Monday, December 27, 2004
Too much Christmas maybe. Everyone was sniffling. Everyone was trying to hide those sniffles. I saw them sneaking around the corner to blow their noses, stifling the coughs. I saw them sneaking the cough drops out of the hanging basket in the kitchen. So I am not the only one. At least no one can say I gave it to them.
I never got out the Christmas cards. I have printed out New Years cards. Wonder if I'll get around to mailing them.
Sniff sniff...sneeze sneeze... thought I'd catch up here but changing my mind... going back to bed.
Monday, December 20, 2004
So here it is Monday and I'm realizing that there are only five days left til the big day. The Christmas parties with friends are over (except for SH's company dinner tonite) and it's time to concentrate on the family parties. I haven't shopped. Haven't bought one item for any family member. Don't have a Christmas tree and now it looks like we might not get one. Haven't sent out Christmas cards... my printer jammed up this weekend and won't take cardstock anymore and I'm not going to go out and buy another printer just to print cards. Maybe I'll send out New Years cards. Maybe I won't. I haven't made Christmas cookies. Heck, I haven't even figured out who is going where on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day.
Yesterday was the day that I was supposed to catch up on all this stuff. But I got distracted. I decided I needed to go to church. I needed to hear that big pipe organ and a choir full of Christmas Carols and a twenty minute sermon about why we celebrate this season. On the way out the door the preacher looks at me, "should I know you?" he asks. I remember what Dad used to say about people like me who show up twice a year, Christmas and Easter. I'm guilty. I shake the preachers hand and mutter somewhat of an apology for being one of those who shows up only a couple of times a year.
Reading through the bulletin, I saw they were having a Christmas concert that afternoon. I could use that I thought. I need some good old fashioned Christmas carole kind of joy. Then I see the agenda is Magnificat. I'm not sure what that is but it sounds to heavy so I change my mind.
My sister says she's going to Fairyland with a friend to see Santa. So I get distracted and figure it would be good to take my grandson to Fairyland too. Little J is all excited and runs up the clocktower, careens down the slide, slips down into Jonah's belly, and races through Alice in Wonderland's tunnel. We ride the train. I watch him, remembering my own trip through Fairyland fifty years ago, delighted to see that some things have not changed.
Little J eats his free cookie instead of decorating it first. We keep looking for Santa. We keep missing him. Finally we find out that Santa is seeing children in the Chapel. We get there only to find out that Santa is on a break. It seems he can't work through his four hour volunteer shift without having a lunch break... we find him at the snack stand, beard askew, leisurely fortifying his belly with a hamburger and fries. While our clock is ticking forward, the Fairyland clock ticks backwards. But we must move on. We have two parties to go to and this was not on the agenda.
We made it to one party. We had to skip the second one. It's my fault. I got distracted. I went to church. I went to Fairyland. And I watched that sappy Hallmark movie.
Little J gets up early this morning and follows me around as I'm hurrying through my morning routine. I'm rushing to the door at 7:58 to make the two minute walk to work. Little J grabs my hand. I bend down for a bear gripping hug and then pry his fingers away and try to distract him, sending him away to chase the cats. My tears well up as I hear his shrieks behind the door. I want to stay home and play with Little J, go see Santa, bake cookies, buy and wrap gifts, put up a tree.
So what's the message here? Hmmmm maybe I still don't get it. Christmas is five days away. I must work four of those days. I have two evenings already filled with commitments. That leaves two evenings for shopping, wrapping, eating the cookies that others baked and... distractions. Does it really matter if any of it gets done? And why am I sitting here writing this? Cause I'm distracted.
Thursday, December 16, 2004
She suggests ARTivities each month. Here is December.
ARTivities: Three of Everything
1. Write about three gains you made in 2004.
7.6 pounds of new granddaughter
10+ pounds more of husband
10 pounds more of me - yikes
2. Write about three losses you've had in 2004.
Two good friends
3. Write about three big mistakes you made in 2004.
Spending too much money
4. Write about three good choices you made in 2004.
Taking memoir class with Linda Joy Myers
Going to Dallas for Red Hat Convention
Visiting friends in Anacortes
5. Write about three books you enjoyed in 2004.
Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides
In Search of Grace: A Journey Across America's Landscape of Faith by Kristin Hahn
The Spiral Staircase by Karen Armstrong
6. Write about three I2W classes you'd like to take 2005.
As much as I would love to take these classes, which all start on January 10th, I know I can't possibly sign up for all three. Maybe I will manage to do one of them.
Writing our Lives: About the Writer
The Write Approach
Writing and Photography - Penny J. Leisch
7. Write about three books you'd like to get this holiday.
Bobbed Hair and Bathtub Gin: Writers Running Wild in the Twenties by Marion Meade
Runaway by Alice Munro
The Falls: A Novel by Joyce Carol Oates
8. Write about three holiday gift wishes you have.
A Merry Christmas family
A Merry Christmas for friends
Fun, not stuff
9. Write about three wishes you have for 2005.
10. Write about three goals you intend to reach in 2005.
Lose that 10 pounds I gained in 2004
Walk twice as many miles as I did this year
Save twice as much money as I did this year
Monday, December 13, 2004
I get to the office early, with my kind of thinking that I'll just get this over with and be on with the day. There's a sign on the counter,"Have a seat while we have our morning meeting." So I sit and leaf through the six month old travelers digest magazines reading about all the places that I think only my dentist can afford to go to. Did I mention that I have prepaid my bill so I don't have to worry about it next year?
