Still Crazy After All These Years

I've been obsessed.

It is part of my particular contiguous nature - meaning, in my head anyway, the pieces of myself that do form the whole. You know, the sum of the parts is greater than the whole.

Wah?

Yes, I think I mean that.

But, obsessed still. This is a long way of saying I do have an obsessive nature. So the latest in my obsessions is YouTube. The beginnings of this, as many of my obsessions, comes from my early morning rumblings and wanderings on the internet. It was bound to happen - so many times when a thing is researched that search will lead you to YouTube.

So now I'm finding myself down rabbit hole after rabbit hole. One subject with dozens and dozens of answers. I dig in!

• How to apply makeup, tightlining in particular
• How to create a messy bun
• How to pick an organizing system
• How to clean dirty grout
• How to make perfect coffee
• How to have the loveliest skin
• How to set up your 2017 agenda

Nothing earth shattering, but everything orbiting in my obsessions. I'm discovering that no matter how much of a nut I believe my doings and oooings, refoldings and holdings, disciplines and lack of disciplines - there is someone out there nuttier than I could dream of being.

Such comfort!

Is that bad?

And the community of women! Lovely lovely women! Talented, smartly spoken, beautiful, kind, knowledgable, sharing women. My search list is varied and long. I'm obsessed!

I think I want to join them.

I do confess things in my hidden delightful place, this blog. Because it's out here in scary, scary land, but it's also everyman's land. The land that time has forgotten. Because we don't, for the most part, read more than headlines (I'm not counting all of us book readers) so the actual words written here in this hidden place are safe and camouflaged. And I love a disguise!

Bisou my beauties.

Anxiety

Courtesy of lol-rofl.com

Small confession. Small part of a confession? You invisible people out there might be my therapists because let's face it, therapists give me anxiety!

In my 40s I started having anxiety. I didn't even know what to call it, but I'd have swirly thoughts, started having a hard time falling asleep because of all the insane thoughts in my head. Then during the day I'd have swirly thoughts. The trouble with swirly thoughts is no one else really knows you're having them and if you lash out they are generally left scratching their heads wondering, "WTF?"

I'd get worked up, heart thumping, mind jumping, turning all of those molehills into huge ugly mountains.

When I first got divorced 10 years ago I started having panic attacks. Holy Hannah. Those are fun. The first one I had I remember vividly. I had something to do or somewhere to be, was getting ready, and bam - there it was. I remember feeling exactly how I felt when I did Speed back in my 20s. I never really liked that feeling and that might be where I first discovered, delightedly, that a life of drugs was not for me.

The panic attack can be described in my experience as doom. I felt an impending doom. It made me keep taking deep deep breaths. Like I just needed to breath (isn't the body a wondrous thing?), like I just needed a minute.

Except you can't get that minute and no amount of air makes you feel better. Doom. Something BAD is going to happen. Something very bad. Luckily, for me, nothing BAD ever did happen. Except the anxiety.

Gah

In our family we have joked over the years about the L-Family Mental Illness. We'd joke how we do this crazy and that crazy, but we're still lovable.

Gah

I don't particularly feel lovable all the time. I think this anxiety helps me keep people at arms length. I don't want too many too close and when they are too close I push them away with a bit of bad behavior.

I know you can't change what you don't acknowledge so I am saying this out loud here in my little confession-land. It feels safe here although that is simply a crazy thing to say! This is the most unsafe place (meaning internet-land), but it feels safe because I don't really know who might be here and this emboldens me.

How strange and magical that is.

Change can take place now that it is acknowledged. I will hang on to that.

Wowzers! Fantastic and wonderful!

Love and smooches to all of my therapists.

"You Are a Bitch!" "No, That's Just My Face."

I have resting-bitch-face. I didn't know this was a thing. I knew something was wrong with my face (easy there . . .) a long time ago, but until I actually saw this phrase I didn't know what to call it!

It catches me off guard at times. I'm happily in, say, Target. Shopping, putting crap in my cart, wandering around in the office supply area (obsessed), or looking for 3 oz cups for the bathroom (where the hell are they anyway??) when I catch sight of my face in an unexpected mirror.

Aaah! There is my face. Frowning. Brow wrinkled. Mouth turned down. It always catches me off guard. I look closer into the mirror. There it is. The face. The face I'm presenting. What is going on? I'm happy in this moment. I'm wandering and thinking and shopping. Why the face?

