I spent the entire weekend in my pyjamas. Eeyore ones, in lavender, if you must know. I slept late, took naps, finished one quilt top and got a third of the way through another. I made a pan of brownies, roasted a turkey breast, had a couple of tangerine martinis, made a big bowl of tabouli, and a dinner of angel hair pasta with steamed rabe, sauced simply with the best olive oil and a little red wine vinegar and a handful of shaved parmesan cheese.

I watched another several episodes of Firefly (and how did I ever miss that when it was on?) and a couple of movies and the season finale of the Sopranos.

I did not answer the phone, or read my e-mail or work on my blog or my very overdue podcasts. I did not leave the house, not once, not even to get the mail or walk the dogs.

And you know what? It was fucking divine.

Here are some of the random thoughts that came to me over the past two days:
1. In a battle between fingernails and fabric, fabric will always win. Especially if it's silk.

2. I first saw my little house in the rain, and it is still at its best in the rain. It's snug, and the rain mists down through the screen over the pool, and seems like it's in the living room. I love this house in the rain.

3. I am the biggest dilletante I know. About pretty much everything.

4. The New York Times Sunday crossword is best done in bed, with a cup of coffee on a tray.

5. Just because you sleep in till 10 a.m., that doesn't preclude an afternoon nap, especially if there is a thunderstorm.

That is all.

Every time I fill my prescriptions, the pharmacist asks me if I have any questions about my medications, and every time I reply "Yes. Why don't we put Prozac in the water like Flouride?"

I'm thinking that it might be time to double up on the meds, though, at least today, when Microsoft Word and I are having a major battle of wills about formatting and how auto-format prints. I don't think it needs to be highlighted, and Word does. This is new on Word's part, since it has never highlighted things like printer's quotes and elipses before.
I've done all the usual things: closed and reopened my program, rebooted my computer, deleted and recreated text, turn auto-formatting off (in any number of locations and permutations) and still... three periods converts to an elipsis and the elipsis prints with a highlight.

All of this is on a POS Dell running POS Windoze. Of course. This shit never happens on a Mac.

This is on top of any number of other aggrevations I am dealing with today: I have had to tell the IT/Web Guy for at least the fifth time that he needs to unlock AND unprotect all the files I send him in order to copy and paste text. But, no. He gets a file and rather than type in the password (7 letters), he sends me an e-mail to complain that even though he put in the password, he still is locked out. DUDE!

Open with password. Unprotect file with password. Done and fucking done. Or, open with password. Open e-mail. Type a whiny complaint to me. Wait for me to respond (same way I always do, "No. I am not going to unlock the file for you and resend it, unlock it your own lazy-ass self.). Rinse and repeat.

Next aggrevation: searching for all the zip codes for every county in every state where the company does business. I can only do 50 searches a day before the server kicks me off and asks me to pay big money for the use of the search engine. Then, I have to cross reference the zip codes because zip codes can cross county lines. Then I have to cross reference the zip codes to the individual offices because catchment areas can overlap. Then I have to go home and drink.

As my people are known to ask: Why is this night different?

I have spent the entire evening sorting through six or more years of zip disks. I have found duplicates and triplicates of fonts. I have found memos from the bad years at Jackson, and that dates back ten years. I have found the shards and crockery of my career as a graphic designer in a burial mound of out-dated media.

I have also found my (unfinished) novel, which, upon review, is better than I remembered.

I have found photos I thought were lost, and some of them are, since no current application can read them.

I have found about two square feet of floor space in my studio. Whether or not the usuable space was worth the pain of the exercise is another question, entirely.

You all know how much I love me some America's Next Top Model. And you know that I, and about the entire viewing audience this season loathed Jade. Or J'Hayde. Or Darth Jader. Whatever.

Imagine my delight this morning when I opened Savage Chickens. Click it and howl.

Item one was sent from my cousin whose son is about to become a yeshiva boy. I love saying that. I love that this is what he wants to do. How cool is that? A baby rabbi in the family. But I digress.

Item One
Apparently there is a Dylan bio-pic in the works with an assortment of actors lined up to play The Bob. Cate Blanchett has signed on to portray him during his "androgynous phase." He had one? News to me. How did I miss that? Masked, yes. White-face, check. Cowboy, ditto. Uni-Bomber, good with that one. But femme? When?

And didn't we go over this once before on this site? The only person who should play the young and pretty Bob is none other than the pretty Johnny Depp.

Item Two
The Bob is now a DJ on XM Radio, which I knew. What I didn't know is that he does a theme show. Yesterday, in honor of his own birthday, he did a show on Baseball. BASEBALL!!! Is there any more proof needed that this man and I are lost soul mates? Huh? Is there?

Here's the story from AP about his show:
Bob Dylan to Be Satellite Radio DJ

May 23, 6:08 PM (ET)

By DAVID BAUDER

NEW YORK (AP) - Coming from the radio speakers, Bob Dylan sounds as craggy and weather-beaten as he looks - and quite playful, too.

As he reaches his 65th birthday Wednesday, the rock 'n' roll poet is carving out a new role as a part-time radio disc jockey. His weekly "Theme Time Radio Hour" airs 10 a.m. EDT Wednesdays on XM Satellite Radio, with Dylan as both curator and narrator. (It's available eight times throughout the week.)

