In which the author tells you how to run your life -- or at least how to make the most of the fun parts of it.

For instance, inside these pages you will learn how to weather a mortar attack in good spirits; how to avoid booking yourself on the Internet into a bed and breakfast full of twee quilts and dusty tchotkes; and how to plan a dinner party that will stun your guests with deliciousness and style and not destroy your will to live with the amount of work you have to do to pull it off.

These are things I know firsthand, and things people who know me often ask me about (though I usually just book them into bed and breakfasts myself -- identifying ruffled death traps is an acquired skill). I am almost always right about everything (food, style and travel-related, anyway, and often many other things) and if everyone would just do as I say, dinner would taste better, cupcakes would not be dry, your parties would be more fun (for you), and mortar attacks... well, they always suck. I can't do anything about them.

*except laundry. I can't manage my own laundry, much less yours.

Search This Blog

Friday, April 1, 2011

who ARE you people? Also: I am worth 3 camels.

Not that I don't appreciate you, but I apparently have 2 readers in Sri Lanka, 14 in Saudi Arabia, 1 in Switzerland (my PEEPS! Shout out to the Hess family in Sarnen! They make schnapps!), 6 in India, 2 in Russia, 8 in Pakistan (the tribal areas? Osama, is that you???) and 4 in Slovenia, among other places.

How on earth did you find me and why are you not leaving me comments??? I am stone cold bugging. It's like the UN up in here.

Funny story about Saudi Arabia -- I was at some government palace there in 2000 with the US secretary of defense -- I was part of the traveling press -- and we had to go to one of those massive banquets. But the Saudi royalty does them so often they just fly through like 400 courses of rather desultory food so we could all go home. I couldn't wear one of my normal cocktail numbers because I'd be stoned or whatever (with actual stones), so I wore this very cool floor length pink silk skirt covered all over with crazy beading and Indian embroidery, and a turquoise blouse from the Gap that had a very precise cut in the sleeve (it was from the outlet damaged goods bin).

Anyhoodle, there was a discussion in the corner that was a bit heated, to which I was not privy, and afterwards our minder from the State Department -- a very nice woman -- said this horrible ancient Saudi prince (really like 900 years old, Cryptkeepery) had offered the SecDef three camels for me. International incident avoided when my minder told him unfortunately I had three children and a husband back home. All lies of course. So I am worth Three Camels.

Please respond in comments from far flung places about how many you are worth. Thank you.


  1. Hollering from the Pacific Northwest. Or, in my case, north of the US border, the Pacific Southwest. Victoria BC. The Portland Oregon of Canada.

    Upon consulting my boyfriend about how many camels I am worth the result is such:

    "All of the camels." And then after a pause,

    "All of the camels that I own."

    Which is none.

  2. As I have three children and a husband, back home, I suppose I am worth three camels.
    And a Jeep.

  3. I don't know how many camels it's worth, bug a wealthy gay man once asked me to be his beard: offering me (a single mom at that time) my own wing in his home, private school for my kids, a "stay at home wife" lifestyle and all of this came with a big diamond ring.

    I gently refused his kind offer, but I assume that kind of thing probably translates to two or three camels.

    Also, when I was about 20, the then-president of a large, national brewery, asked me to his mistress and offered to set me up in a condo with a credit card - this based on the strength of three dances at friend's wedding. (I bet my parents would never have guessed those ballroom dancing lessons would get me in so much trouble!) I don't know how much a condo is worth, but perhaps a camel or two?

    What I want to know is - why has no one asked me to be their mistress/beard since I turned 40? At the ripe old age of 48, I fear I may only be worth a goat!

  4. OMG I love all of you people. I laughed out loud to each of you people.

    The boyfriend with no camels should have quit while he was ahead.

    I would have totally taken the gay man up on the offer.

    as for being 48, ehn. It's a blessing. Men are no good worrisome things who will leave you singing the blues, or so Ms. Eva Cassidy sang. You're better off!

    And Blackbird! you're worth 100 camels.

  5. Pamela - no worries, I am happily married, and having just asked how many camels I am worth, Beloved Spouse immediately said "There aren't enough camels." and then, after a pause said "And when should I expect a yard full of camels?"

    I'm not sure if that last statement was good or bad. Perhaps, like Beck's boyfriend, BSP should have quit after the first statement. ;)


  6. four camels and a very thin goat.
    that's my final offer

  7. ha. Who is this Gabe person???

  8. Shout out from Laos here - just found your blog and love it. Why do you not have millions of readers?

  9. I don't know! You are officially the How To Run Your Life* South East Asian Ambassador. Go forth and multiply my page views!
    (and thank you!) :)

  10. Um, not to be a dick or anything, but proper attribution for my work would be nice. I don't mind if you use it, but at least leave a link or something.