I look again. I adjust my posture. I relax my face. I put on a pleasant expression. Now I look more like I feel. What is going on?

I think it's partly an introverted thing. Introverts get entirely lost in their own thoughts. Lost and unaware. The awareness that is lost expresses itself across the face. Resting Bitch Face. I think it's that simple.

Gah - I get headaches sometimes worrying about shit like this. Self-awareness woman!

I found this fantastic article about introverts on playfullytacky.com that I could have written. 

Originally found here.

Things You Should Know About Introverts

1) We need to recharge alone. This right here is the cusp of the entire introvert vs extrovert debate (if there is one, anyway) – Introverts need to be alone to recharge. We tend to get completely worn out by socializing. This is basically what it means to be an introvert.

2) We don’t hate being around people, but we probably hate crowds. I love being with people, but if you drop me into a large crowd I instantly feel like I’m alone and invisible. I try to avoid situations where I feel that way, so I may decline your open invitation to some random event. It doesn’t mean I don’t like to be around you, it just means I like to have more control over my surroundings.

3) We don’t mind silence. I can sit beside you in silence and not think we are having a bad time. This is especially true on road trips and can be a little confounding to true extroverts. For this reason, I especially like going to the movies where it is already considered rude to chat. Rule for dealing with introverts – don’t tell me I’m “too quiet.” I hate that. Sorry I’m making you uncomfortable, but you really don’t get to decide how much I have to talk.

4) Just because we are introverted doesn’t mean we are shy. Introvert and shy are actually two different things.

5) We can turn on an extroverted personality when necessary, but it is especially draining. I have no problem getting up in front of a group of people and giving a talk. I don’t even get nervous by a question and answer period. But, here is the thing, I will need major recharge time afterwards and I won’t be able to keep up this extroverted illusion all day. I can turn it on to dazzle a crowd, but if you take me out for lunch afterwards, I’ll probably just listen to you talk. I am an excellent listener.

6) We aren’t judging you. Did I get quiet? Do I have a mean look on my face? I’m not judging you; I’m just wrapped up in my thoughts with my bitchy-resting-face on. I might have even forgotten you were there. Sorry, just poke me. I didn’t do it on purpose.

7) We secretly love it when you cancel plans. I like being with you, but finding out I suddenly don’t need to be “on” and it wasn’t actually me that backed out? – priceless! Don’t worry if you have to cancel, I’m probably thrilled to be able to stay in my pajamas.

8) We can get very wrapped up in our own thoughts. My inner monologue is epic. When you have a strong monologue constantly running in the background, it is pretty easy to settle-in and listen for a while. I have to work through things in my head before I proceed, so I usually need a few minutes. When I’m ready to move forward though, I am 100 percent on top of it!

9) We can be pretty bad at connecting. You know when you have had a really bad day and you just want to call up a friend and chat? Yeah, I’m bad at that. I tend to wait for extroverts to reach out and include me, so when the time comes that I need support, I can be a bit lost.

10) We don’t like to hang around. That time after an event or meeting ends and stragglers hang around to talk – yeah, I know this is the perfect time to make more plans, connect with new people, and get involved with future projects, but I really really really hate this. I’m probably already checking my phone in my car before you have even picked up your purse. Small talk with strangers is my kryptonite.

11) We have strong opinions. Just because I have difficulty sharing them sometimes doesn’t mean I don’t have opinions. Give me an extra minute to compose my thoughts and I will continue to push myself to speak up sooner. It is a give and take here.

Now, That's a Good Body

I've been blessed with a good body.

No, not that way you schnook. (Excuse the Yiddish. I'm obsessed.)

I mean that my body is healthy, strong, in a certain light appealing, and nicely reactive. It works mostly how I need it to work and if it doesn't work a certain way it responds rather quickly to learning something new.

Kinda like my brain.

So, with this blessing comes accountability. Meaning, if it isn't behaving the way I need it to; who can I point at? Why, that would be me!

