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I am still figuring out the difference between blogs and columns.

Do I write a blog, and turn it into a column? After I've heavily edited and rewritten a column, do I then kill the first-draft blog version posted here (which more or less happens in real time), and replace it with the print version? And don't EVEN get me started on micro-blogging (most of which appears to the left here and can be followed on twitter).

I don't know.

I suspect I'll find out all the answers when I get around to reading the Huffington Post Guide to Blogging -- but I can't see braving the Joseph Beth crowds this time of year... and I hate to order it from Amazon because I prefer to buy locally.

It's a dilemma.

This week, I took the Big Raccoon blog, and worked it into a column.

For now, the blog is where the more or less real-time postings go... Bear with me. There's another book waitin' for you (and me) a year or so down the road.

LipSmackers

"Coming up, we'll take a look at what SOME are calling a lip balm addiction."
-- Noon News Teaser

I enjoyed making fun of the noon news teaser ominously intoning the dangers of lip balm addiction. My facebook friends and I had a good laugh. One girl said she had lip balm in her car, office, nightstand, desk, and every pocket of every winter coat. Was she "normal?"

We said, Aimee, we don't use "labels" like "normal" here. This is a "safe" space. Andrew said he'd just picked up lip balm at the Rite Aid and they made him show ID. Several people had friends they KNEW with problems... Who wanted to remain Anonymous.

This went on for QUITE some time. (Probably because we were all supposed to be working and the prospect of 12 step lip balm programs were far more entertaining.) So tonight, I come home from the movies with my mom and godmother, and we begin to open stocking stuffers. And MINE is a 12-stick lip balm CAROUSEL.

Flavors include:

• Christmas Cupcake
• Sugar Plums
• Spiced Eggnogs
• Peppermint Swirls
• Cherry Gum Drops
• Snowflake Sprinkles
• Strawberry marshmellow
• Holiday Hot Cocoa (!)
• Candy Cane
• Merry Sugar Cookie
• Ginger Bread Man
• Chocolate chip cookie

Each flavor conjures a different BonneBell lipSmacker or Kissing Potion memory from the tween years. Now, I just need 12 boys to kiss for the 12 different flavors.

And, "The serenity to accept the things I cannot change; the courage to change the things I can; and the wisdom to know the difference."

And now: it's One Day at a Time.

Bridges Freeze Before Roadways

I took a spin on I-75 today. Three 360 degree rotations to be exact, when I hit a patch of ice. Turns out, bridges DO freeze before roadways. (Next time I'll know.)

I was on my way to my mom's annual church bake/rummage sale, and had just passed the billboard for Liquor WORLD (presumably for those times when a Barn just isn't enough) when I took my impromptu detour.

Miraculously (and I don't use the term lightly), I didn't hit anything or anyone. The whole thing probably only took a few seconds and I even ended up headed back in the direction I was going anyway. It was still plenty time for my death, if not my life, to flash before my eyes.

I had time to think, "I don't want to die listening to Coldplay (smalltown radio selections are limited)."

I had time to worry about the state troopers finding the bottle of Xanax/ambien in my ripped, blood-stained pockets (valid Rx and labels mind you - I'm not a country music star). I never travel without appropriate pharmaceutical rations - I think of it like the cyanide capsules delta teams tuck in the back of their jaw to bite down on in case they're captured. Cause ya' never know. And cause it's better to have it and not need it, than need it and not have it.

I had time to be relieved my license, registration, and insurance were all properly up to date so if I killed anybody, somebody would be compensated.

I had time to regret not upgrading my Triple A to deluxe so my potentially mangled vehicle could be towed home.

I had time to wonder if Bluegrass Family Health covers a med-vac helicopter, because, please God, don't let me survive a crash only to be killed by the butchers who pass themselves off as medical personnel in my hometown (where you can go in for a hangnail and come out in a body bag).

Also, I hated to die with a full TiVo, and withOUT finishing this week's 30 Rock. (How did Liz's reunion turn out?)

You know. The usual.

After all that, the bake sale was relatively anticlimactic.

I did almost get into a tussle with a 7-year-old who got to a cool pink tote before I did. She pointed out I could still buy the red one just like it, to which I responded, "I'll fight you for it" prompting her answer of (and I'm not making this up) "Bring. It."

It was around this time when I overheard her grandmother wrap up a conversation across the room with the phrase, "so luckily I was licensed for conceal/carry."

And then I decided to content myself with a few pounds of bourbon balls for the day's haul.

Later I posted most everything on Facebook as status updated, eliciting a thoughtful comment from one guy who wrote, "I'm glad you're not dead, 'cause I like your writing."

Awww... Well, that's one anyway.
Out of 657.

And now I think it's time for a bourbon ball.
Cheers!

The Big Racoon

"Loads of websites just clogging up the internet by people [who are] just doing websites about themselves. 'My name is Rupert. This is my cat. I like the Cure.' Who gives a fuck?"--Ricky Gervais


When I said, "Someone's coming in my window. Gotta call you back," I realize now I should've been more specific.

