Tuesday, December 13, 2005


Princess Malin: Hello, I'm calling to follow up on my forwarded mail.
Disgruntled Office Post Employee [scrambled for obvious reasons]: What?
PM: I'm calling to check up on my forwarded mail.
PM: I'm still getting mail at my old address, but I received the change confirmation at my new address.
PM: Well, I'm just concerned that it's not working properly.
DOPE: Oh. Well, yeah. Your mail carrier was out "sick" and he forgot to tell his sub that your mail had to be stopped.
PM: Um, OK. So now it's fixed?
DOPE: Yeah.
PM: OK, what about junk mail. Nobody is living at my old adress, so I don't want any junk mail delivered either.
DOPE: Why?
PM: Because it will be obvious that nobody is home.
DOPE: The mail carrier will make that determination.
PM: What?
DOPE: The mail carrier will make that determination.
PM: I don't understand what that means.
DOPE: The mail carrier will decide if someone is living there or not.
PM: Um, but I'm telling you right now that it's my house and I'm not living there and I don't want junk mail delivered.
DOPE: The mail carrier will make that determination.
PM: So please let me know if this assumption is correct: my mail will be forwarded starting today. And my old address will no longer receive junk mail.
DOPE: Yeah. That's what I said.
PM: So what ... [insert dial tone.]

The DOPE hung up on me.

Think that means he's telling my mail carrier to start the determination-making-process?

Saturday, December 10, 2005

Once Upon a Time

I think I was eleven. Uneven pigtails and big pink bows were my trademarks. And any pastel-colored Lacoste shirt that I deftly tucked into my plaid pants or jeans.

Back then, everyone participated in school plays. It was a given. Probably because most of us were too young to be super-shy or -- in my case -- too happy-go-lucky to even consider that acting would never be my forte.

But thanks to Het Nederlands Lyceum, this abruptly changed the day I was cast as a policeman. Not a cop -- but a tall-hat wearing, good old fashioned British enforcer for the law.

In the first scene, I was told to "patrol" the stage. So I did. Not even seven steps into my exaggerated and decidedly over-the-top march, the "director" sighed, covered his face with his hands, and as gently as possible, instructed me to just stand still.

To this day, I'm terrible at feigning anything. I'm ridiculously easy to read, insanely chatter-box-like and definitely in the camp of putting it all out there. And although I'll never make it on the big screen, I'm deliciously thankful for what I learned in The Hague: be how you are.

Alluring magic, star-studded glitter and inspirational characters will naturally come your way.

Wednesday, December 07, 2005


  • Airport stores actually process returns. Seriously.
  • Top three in the soup world: roast herb-and-olive-oil seasoned veggies; mash or puree; add 3 cups of water and a bouillon cube. Simply superb.
  • Spanish frittatas taste better generously sprinkled with red pepper flakes.
  • Bath-tub non-slip-mats should be hung up to dry after each use. Trust me.
  • Chocolate labs have bad days, too.
  • There is such a thing as too many Christmas songs.
  • Salvation Army bell-ringers really, really love their instruments.
  • Take the high road.
  • Spa-pedicures are so worth the extra four bucks.
  • Red wine and garlic salami pairs exceptionally with multi-grain bread.
  • Trader Joe's honey mustard beats Gray Poupon.
  • We're not the only species addicted to down comforters.

Thursday, December 01, 2005


With princess spin:

Evidently, I neglected to leave a key under the mat for my un-invited guest. He stood on the stoop -- in the dark -- for moments on end, before he realized he might be able to gently shove the front door. He tried it, carefully. And it popped right open. Then he probably got hungry, and thought that I possibly kept some crackers or chocolate-pecan Luna bars in my dresser drawers. He didn't mean to emtpy all the contents on the floor -- but a loud noise must have scared him. And guess what? In his rush to leave, he forgot to leave a good-bye note!

Without princess spin:

Someone busted into my house last week, rummaged through my clothes, and bolted with some fancy jewelry.

Moral of the story: Life is much more fabulous as a princess.