Yep and yes. Done and done. Had to be said. For me, the visual word is so much better than a thought. So here's my visual Mr. DeMille! (cue vague movie-reference). Bloop!

~~~~~~~~

Sidenote Thought - Going to the Movies

Pup, Shelley-Belly, and I went to see Gravity.

I might be the ONLY person on the planet (yuck yuck yuck) that didn't like this movie. For whatever reason, I was unable to suspend belief. I have a feeling it was my mood, but maybe a flaw in me. Who knows. I HATED it. Pup and SB liked it! I do love Sandra Bullock and George makes me laugh. But it was a nogo that evening.

::sad face::

In a bizarre, validating kind of way, it made me feel good to hate this movie. I usually love every movie I see and feel very pollyannaish in that.

Or I'm a bitch and going to fry in hell.

You pick!

Sunday Funday!

Gathering Moss

Transition.

Are you a lover of that word? Transition.

From thesaurus.com
Part of Speech: noun
Definition: change, often major
Synonyms: alteration, changeover, conversion, development, evolution, flux, growth, metamorphosis, metastasis, passage, passing, progress, progression, realignment, shift, transformation, transit, transmutation, turn, turning point, upheaval
Antonyms: beginning, conclusion, end, finish, introduction, sameness, stagnation, start

Do you love what it might mean? Mean for you? Mean in general? Mean for propulsion? Your propulsion?

I'm not alluding to any major change. Not truly. But of course yes, yes a bit. Change.

Because if you're not moving and changing, you're still. And being still could mean you're stuck. I know this isn't good. I know because I'm a veteran of being stuck. Therefore I've become very very good at kicking my own ass. You know, to get it moving.

I make that effort mostly because it's my nature. I make that effort because I do care to improve. I make that effort because change is not comfortable for me and I need to challenge that portion of me always or I'd just be at home with those I love and never venture out. Although, remarkably, I've done many many things in my past and those that know me may have thought, "Oh! That took some balls." Maybe they thought that.

So hallelujah! Thank goodness that something pushes me. It might be me. It might be circumstance. It might be desire. It might be necessity. Yes! Yes, and yes is my favorite word.

Our little Calvin. Sleep peacefully forever now little dude. Smooches and I will miss your annoying ass. 

I Left That Where??

I have a lot of devices.

I have my beloved iMac that is beginning to show his age.

I have my new Macbook Pro laptop (kiss kiss). A powerhouse that I will be loading with all of my powerhouse software so I can do my new job on the fly as I've found working at home all the time is kinda lonely and I need the office culture to keep me lovely and smart and plugged in. This sweetie is gorgeous and I am in love with it.

I have my iPad. I didn't love my iPad at first. I kinda thought it was crazy to have, yet, another thing to manage. I have found that it's a great resource and very portable for my transient ways at the moment. My scary-genius boss set up my work email on this little baby so I have to keep it close. Pup got me a keyboard that holds it and then snaps onto as a cover. That really clinched the deal for me. I hated that touchscreen. My brain loves to work fast; when it's working.

Last, but not least, is my phone. I stopped bitching about it (finally) and find it lovely. Samsung, love has grabbed me, beat me over the head, and left me a slave to you. #overstatingismylife

Why am I talking about these life-helpers? I have a hard time managing everything!

First: the email. I have email everywhere. I have five email accounts for differing reasons. Jobs, transitioning, blog. All five of them are necessary. And all five of them come in on every device. Gah!

It doesn't stop me from losing emails. Forgetting emails. Over-answering emails. Under-answering emails. I am in email overload. I think it's my fault.

Then there is Facebook. I have been goofing with it for the past year and have found it fun and have found it a time suck as maybe some of you with Facebook have found it.

I open Facebook on my iMac, I open it on my Macbook, I open it on my iPad, I open it on my phone. I forget to shut it down. I'm sure if anyone is looking, and I'm pretty certain no one is, it looks like I'm on all the time. #fail

And the pinging. If I don't watch it, all of these things are chiming, pinging, ringing, nagging. Pup will say, "Was that you? Which one is it?" He's no better. He has lots of devices as well.

It's a dinging hell around here. And I'm not even adding in the appliances that ding and ping.

I could turn them all off and sometimes do. Turn off all the sounds that pop out of them. The quiet is good!