I had been on the phone with my college roommate when I heard what I thought was a racoon scratching around on my second floor awning. When I went to investigate I found half a Hot Sorority Girl protruding through the window of my second floor hall.

The top half.

She looked surprised. But not as surprised as me.

"Uh... Wrong house!" she exclaimed.

Speechless (temporarily), I think I clutched my chest in the international symbol for "I am having a heart attack," before I could gasp out the obvious, which was: "Oh! You scared me!"

She explained a little further. She thought she was breaking into her place. Next door.
I knew I should give her a hand, but I was a little paralyzed. I couldn't think whether I should help her the rest of the way in, or scootch her the rest of the way out, and then go let her in the first floor door.

I was also stricken mystified as to how she'd gotten to the second floor. Had she and her fellow Hot Sorority Girls created a makeshift cheerleading pyramid and somehow boosted her that high? 'Cause that is EXACTLY what I did when I was her age (and all I'd lost was a Ferragamo pump; also, I was very drunk; + my friends JoAlice and Tad egged me on).

Anyway. She came on in.

Which presented more problems. Like, gosh, the house was a mess. I wasn't expecting COMPANY. Mostly though, I was thinking: this could be so much worse. I was relieved, for example, I wasn't naked. (Cause sometimes, in the privacy of my own home, I am.)

I was also glad I was alone, and just as glad she hadn't interrupted a booty call. Mostly I considered her, and me, fortunate that I had NOT yet taken my Ambien...

And really really happy I hadn't shot her.

I was imagining all sorts of headlines and news crews - all of them censoring me, looking dazed, while I explained that was "one BIG fuckin racoon."

Unintentionally Funny Quote of the Week

From Top Chef's Thanksgiving Episode...

Taylor Hawkins, drummer for the Foo Fighters: "It's one of those things you put in your mouth and you just don't know if you should chew or swallow."

- in response to Padma's question: "Why are you making that face Taylor?"

Thanksgiving's Best

"When I worked in a grocery store, I loved nothing more than watching last-minute shoppers panic. Sometimes even now, I'll pop into a grocery store, on a holiday, just for my own amusement. Thank you, lady trying to buy a turkey on Thanksgiving!"

--Amy Sedaris, I Like You: Hospitality Under the Influence

I realize I am someone who is lucky to be invited ANYWHERE, and especially lucky to be invited anywhere for the holidays. Right now, I am on my way to Thanksgiving at my friend Kimmy's -- she has been up since "dark o'thirty" preparing our feast.

I don't have a lot of "holiday classics" in my culinary repertoire (frankly, I consider them a little beneath me), but dues must be paid, and I dusted off the two absolute BEST Thanksgiving menu items I could muster.

The first is an undisputed crowd favorite: "Maker's Mark Sweet Potato Souffle." The title pretty much says it all. The second, is more controversial: my Dad's dressing.

It's very traditional (again, an area where I'm outta my league): cornbread, sage, celery, onions... you get the idea. I have only made it a few times in my life, but I have honed it. It is (if I do say so myself) perfect.

It's controversial because EVERYONE has their OWN version of stuffing -- what we call dressing in my family (presumably, because we don't stuff it into the cavity of anything, lest we all spend the holiday weekend at the E.R.; we're A. alarmists, and B. hypochondriacs).

Some people use oysters, some people use fruit and walnuts (what we call "waldorf salad"). Some people use bread, and on Martha Stewart just this week, somebody used canned cling peaches.

Yeah, it takes all kinds. Except: I think it DOESN'T.

It isn't just that theirs is different, everyone has to concede that mine is BETTER. My college roommate suggests, diplomatically, that when it comes to classics (meatloaf, turkey, chili, etc.) EVERYONE assumes theirs is "best."

Well... Maybe they do.

But they would be what I would call: Wrong.

(They gotta know if it starts with opening a can of anything or includes "cheez" in the title, it's NOT RIGHT. They might LIKE it, but it's not RIGHT.)

When I get invited somewhere, I bring my "A" game. If my dressing wasn't the best (not "my" best, but THE best), I would bring something I was better at. There is no diplomacy in my kitchen. There is no diplomacy in my CD collection. Or on my bookshelves.

BEST is meant to convey something different than "favorite."

For example, I had a good time at "Mamma Mia" this summer (good company, good times, beautiful day, Kentucky Theatre), but the BEST movies I saw were Before the Devil Knows You're Dead and The Savages. I loooooved Death Race, but it wasn't the best anything except the "best chance to see Jason Statham without his shirt on before the next Transporter.

I could go on... And I will...

But dinner awaits one block away.

And they'd BETTER like this dressin'.

30 Rock Quote of the Week

"Meeting someone new... Ugh... All the nodding and smiling and sibling-listing -- and what's the upside? It works, and you have to have a bunch of sex... I just wish I could start a relationship about 12 years in. When you really don't have to try anymore and you can just sit around together and goof on TV shows and then go to bed without anybody tryin' any funny business."

- 30 Rock

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