Much like his concerts, Dylan's radio shows are a journey through 20th century musical Americana, the sort of thing he would have heard growing up in Minnesota with a transistor radio hidden under his pillow when he went to bed.

So far, about the only thing missing is Bob Dylan music, unless you count the off-key verse of "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" that he croaked at the beginning of this week's show on baseball.

Each week Dylan builds his show around a theme, like the weather and drinking songs. For Mother's Day, he celebrated moms with an hour that mixed Buck Owens'"I'll Go to Church With Mama," Ruth Brown's "Mama He Treats Your Daughter Mean" and LL Cool J's "Mama Said Knock You Out."
The majority of the music Dylan plays predates his own heyday.

"I think it's more akin to the way radio sounded in 1952 than it does in 2006," said Lee Abrams, XM Satellite Radio's chief creative officer.

Dylan's entertaining baseball show also mixed in calls from classic baseball games, like Curt Gowdy announcing Ted Williams' home run in his final at-bat with the Boston Red Sox.

He refreshingly avoids the obvious: Dylan spins Billy Bragg and Wilco's "Joe DiMaggio Done it Again" and not Simon & Garfunkel's "Mrs. Robinson" ("where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio ..."). He plays Buddy Johnson's "Did You See Jackie Robinson Hit That Ball" and ignores John Fogerty's overexposed "Centerfield."

"If diamonds are a girl's best friend, why do so many girls get mad when you want to go to the ballpark?" Dylan says during this week's show. "You tell me."

That sort of absurdist humor is what may most surprise listeners. Dylan told mother-in-law jokes a la Henny Youngman during one show ("I just came back from a pleasure trip - took my mother-in-law to the airport"). He discussed - seriously, we think - watching the old country-flavored musical/variety TV series "Hee Haw."

His intro to "Mama Said Knock You Out" became an old white man's rap.

"Here's LL Cool J," he said. "Don't call it a comeback. He's been here for years, rockin' his peers, puttin"em in fear, makin' tears rain down like a monsoon, explosions overpowerin' the competition. LL Cool J is towerin'."

And catch this opening to that show on mothers:

"Going to pay tribute to that bountiful breast we all spring from, mother dearest," he said. "'M's' for the many things she gave me. 'O' is for the other things she gave me. 'T' is for the things she gave me. 'H' is for her things, which she gave me. 'E' is for everything she gave me. 'R' is for the rest of the things she gave me. Let's talk about mothers."

Bob Dylan is secretly silly. Who knew? (Miz Shoes here: who knew? Anybody who ever really listened to the man. DUH.)

Although you can occasionally hear the shuffling of papers as he talks, Dylan sounds like a natural on the radio.

"I was completely surprised" by his radio show, said Jonathan Cott, who edited an anthology of Dylan interviews that was released to coincide with the 65th birthday. "I was surprised when he wrote his 'Chronicles' book. I'm surprised by him all the time. I didn't think he'd ever be a disc jockey."

Abrams said Dylan topped his "wish list" of celebrity DJs when he started working for XM. It took him two years just to find the right person to get a message through to Dylan.

When he finally did, he learned Dylan was a fan of XM and a subscriber. After growing up listening to those old 50,000-watt radio stations from miles away across the Plains, Dylan had secretly fancied himself as a DJ. Much to XM's delight, he said yes, and they worked out a schedule that wouldn't be too disruptive to Dylan's regular life on the road.

The singer still maintains an aura of mystery. He's not involved in XM's weekly call about the show with a producer. He doesn't record it at one of XM's studios; in fact, Abrams has no idea where Dylan records it.

"They deliver the show to us every week," he said. "It's a big surprise when we open the package and listen to it."

Today is Bob Dylan's birthday. He's 65 years old. That means if he had a real job, the powers that be would make him retire. Instead, he's still rocking.



He's made a couple of concessions to age and a bad back, I hear. Instead of standing around wanging on his guitar, he now hunkers over his keyboard. Frankly, since I play neither, I don't see that there's much difference in the backstrain between the two.

He's still my idol, OK? I skipped this last tour for a couple of reasons:

1. I read the reviews and he was only doing a 14 song set.
2. Tickets started at $65 for the bleacher seats.
3. That made it $4.65 a song, and I don't know about that. I can buy them for 99 cents each on i-tunes.
4. I really, really, really felt I could live my life without seeing Merle Haggard live.
5. Nobody, and I mean NO-FUCKING-BODY will go with me to see The Bob anymore. I've used up all the rock and roll goodwill I ever had with any of my friends and loved ones.
6. It was at a casino... I'm just not ready to start seeing my favorite performers in a casino lounge.

Anyway, this year I actually sent an invitation to dinner to his official Sony web site. I explained that I'm just an old lady myself, and not a stalker (really) but that since the guy's been on tour for what amounts to his whole freakin' life, I thought, just maybe, that he'd like a home-cooked meal once in a while and I'd be happy to provide it.

A little brisket, a little kugel... he's a Nice Jewish Boy, right?

The webmaster didn't have the decency to even answer me. I wasn't kidding, OK? Sheesh.

So, once more, Happy Birthday, Bob, and many, many, many more. And if you're passin' back this way, I'm not that hard to find. You can look me up, if you've got the time.