How do you guys manage all that you do? Am I missing an app? Don't tell me about it! But do tell me how you manage your stuff.

Just Like Audrey Hepburn

It's been a long and hot summer.

And, as mentioned, I've been wearing nothing but skirts, dresses, tanks. Nothing with legs or sleeves. My happiest days are when I can say, "I'm wearing only two things!" Pup usually says, "Take one off!"

That's how hot it's been. And now it's September. And still pretty hot. And I work retail. Where you're running around. And I'm hot. I just am!

Yesterday morning I had to open at The Turnstyle. I haven't opened in a loooooong time. In fact a lot of this hot summer I wasn't at work at all with all the Barnabee squiring I was involved in (smooches Barnabee).

Before I leave for work I stand in front of my closet. Peering into its depths. There is more in there than needs to be - hey, I'm a woman. But just between you and me? That closet is out of control. No matter how much I edit and purge and ween out crap, it's full full full.

Imagine the sound of hangers being shuttled to the left, click click click. I go deeper and deeper.

Aha! A little black dress. Sleeveless. To the knee. A kick pleat in the back. Price tag still on. WTH?

A woman phenomenon. We buy stuff on sale. My favorite phrase is, "It costs less than a latte!" Nothing makes me happier than a price tag with several strikes through the price making it lower and lower and than it's thrown in a 75 percent off rack. Oh the heaven of it all. Even at The Turnstyle, a consignment store, I love when it's at least 50 percent off.

But I digress, of course.

I clip off the tag. Look lovingly at the price. "Ooooo, that was a good shopping day." I slip on the dress.

I like to turn to the side, suck everything in perfectly, admire my front bumps and back bumps, and convince myself how amazing I look. Hey - it's all presentation. Even when you catch a glimpse of the back bump in motion. Oye vey!

I throw my badly behaved hair up high in a clip, pull out some very artful hangy-pieces (yup - otherwise known as what-the-hell hair) and call it a day.

I trot off to work where new young un interim manager/intern Izzy and Shelley-belly tell me I look just like Audrey Hepburn.

Yup, I look exactly like this, right down to the sunglasses and coffee.

Oh the power of a little black dress! And be quiet y'all. A girl can have a moment yes?

Hooches - repeat after me - I may not be everything, but I sure am something!

Go get em!

Let's Have a Kiki

I am obsessed with the Scissor Sister's song, Let's Have a Kiki. Obsessed!

*warning - graphic images and language (it's not that bad, but you gotta protect those that need protecting.)

I cannot stop listening to it.

Of course I was a bit confused regarding the meaning of Kiki. Originally I thought party. Then I came to realize it is a word, similar to our much beloved F-word, that can mean anything - driven by the person saying Kiki. Whatever makes you happy. Be it a party, sexy-time, a boy, a girl, a cocktail. If it makes you happy, it's a Kiki.

Necessary or unnecessary background for weekend story.

I went to Rice Lake to visit my friends that have a home on the lake. Peaceful, lovely, warm and calm in the summer and crisp and frozen in the winter. A small small town, but always fun when I go see my oldest and dearest friend, Deb-oh-rah.

When I go to Rice Lake we go auctioning, antiquing, junking. More fun than I deserve.

On this evening we take the pontoon to town to have dinner and a few cocktails.

After dinner we decide to go to the Lions and use Mikey's secret card (not so secret - I just wanted to say that) to gain entrance, and have a delicious cocktail overlooking the lake.

A large group come in. A group that has been having fun all day. Their energy is good! Laughing, story-telling, hitting-each-other-on-the-back fun.

One woman raises her glass and adds onto a story that we have missed the beginning of . . .

"Ladies - how many of you have had to get up in the middle of the night to pee because, in your past, you pushed babies out of your vagina?"

Rowdy laughter!

I mutter under my breath, "Not me, I do my kegels religiously."

Several woman are adding to her inquiry. Much talk about big-headed babies and the mystery of women.

I stand, swept up in the camaraderie of the moment, raise my glass of whiskey and diet, and declare, "Bow to the power of the vagina!"

Dead, cold silence. Picture about two dozen heads swung my way.

I sit and giggle a little. Mikey busts out laughing, Deb laughs a bit nervously.

I take a sip of my cocktail. The bar recovers.

Blurting just may be my Kiki!

Do You Ever . . .

Ironic shot of not-cute feet. Yes, I am fixing that polish this morning.
And yes, that is a huge bruise on my toe. Don't ask.

Do you ever . . .

not look something up in Google just because you WANT to keep your preconceived notions about your misinformation? (sheepish)

