing choices!

There were a few things in particular that delighted me, having been a part of the program for the better part of a decade:

• The calming tones of Mary Brooks, the head judge, and glimpses of other judges.
• Dr. Bailly, then the associate pronouncer and now the head pronouncer, asking "What's a Corolla?" in response to a speller's question. (This is totally in character.)
• The eventual 2000 winner, George Thampy, as an 11-year-old who went by "Georgie." He's also a judge now.
• Seeing the childhood bedroom and rivals of Nupur Lala, the winner, who I became friendly with after meeting her as an adult.
• The amazing, incredible, brilliant kids trying so hard and with such verve.
• The words! Zwieback was in an alphabet book I made in fourth grade; I swear I heard xeropthalmia (which also has a fourth grade reference for me); and of course kookaburra, he of the old gum tree.

(Dr. Bailly more recently, gettin' jiggy with it.)

This was not my favorite day of the quarantine, so those smiles were more appreciated than they would even have been on other days.

I've also been listening to Fountains of Wayne after learning that Adam Schlesinger died today. You probably know Stacy's Mom, but there's so much more that he did -- including writing That Thing You Do! and many of the songs from Crazy Ex-Girlfriend. It's a loss and I'm bummed about it, but glad that I'm able to listen to his music and that a little bit of him can live on.

Runway

I've been watching episode after episode of Project Runway, which is an excellent distraction from, you know, the world.

Tonight I finished season nine (and no, I did not start from the beginning). But I paused it midway through the finale to Google the woman who eventually became the winner, Anya Ayoung-Chee, because of an off-hand comment one of her brothers made during the family-visit-check-in.

He mentioned that people used to tell him how beautiful his sister is, but now they comment on her talent, too. I thought it was strange. She is pretty. But would people really stop you to tell you that your sister is gorgeous, they same way they would if she was a talented designer on a TV show?

Turns out the answer is probably yes if your sister is Miss Trinidad and Tobago and a contestant in the Miss Universe pageant. So.

It made the earlier comments from some of the (jealous) designers make more sense, too. But I was super impressed by her and amused to know more about her background. Plus, it looks like she's still designing clothes! The season eight winner is now a consultant. Bleh.

Cassata cake

I thought it would be a good time to clean out my freezer, and what did I find in the back of it but two Tupperware containers filled with cassata cake -- a Cleveland specialty that features fresh strawberries and whipped cream.

(This is my sister's homemade version.)

They've been there for years, so I pulled them out to make room for something more practical.

I left them on the counter, assuming they were freezer burned. But as they defrosted, they looked.... fine. Good. Like they were edible.

And then they were.

If I knew that, I might have left them in there for when things get more dire. But they're defrosted. So I ate a piece (it was delicious), and stuck the rest in the refrigerator. They'll lift my spirits over the next few days. And now I've got room for another loaf of bread in the freezer. You know, the necessities.

It's a good day

When I get an email that begins "Dear Depraved Sickos."

(But no, for real. I laughed out loud.)

Keys

Do you see this?

This is a tiny piece of paradise.

I spent the early part of the week in the Florida Keys on the invitation of a friend who I love to pieces, and hadn't seen in too many years. Being there made me smile, of course -- I mean, that was the back porch. Look. It's gorgeous. -- but it was the invitation that made me happiest. It's so nice to know that connections are kept, through distance and time.

We swam, and swam, and swam. We talked. We explored. We ate delicious things. And, I like to think, we refueled a friendship that I hope will last a long, long time.

Also, she shared this with me.

That's a book recommendation by Judy Blume. Who owns the bookstore. That we were standing in. (I've read the book and loved it. Judy and I are essentially BFFs now.)

We missed seeing her there, but being in her space was pretty awesome, too.

Stay (I Missed You)

I have fond memories of a concert in college where Lisa Loeb played with Dweezil Zappa, and I'm pretty sure I can still sing all the words to Stay (I Missed You). Today, I saw that Lisa Loeb is coming back to town, so I sent an e-mail to one of the friends I went to the show with to see if she might want to recreate our evening.

She replied enthusiastically, which is awesome. Even more awesome? The second person I emailed -- who was at the concert with us (even though I didn't remember that she was there) emailed another friend, who now lives in Texas. I haven't seen this friend in nearly three years -- since her wedding -- but she's going to fly in for a visit and the show. And I'm thrilled to get to spend some time with her, and with this group of people.

Lisa Loeb: bringing friends together.

Maybe?

This morning, the so-called song of summer (maybe) came on the radio on my way into work. Unless you've been under a rock, you've heard Call Me Maybe pretty much everywhere.

I'm not ashamed to admit that I kind of love this song. But the real reason I love it is this dramatic reading of the song, which I must have listened to at least a half-dozen times.

It still makes me grin so big.

