An explanation, please

1. for why my pillow smells like cat butt

2. why, if they're supposed to be so damn afraid, possums always stare me down like they're ready to kick my sorry human ass

3. how it can be that it's already 10:30pm and I haven't gotten anything actually done today

Today's Best 5

1. Making micro-mini vegan cupcakes with N so she can take them to "school" tomorrow for her 2nd birthday.

2. Michael Cera as Paulie Bleeker in some movie that's real popular right now. He is heartbreakingly sweet and smart and sincere and (apologies to my husband) I'd follow him anywhere today.

3. The roasted garlicky artichoke with vegannaisey sauce at The Newsroom on Robertson. Heaven with charred blackbrown edges.

4. A capella two-, three- or four-part harmony done really well. The kind that tugs your insides in multiple directions, in a soul satisfying way, not in a stomach virus way.

5. Eating surplus micro-mini vegan cupcakes with N and E the night before her birthday while listening to Rufus Wainwright's "One Man Guy." It's already been two years? It's only been two years? Doesn't seem possible that the world existed pre-N.

Overheard in the house

Husband after (sort of) eating his first raw kumquat: "If starvation were an issue, I don't think I'd rely on the kumquat."

Me (after trying to eat one, too, and spitting it out after 4 seconds): "There is a sweetness that's there, though."

Him: "Yeah, but it's buried under miles and miles of wicked tang."

He's right. Kumquats suck.

Don't Know Whatcha Got 'til It's Gone

Never in my life has that '80s-era Cinderella song meant as much to me (melodramatic much?) as it does tonight.

A frantic a-googling of "postum" tonight (after my third failed attempt to locate a jar of the coffee substitute at a suburban Vons store) brought the news: Postum is no more. Kraft Foods (the bastards!) has pulled the plug on the 113-year-old product due to declining sales.

Postum, glorious, caffeine-free powdered grainy and molassesy Postum. Preferred hot beverage of grandmothers, Mormons and Seventh Day Adventists (and me), gone forever! I'm rending garments and wailing like a cat over here.

Two months ago, Kraft (the bastards!) made the announcement, but I just found out tonight. Had I just been better at keeping my ear to the coffee substitute ground and my finger on the pulse of the processed roasted beverage industry (there should be some kind of news source for endangered food brands, an emergency alert system for the powerless consumer), I'd have known it was time to scour the shelves and buy up all the extra jars I could. And now it's too late. TOO LATE! They're gone. ALL GONE!

Why, oh why did I recycle the last empty jar I had before making sure I could replace it? Stupid environmental conscience! Never again will I take down the completely style-less and totally uncool jar of dusty, weird powder to make myself and my little daughter a soothing hot drink on a chilly morning before work. Never again will I hear the metallic swish-grind of the lid as I twist open the glass jar, a sound I never realized I loved until facing the fact that I'll never hear it again.

Sure, there are other roasted grain-based coffee substitutes on the market. Another quick googlefest gave me a few names to try. And try them I will. But it'll never be Postum.

I used to be sheepish and embarrassed when making Postum at a workplace. When people asked me what I was doing or what I was drinking, I'd say, "Oh, it's this weird gramma drink called Postum" and then I'd shuffle back to my desk with my warm, sweet mug of Postum before they had too much time to belittle me. I wish I could take back every word, every second of time I wasted being embarrassed.

To those of you who have a secret love, I urge you not to hide it or be ashamed, but sing out to the mountains and to the seas, for one day, when you least expect it, it could be ripped from your life forever. For serious. RIP, Postum.

Still ridiculous plus what's with the Loo?

hey, I'm starting an actual full-time job on Monday after about 9 months of being laid off/unemployment/full-time staying at home with the K.I.D. and I'm nervous and excited and scared for both myself and for the K.I.D. who has to go to daycare for the first time in her little life (all other mom's working times before this having been handled by nannies). also, I'm hoping that full-time employment will allow me to update this gosh-darn blog thing more frequently than twice in a coon 's age, so stay tuned.

but more importantly, I have a question.

in the several years that I've been entertaining at home as a married woman, I have noticed that the people I'm entertaining (feeding, serving drinks--often alcoholic drinks, but not always) rarely ever use our bathroom during their many hours at our house.

now, maybe I need to call my friendly neighborhood urologist for a checkup, but I rarely DON'T use my hosts' W.C. when I'm visiting someone. so what gives with my guests?

am I THAT bad of a housekeeper that they daren't enter the potty? if so, why hasn't some kind honest soul ever mentioned this to me?

am I stingy with the agua and all their internal moisture is currently assisting other body functions?

are they social camels?

I am baffled and curious.

what say YOU? when out and about at the abodes of your chums, do you avoid their toilettes or barge right in for relievin'?

I really want to know.

ok, this is ridiculous

I keep blaming the fact that I take care of a toddler all day (and night) plus try to keep the house in a state of just-slightly-better-than-so-filthy-they-have-to-call-child-protective-services plus make sure the family eats something with vitamins in it at least once a day for my not taking the time to update this thing, but that's really just a wuss-face cop-out. Cuz if I have enough time to watch small chunks of crap-ass YouTube videos every coupla days, I mos def have the time to throw some poorly organized ideas out here for my own amusement (since I know nobody comes back to this ghost town of a blog anymore) and soul purging and creative juice-flinging.

So here goes. A frantic 1 a.m. blogsplosion because I can't sleep but I can't get anything practical done.

Today's Best 4 Things
1) Defrosted leftover Belgian Chocolate Mousse birthday cake

2) The look on N's face when her dad brought her back after her first (and second) trolley ride at the Grove: the thrill of discovering a new exciting thing in the world plus the primal happiness of being reunited with the first person she ever knew in life all at the same time. I'll never forget it

3) The relief I felt when E and little N walked out the front door for errands and the aforementioned Grove trip, and I got to stay home and try to work

4) Well, I can't think of a fourth thing. It's been one of those weeks. Maybe I'll pick "committing to sitting down and writing a blog entry and then actually doing it." Yep, that's it.

Addendum: The PCH

Reading through the October issue of Los Angeles magazine (cuz it was laying around and I needed a mommy break--it's ok to pile ever more puffed rice cereal on N's high chair tray so I can finish the article about Adam Carolla, right? I'm not a bad mom if she eats her weight in Kix occasionally, am I?) and I almost choked on my high-fiber Joe's O's. Deep in the article, when the author mentions Mr. Carolla's drive to a house in Malibu that he's refurbishing, there's my latest and biggest pet peeve: the Pacific Coast Highway. THE! In front of PCH!

So I'm officially dismounting my high horse on this one and will just briefly and silently pass judgment whenever I hear the offending article in front of the highway's name. If the production staffers for a magazine that dares to claim Los Angeles as its name can't get it right, there's no hope for the rest of the transplants. Feh.

P.S.A.: Those high fiber Joe's O's will do a number on your GI tract if you're not careful. 10 grams of fiber in one serving. Holy smokes! Stick with the regulars, if you know what's good for you.