get up, start with your day, doing this and trying that, and realize at noon that you are not dressed and still running around with bed hair and remnants of mascara under your eyes?

take scoops of peanut butter right out of the jar with a spoon?

wonder aloud how people can resist you? (this one makes me laugh because, well . . . , because I'm damn funny)

move piles of crap on your desk to this place and that place until, finally, you have missed any window of completion/opportunity that may have been open?

touch the screen of your laptop then get mad because it isn't responding like your iPad would? (I'm innocent/I'm not innocent)

think your feet are the cutest things you've ever seen?

eat liver pate for supper?

email so much from your phone that your thumbs hurt?

wonder what happened to that English teacher that made that huge difference in your life?

loved a friend even though they are the hottest mess you've ever known?

ignore turn signals when someone is trying to change lanes? (I personally believe that a turn signal is a demand, not a request - move your arse! Be assertive! I am convinced I will fry in hell)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Have you voted for the name of my camper yet? Please Vote! Otherwise I'll have to name it Kiki just because no one has picked that one yet and I feel sorry for it.

Have a beautiful weekend hooches! I'm off to the land of no consequences and no pretensions. Not to mention, no worries. I'll write from jail.

Be the Cat

Toes need love too.

I wake with a headache.

I tumble down the stairs and flop on the sofa in The Big Room, pull the laptop onto my lap (what a handy name don't you think?).

I'm maybe in a mood. I'm not a fan of being in moods. You know I'm talking about a bad mood right? I feel the overwhelming urge to add a smiley face, but I'm too crabby.  :)

And the headache is still firmly in place.

I don't eat too many carbs and yesterday I was kinda on a carb-fest. Could this be my punishment?

I want to go to the kitchen and make myself some coffee, but the cat DK has already claimed my thighs as hers and she really feels so cozy laying there with her little arms shoved under the MacBook that is on my thighs.

I have lots of things to do today and don't really have time for a bad mood. What's up with bad moods anyway? They surely don't help the things I have to do today. They surely don't help any crappy family situations that may or may not have occurred yesterday. I don't want to be cryptic, but I am feeling cryptic.

Ironically I was telling my NP yesterday during my yearly how happy I mostly feel. Happy like an idiot is how I put it. She laughed out loud at the thought. Me being an idiot or me being happy? I'm not too sure! Ha!

Here's what I need to do today. Be the cat. Take a deep breath. Take a step back. Let family handle family. My headache won't change a thing. My crabbiness won't help a thing. In particular it won't help me.

I love all of them, but I'm kinda important too.

And I really hate headaches.

Fear of Falling

Age, 26 - this girl was not often afraid

Pup was out of town over the weekend golfing with his sister and her family.

I was originally going, but was gently told that crappy golfers like myself are not welcome on the courses these good golfers would be going to. I was going to hang out on the cart and I don't know what else.

As it turned out I was unexpectedly scheduled to work and had to bow out. So I stayed home and had fun in spite of myself.

:)

I am a crappy golfer. Worse than a crappy golfer.

Part of it is intimidation. Which kinda pisses me off. Why would I allow myself to be intimidated?

I've asked Pup to golf with me, but bottom line I can see that he isn't that into helping a newbie. Or it's me projecting my fears. I don't know!

I don't even exactly know what I'm working through in this moment.

Because if I don't take care of my fears who will? I do have lots of fears that I have to plow through. All the time. Sometimes I am really good at it. I can rear right up into the face of it and holler! Other times I sidestep the fear like the crab (Cancer per my horoscope!) I am.

So . . . let my fears pile up? Hunt a few down and do them in?

I'm not just talking golf here people.

This week I will load my rifle and get me some fear. I will hang the heads on my wall and feel boastful that I killed that one . . . and that one . . . and that one.


You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, 'I have lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.' You must do the thing you think you cannot do.
~ Eleanor Roosevelt

The greatest mistake you can make in life is to be continually fearing you will make one.
~ Elbert Hubbard

The enemy is fear. We think it is hate; but, it is fear.
~ Gandhi