Also! This exists! I haven't listened yet, but I'm way excited about the mix.

Poetry

So, I know the newest U.S. Poet Laureate.

And that's kind of cool.

Also, I'm nerdily excited to tell you that I'm now the proud owner of a library card to the Library of Congress (which is where said poet laureate will set up shop come January). In case you were wondering, despite requiring a photo and a signature, it is not an official government ID.

F-A-N-T-A-S-T-I-C

As those of you who know me know, I'm a gigantic fan of spelling bees. Gigantic. Like, I host a spelling bee viewing party every year. They are so much fun. (Don't believe me? Watch this, one of my favorite-ever spelling bee moments.)

So when my sister texted me to ask if I had any questions for the director of the Scripps National Spelling Bee, I said yes. (Actually, I said, "OMG probably," but is now really the time to split hairs?)

Moments later, my phone rang. Soon, I was on speaker phone, talking to Paige Kimble.

The first thing I asked her? Her favorite word, of course. And if she could spell it.

For the record, it's Ouaniche, and she can. It's a kind of salmon. She always wanted to get it in a spelling bee, but never did.

We talked a little bit longer about why the bee's on ESPN instead of ABC (I shouldn't hold out hope of it going back on network TV), what she likes about the bee (keeping an old-fashioned skill and experience relevant to the modern world) and how the bee is becoming more popular internationally, and at viewing parties like mine. Before I let her go, she asked me what organization I was with, telling me I sounded very professional. (As a question-asker, I should hope so -- that's what I get paid to do!)

And then I squeed a little to my sister, who pretty much knew this would make my day.

Thanks, darling. And thanks, Paige, for keeping spelling bees alive.

Of hashtags

Last year (Was it last year? It was not -- it was Dec. 2009!), we brought you the fantastic hashtag #washingtonpostcorrections. Today, I share another: #JerryMealsSaysItsSafe. (You should click that link, if you click no other links in this post.)

Jerry Meals is a Major League Baseball umpire. In the 19th inning of a Braves/Pirates game Tuesday night (that actually ended Wednesday morning at 1:50 a.m.), he made a widely debated call at home plate, saying that a runner who was tagged out was actually safe. That meant that the Braves won the game, and it knocked the Pirates -- who were in first place in their division (and for the Pirates, this is a feat!) -- back out of the lead.

I hope I didn't lose you with that background. Now, angry Pirates fans (and others with a sense of humor) are making lists of other things (Well, OK, click this one, too.) that Meals says are safe, that are as far as far can be from safe.

Some examples:

• WhyteDynamite: Think I may go for a ride in a zepplin this wknd. I've always wanted to look down at Earth and smoke cigarettes. #jerrymealssaysitssafe
• DBergz13: jumping out of an airplane without a parachute cuz #JerryMealssaysitssafe
• uncleyucki: Playing Russian roulette with a fully loaded gun. #jerrymealssaysitssafe
• hamsandcastle: An island full of dinosaurs in captivity? Count me in! #jerrymealssaysitssafe
• jesslag: Gonna cross these mountains with my new friends the Donners #jerrymealssaysitssafe

There are more about Casey Anthony as a babysitter, Amy Winehouse's drug ingestion, playing in traffic and condom use -- among other wonderfully inappropriate things.

Read. Giggle. Enjoy.

How 'bout that?

I drove home super-psyched after bowling with a friend tonight because not only did I break 100 in all three games -- 112, 116, 102 -- but I bowled a turkey, a definite first. But then, 116 is also my high score.

So there I was, thrilled with my bowling victories, about to pull into the driveway, when I was blinded by a bright light right on the curb. We're talking bright lights. Like, the kind they use to make it look like daylight during road construction. And there was another one on the neighbor's lawn, and what looked like a giant projection screen, too.

I decided to go explore.

It turns out that my neighbor works for an ad agency and that the lights (and plastic forks stuck in the lawn) were part of a campaign they're filming for Hot Pockets. It has something to do with senior citizens who are mad that people are eating without utensils and stick forks in the lawn (Oh, the beauty of Google) to protest. If you see it (I think they said it's for the Web, not TV), you should watch. And send me a link, so I can see how it came out.

I talked to one of the senior citizen (his words) actors, who's a civil engineer by day and has done seven commercials and roles as extras, this year, by night. It's a little random for a Wednesday night, but certainly cool.

Although I'm still proud of my turkey.

Pushing Daisies is gone

But its influence lives on! (Thanks, Resa).

And the last few episodes will exist again. As long as Kristin Chenoweth is somewhere, I am happy.

Whenever I call or text Bek, Kristin Chenoweth says "Bosom, bosom, bosom. I just can't help myself; I'm a bosomaholic."

And that's just funny.

(There's a bosom story that makes it all make more sense, but suffice to say that bosom is an amusing word that isn't used with nearly enough frequency.)