Off the cuff at Casa del Jaye

Day: So what's in the Indigo bag?

Me: A book.

Day: Oh yeah--what's the librarian's secret?

Me: Huh?

Day: 'What the Librarian Did'. I saw the book title and read the backblurb. What a corny title.

Me: *laughs* Yeah, it is.

Day: So what's her secret? It's something lame isn't it?

Me: Actually no, it's--

Day: *perks up* Did she kill someone?

Me: *repressively* No!

Day: *loss of interest* oh.

Brunchy Conversation at Casa Jaye

Scene: Mama Jaye is curled up on the sofa, enjoying a steaming first cup of morning tea. The boy comes downstairs, fresh out of the shower, leaving damp footprints across wood floor. Mama Jaye's delicate brow pleats in minor distress.

The testosterone-driven, gobs-of-toothpaste & shaver-clippings in the sink leaving, endless-eating machine— aka 'Da Boy'— peers into kitchen and notes bowl of batter on counter.

Da Boy: "So mom, how are those pancakes coming along?" (this passes for subtlety within the neo-adult, pickled in after-shave Neanderthal male sub-species)

Mama Jaye looks up at 21 yrs,7 months and 14 hrs of excruciating labour standing on size 12 feet before her, in wonder. ::short private inquiry with god ensues::

"Why don't you ever make me breakfast?" she asks man-child (screw subtlety)

Boy looks perplexed.

"I've made you breakfast before."

Mama Jaye says nothing, her expression is reply enough.

Much aggrieved, Da Boy triumphantly offers up the penultimate irrefutable culinary proof:

"I made you Pop-Tarts!"

*


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The end is nigh

Crazy woman that I am. after getting home from a long day I decided to bake a carrot cake. Been jonesing for one for awhile and was planning to make it this weekend past, but made a banana chocolate-chip bread for the boy instead.

Anywho, cue ::cravings:: Even though I can barely keep my eyes open I'm so exhausted, I mosey into the kitchen and start baking.

This one isn't being made from scratch. Just used a box of Betty Crocker SuperMoist Carrot cake mix, added in a cup of freshly grated carrots, some golden raisins and... a tablespoon of Wray & Nephew Overproof Jamaican white rum. (The fumes were so strong, I was expecting the oven to explode at any minute).


The cake is cooling now and I'm about to make the cream-cheese frosting. yum.


Project: Ass Expansion about to commence...

Raine Weaver has a post up over on Southern Fried Chicas about where/how writers get their ideas.

For me anything could start the seeds growing. Case in point, Dayan was just telling me his suspicions that two ‘cousins’ he works with, really aren’t cousins but boyfriend and girlfriend.

They seem incredible close to him and he asked if I remember a summer camp he went to years ago where apparently there was another pair of cousins there who were also extremely close/friendly.

Even as a 10yr boy he picked up on the chemistry between them. It turned out that they were not cousins but boyfriend and girlfriend, but had to say they were cousins because of some fraternization rule the camp had.

So while we were hashing the ‘are they or aren’t they’ question re the second/current pair, a vague story idea starts forming in the back of my brain. A very cool fun idea involving several 'cousins'.(I won’t say any more because we writers are notoriously superstitious about broadcasting story ideas before they’re written.)

But that my dears, is a very quick example of how writers get and develop their ideas.

Dinner conversation at the Jaye household

So Day and I were talking music and somehow DMX's name comes up. I start giggling and ask da boy if he remembers this DMX crackhead quote (bolding mine):

"Yo, no matter how much vacation I'm on - we been to St Thomas, Bahamas, all the little islands - I don't wear no flip-flops. I'm never that comfortable, ever, not even in my house."

Day starts laughing too, then says: "Hey I don't like flip-flops either. I gotta be ready to run."




insert Mom Side-eye-->


"Run?"

"Yeah. Like if Godzilla shows up."

How to Celebrate Easter in the Jaye Household

You take down the Christmas tree and all the christmas decorations!

Finally.

Who says it's too much?

My son, that's who. In the comments below I mentioned that the kid took one look at my newly made up bed, shook his head with a bemused smiled and said I was 'so bougie'. A charge he's leveled at me before when he's felt I was being 'too extra' in my pursuit of the finer things. (But let's face it, we're talking about a male animal here, who'd be just as happy in a dank corner of a dirt basement with a flashlight and sleeping on a bed of lichen).

He also likes to call me and my bestfriend the posh club. (Although, to be honest, I think my girl makes me look positively spartan in my tastes, and a slob in day to day living. My house is my home. It's for my comfort. Besides, a few dustbunnies never hurt anyone.

She on the other hand, put the 'anal' in retentive. A total HGTV junkie, her place is immaculate. Looks like a damn model home. I always tease her and ask where the velvet ropes are to cordon off the rooms. And I take delight in ribbing her over any stupid photo op worthy 'artistic displays'. The big glossy paged cook book left open on a intricate brass stand on the granite counter top? Give. Me. A. Break. Chick doesn't even like to crack an egg and she's got some fancy schmacy cookbook on some big ass stand on display. I Laughed. My. Ass. Off., after pointing and asking "What's that?" She told me to "F*ck off." lol. (But she was laughing too, and that's why we've been friends since highschool.)

But I'm off topic. The following are the before and after pics of the bed. The rest of the room needs work, but that will happen over time. (I'd also like to mention that I only have about 1/2 as much pillows (with non of the embellishments) on my bed, as my Marie Antoinette channelling friend has on hers. heh)




It's hard to tell from the pic, because all of the pillows are white, but there are 3 rows of regular pillows (The big square Euro shams, then the regular shams, then the pillows I actually sleep on (with the gold ban at the edge in the pic), then the amber color rectangular thow pillows with the big button, then the two square throw pillows. The whole thing takes up half the bed, so, yeah, ridiculous. (*g*) but I love it!


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A Jaye By Any Other Name...

Deadly Stud: I'm thinking of changing my name.

Jaye: To what? 'I hate my mom'? <--I'm a dab hand with the guilt trip. Verily it cometh down swift and hard.

Demon Spawn: To **Day Van Damme. ('Day' is short of Dayan)

Jaye: ::totally talking over him:: 'Cause anything you would change it to would be the equivalent of 'I hate my mom'. ::Looks at him fondly:: You'll always be Day to me. You're my Day. ::looks out window:: My sunshine.

Dear Son: ::dead silence::

Jaye: ::keeping a straight face:: Finally looks over at DS and notices his expression of disgust.

DS: ::narrow-eyed sneer:: And you call yourself a writer.

=:-O


Deadly Stud during his retro/funky phase

What "DS" Stands For

No matter how hard I try...

I can't seem to convince a certain snooping young man that any references to him as "ds" on this blog means 'dear son' and NOT 'Deadly Stud'.