Of all the liars in the world, sometimes the worst are your own fears.
~ Rudyard Kipling

Grin and Bare It

I work in a small consignment store.

There are a few men that come into the store. Pretty fucking amazing men frankly. Men that think outside of the norm when it comes to shopping. Men that are curious and stay because it's awesome. Men that are stuck there with their wives (I'll never in a million years figure that one out - go home - go to the Home Depot - go anywhere but following your wife around looking like an idiot). Men that are gay and therefore (in a sweeping general sense) more savvy to shopping. Men that consign.

I had a guy come in yesterday that said, "Your men section is small, like in all consignment stores, but I always find something awesome."

I just nodded and smiled at him. Maybe I even winked. Because he's in. He gets it.

Our store deals with customers and consigners. Clearly that's how it works. Customers come in and shop. Consigners come in and consign. Many of the customers are also consigners. Some consigners would drop dead before they'd shop the store.

The consigners are mainly women. The customers are mainly women.

In the past few weeks:

• I was called "her highness" by a disgruntled consigner that doesn't like to follow rules and told me in a Russian accent, "I am so sorry I am not up to your standards your highness, but I cannot follow the rules because I blah blah blah fuckin' blah." Bite me.
• A woman argued with me on a piece of designer clothing that was soiled around the collar. The consigner kept telling me, "This cost a lot of money. Someone will want this. It's a great party outfit. Do you realize who Oscar de la Renta is?" Bite me. First of all, wearing an outfit that makes you look like a piece of wedding cake (sorry Oscar) is heinous; just because it cost lots of "money" doesn't make it good. It's dirty - get the hell out.
• A woman was staring at my name tag and said, "Do you WORK here? When did you start wearing name tags?" Bite me. WTF? She also insisted on wearing a bracelet around the store because, "She wanted to see how it feels. I won't steal it." Yes, of course, she stole it. Get your husband to bite me. I'm guessing it's been a few years since he's had any fun.
• A woman stomped her foot and pouted when told she couldn't leave all of her stuff for consigning and go have lunch. "I'm late! Can't you just do this?" Bite me. Get in line. And plan your day better.
• A woman walked out in a huff saying, "I am not bringing stuff here anymore. It never sells." Bite me. Her stuff was usually pity-takes; which, frankly, I don't condone.
• A woman who had to tell me a story about every pieced she brought in. Bite me. What the hell do I care? Do you see the consigners waiting their turn behind you?
• A customer brought a pile of stuff up to the counter, said she was ready, and then while I was organizing her items, she's still deciding. "Oh! Maybe I should try that on again! Let me think about it. Oh, I saw a top - let me run get it." Bite me. People are stacking up behind you. Decide before you come to checkout.
• A customer indignantly marched up to the front of the store exclaiming, "Who put that top away I was looking at?" Bite me. WTH are you talking about? She found it. Right where she left it. Sigh
• A consigner that has consigned one piece of clothing and calls every day to see if it's sold. Frets every time she's told, "not yet." Bite me. There are thousands of pieces in this store. Not all of them sell.

I tell Pup stories every day when I come home from work. He laughs his ass off and can't believe what he's hearing most of the time.

It makes me feel good to laugh along with him because, hey, you have to laugh!

But for now, I'm buying myself the hugest tiara I can find and changing my name-tag to "Her Highness."

Dirty Little Secrets

I've had the secret-things-girls-do conversation with friends and family in the past. The weird little things we do that we may or may not want anyone else (read - men) to know about us.

Of course, most of that flies out of the window once you're married. At least when you're married to a man. It's hard to keep the veil of mystery intact after the first time your husband sees you peeing. ahem. Not that I would know anything about this. ahem

• I don't shower every day.
• I eat an entire bag of Doritos. Every time I eat Doritos
• I daydream. A lot.
• I like my alone time. A lot.
• I sing along with my iPod. A lot.

What's your secret? Come on; tell me! No one is listening.

Fake It Till You Make It

I'm in The Big Room, Pup's MacBook on my lap, clicking around my blogs, drinking my morning coffee.

I have to work at The Turnstyle later today so I'm enjoying my early time spent alone, fireplace on, Lorenzo's cat on my lap, mind spinning on what I could be accomplishing.

Not lying when I say I have projects, started for real and started only in my head. At this very moment, the house looks like an episode from Hoarders. And it's all my stuff.

A pile of ironing draped over a chair here in The Big Room, various scarves draped over the couch in the living room waiting for my approval to wear when leaving the house (really? they have to STAY there?), piles of stuff from our shopping yesterday still on the island in the kitchen, messy bowls and measuring cups from whoopie pie making last night (Pup HAD to have a whoopie pie pan from BB&B. I'm telling you - that recipe was complicated and I didn't think they were very good - SUGAR HIGH!), magazines strewn all over the desk next to the pit-couch where I sit in The Big Room. A mess. Not hot either. Just a mess.

But that's okay. I'll get to everything. I will.

Meanwhile, George knows what to do even while surrounded by his own mess.

Nap in the sun, close those eyes and relax, it will all get done.

Hot Men Friday

The new year is nearly here.

I'm excited for the new year. I feel very sanguine about the coming year. That all by itself is a pleasing feeling (More than a Feeling - sigh - I still love Boston). I haven't had that particular pleasure for a bit of time. So,

"Hello delight - where the fuck have you been? I've been very sad and lackluster without you."

As most of us bloggers/writers know, even though we share a slice of ourselves to anyone who stumbles onto our blog, there is, like an iceberg, much more below our surface.

We don't really know what motivates some bloggers to be endlessly entertaining, we don't know the creative force behind some of the brilliant fashion and decorating blogs out there, we don't entirely know the process behind those thoughtful and provoking blogs we love, and we don't know what could motivate a blogging-asshole. We just don't know. We think we do. But we don't.

For instance, the face I show here in my blog is a mostly happy face. I am mostly a happy girl. With that is the mostly dark girl as well. I kinda like the dark girl, but I never want to foster her because, truth be told, she can scare the shit out of me from time to time.

So, on this forum, for me, I let the happy girl out. But never confuse upbeat with weak.

We bloggers are a convex and rectilinear sort and to ever assume you can know what to expect - well, that could get your arse in a vice. That's what keeps me coming back. Isn't it fun not really knowing?

Happy New Year my friends. I am embracing the great and gristle. It keeps it interesting!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chris Noth

 

 

 

 

 

I have a thing for big, dark, men. I kinda love a bit of fluff and especially love a goofy grin and broody face. That juxtaposition sends a Bullet to, if not my heart, then someplace I can't talk about here. Yes, I said it. I'm not ashamed. Don't lie peeps, you all do it too

I am a great big Sex and the City fan. I own the deluxe boxed set and love to pull out episodes from time to time. Some of my favorite scenes are with Mr. Big. I loved it when his tanned, smooth, brown, and a tiny bit hairy, chest would be in Carrie's bed.

I'm enjoying The Good Wife for his good guy persona and the underlying bad bad boy that he's trying like hell to squash.

LOVE HIM!

I'm Annoying

I know you guys don't know me that well, but I really can be annoying. Hey! You guys that DO know me - no fair chiming in with your raucous agreements!

The thing I am MOST annoying about is nutrition. I go ON and ON and ON. It's a wonder I haven't been murdered in my sleep with a fish oil gel shoved down my throat. (Pup? Is that you?)

I'm not saying I adhere to everything I say, (which makes it ever so much more annoying) but I just LOVE spewing out crap I've learned from classes or readings. Real boner-killing things like:

Sugar - you may as well get ready for your heart-attack if you eat any of this crap.

HFCS - our government is trying to kill us by subsidizing all the corn-producers in the country. Evil Evil!

Grains! No one would ever fart again if we stopped eating this crap!

Soy! Did you know that if men ingest too much of this shit they actually grow breasts??

You get my point. Do you want to choke me until my eyes bulge out yet?

So when I found this I laughed and laughed!



Oh my god, I haven't had tears squirt out of my eyes this hard for quite some time.

Wrong Assignment

I know that being left-handed has its challenges. I know I have to be in absolute quiet to read my Financial Accounting textbook. I know I will have to work twice as hard to get half as far.

Grr and arg!

I am enjoying the organized process of this class. I do love the neat (well, kinda neat) rows of numbers (with some erasure marks to be certain).

But turning in the wrong homework? ::banging head::

Twice?

I had it written down wrong. I heard him and wrote it down wrong.

My instructor gave me credit in spite of that. I'd kiss him, but he doesn't look like the easily-influenced type. You know what I'm saying? Ha!

My brain fascinates me! Should I donate it?

Who Says I'm Not Cool?

This is what happens when we stay up to watch Saturday Night Live. We fall asleep during the last half hour and wake up right in the middle of a BRILLIANT infomercial about 80s music.

Journey
Boston
REO Speedwagon
Heart
Foreigner
Pat Benatar
The Cars
The Pretenders

We hopped right on our 'puters and ordered us up some ballads. I've had them a week now and my vocal chords are RASPY from all the bellowing going on around here. I even called my darling Sarah Bella to play Sara by Starship to her over the phone.

She said, "Momma, you're such a nerd." but I could hear her giggling.

I've often said that the 80s passed me by in a blur. I was a young mom, in the middle of the busy years of bedtime stories, baths, lunches, hair combing, laundry, cuddles, cleaning, playing Barbie with "the voice."

But somehow the music was still a part of my life as it had always been.

One time my Sarah Bella had some little friends over. I think she was six or seven? I got them set up to play and made my exit, moving into the kitchen to do whatever it was that consumed my days then. I had the radio on and I was singing away and dancing in the kitchen. All the kidlets ran into the kitchen to sing and dance away with me. I thought, "cool! I can be a fun mom"!

The next day Sarah begged me to never, ever sing and dance in front of her friends again. Ha! She was MORTIFIED! Just goes to show you how delusional we all can be.

I remember another time when my youngest was, maybe, 15. My wasband and I were having a New Year's Eve party and we were part way into the party. Enough into it that my best bud, Reechie, and I were on our way to delusional.

She and I were dancing away in the family room in front of a large sliding glass door. We thought we were lovely visions of coolness. Hard rockin' momma's with style and endless moves.

We did not know that Lorenzo and her band of miscreants were outside of the door laughing their little arses off at our "cool moves."

So it goes.

Who cares right? If WE think we have moves, then by all that is right, we DO have cool moves.

I know in reality I look like Elaine Benes from Seinfeld, but in my mind's eye I am hot and sexy, moving like a rock-goddess.

Rock on little mommas and papas!

Please Don't Call on Me!

The Scene
Class

I am sitting, as my middle-class, Lutheran, upbringing would have it, near the back, on the end. Not too far back, not too far in the front.

Instructor is lecturing, I am taking notes, I am understanding. Look how convincing I am! I even convince myself! Aaaaaaamaaaaaaziiiing!

He pulls out something that suspiciously looks like a testing board. He keeps calling it a "pretest," but by now my brain has stopped working.

Did he use the word "test"? OMfriggin'G.

I am sweating, I am palpitating. I am flunking.

Oh - that can't be true. I got my name right, although I am pretty certain I forgot to put in my student ID number.

When Pup comes home I tell him about the test. We look at it together. He looks at my notes. He points out how I was actually writing down stuff that was on the test paper.

"I did"?

"Yeah. baby, it's all right here. Look. Assets Value = Liabilities + Equity. You even wrote it down twice."

"I did"?

"Yeah."

"Me?"

"Yeah. Okay, now look at this question - what are the parts of business activity"?

"Uh . . ."

"Sweetie! You wrote it down"!

:::moaning:::

"Can you text me during the real test"?

We both bust out laughing.

Pup asks me, "What DO you remember from class"?

Me, "Well, the woman in front of me needed her roots done."

"Really? You noticed that"?

"Yeah! And I noticed I was the only one in there that was left-handed."

Pup lets out a huge sigh. "Good thing you live with me."

I nod in agreement.


I mean - who goes into a financial accounting class without her highlighter and calculator?? Who?

The instructor did say it could take some of us a time or two for all of this to start to sink in. I believe I might be one of those people.

Meanwhile, I made additional notes to bring in my camera to capture campus fashion. Is this bad?

Over and Over and Over

My family and I were discussing our favorite movies and the movies we could watch over and over. Everyone has one. Pulp Fiction might be at the top of the list for me. This being one of my favorite scenes in the movie.

Also, how hot was Bruce Willis in this movie? An arse like a round, hard apple . . . oh! I think I went to my happy place for a minute. Apologies . . .

A few others thrown around that day were, The Usual Suspects, Caddyshack, Gone with the Wind, Goodfellas, Thomas Crown Affair.

What is yours?