Half way through the second dogbitten magazine I get called into the chair. I ease my way into it, once I figure out how to get around the butt grabbing arm. "congratulations," my dentists says as I sit myself down.
"Huh?" I look at him leeringly.
"You're the first person to sit in my new chair. Comfy?" He smiles.
"Oh sure. It's great."
"Mind if I give you a little pre-numbing medication?" Like I would say no. Not. The chair lurches as he steps on his shiny new pedal and I careen halfway to the ceiling. "Oops, sorry. New equipment." I reach around behind my neck... just checking for a whiplash. "Just a pinch now. Three. Two. One." My upper lip now closes in on my left nostril. "I'll be back in just a couple of minutes." Before I can close my mouth he steps on the shiny pedal once again and I'm lurched back down to the floor.
Okay, I'm going to make a long story short now. He comes back in, eases into his stool, and with calculated movement, gracefully raises my chair up into the glaring light. It's a new light. "How do you like my new light," my dentist asks has he starts to stuff my mouth full of cotton. I squint. His assistant offers me sunglasses. I point out that I am already wearing my own glasses, and they happen to be tinted. I close my eyes as I catch the drill coming around from behind.
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ. "I need water," the dentist looks as his assistant. ZZZZZZZZZZZ. "Can we have water?" he asks again. ZZZZ.... he stands up and sets the drill aside. "Call the repair man," he whispers to his assistant. Meanwhile he gets down on his hands and knees and nonchalantly grabs a couple of dental instruments to pry open the equipment access door. The receptionist comes in to tell him it will be at least an hour before they can come and look at it. He tinkers around a bit, tosses his tools aside and says, "prep for a bondo" to his assistant.
I'm thinking I don't need water. Just drill and fill like the old days. All I want to do is get out of here and back to work. Imagine that... wanting to be at work. But it's not going to work that way. The dentist returns to his stool, thankfully with new gloves and a new tray of instruments. "I'm really sorry. We are going to have to bondo the tooth and have you return on another day."
I smell the bondo and can't help thinking about my recent experience with superglue. I picture leaving with my teeth glued to my tongue. Fortunately he is not as clumsy as I so within a couple of minutes I'm jumping out of the chair, setting up a time to come back on Wednesday and just ready to walk out the door. "Wait," the dentist says. "I have something for you." He hands me a Starbucks coffee card. "Treat yourself."
With stiff, numb upper lip and a tinge of bondo taste still lingering, I consider the coffee card as I get into my car. I don't think so.
Saturday, December 11, 2004
Tuesday, December 07, 2004
So now I'm going to rant about another holiday peeve. Nowadays if you want to hear Christmas carols (at least where I live), you must pay.
Churches and schools collect anywhere from $10 to $50, and sometimes more, to hear their Christmas concerts. These are not concerts performed by professional artists. These are concerts with ordinary church choirs and schoolkid chorus groups. I know these institutions have lights by pay and choir garments to buy. But hey, this is Christmas. It's a time for sharing. I don't mind giving a voluntary commitment to support the effort but I don't think people should be turned away from a little Christmas ear spirit due to lack of funds.
It's bad enough that Christmas has been commercialized to the point that many families are burdened with holiday credit card debt half way into the new year. Let's not extend their debt yet another month or two so they can hear little Johnny perform at school or church.
On another note... why is it that those young fortunates with brand new convertibles and big stereo systems can pump their every-other-word-is-f*** rap music up full blast and drive around Union Square without a permit? Oh that's right... they aren't organized.
Thursday, December 02, 2004
The kid in me wants to rebel. I could hoc my house and rent a storefront just for the month of December. Smack in the middle of the main drag.
First thing, I’d place one of those big ugly Santa balloons on the rooftop. Might as well direct a spotlight on him too. Put Rudolph right up there next to him and be sure to light up his big red nose. Stick old Frosty the Snow Man up there while I’m at it… maybe I could light up his carrot nose a bright orange and give him a glowing fluorescent green scarf.
Next I’d find the biggest and ugliest artificial green tree to place in the center of my display window. It would be buried under several dozen strings of colored lights, not the little twinkly lights they sell these days but the big old fashioned egg sized ones that burn hot and bright. Top it off with a good smoothering of icycles and silver garlands to help reflect the color.
There will be a backdrop of sparkly gold stars against a royal blue sky perhaps edged with red and white candy cane lights.
Under the tree little toy trains, the electric kind, all the cars painted bright red and green, would cycle through blinking red and green signal lights glowing against cotton balls of snow.
A trio of Christmas carolers would stand next to the tree, each brightly illuminated to show off their colorful clothes from hat to boots. I’ll string a band of fluorescent blue notes above their heads.
They make everything to light up these days. Maybe I could find some bright red poinsettia plant lights to place under the windows decked with boughs of green holly, entwined with shiny red jingle bells.
Lest anyone might miss this most colorful display, I’d have a sandwich board sign in the middle of the sidewalk with blatant red and green neon lights of flashing arrows.
And when the powers that be show up, I’d have an extra special treat for them…
right over my lily white rear end there would be one tiny little sprig of mistletoe.
Wednesday, December 01, 2004
Remember that crazy toy that went haywire on Halloween? It resided in the refrigerator for the past couple of weeks. JJ removed it last night. It's still going and going and going. I'm thinking there's a bunny trapped inside there, one that's been energized.
I'm wondering: If the toy gets energized in the fridge, why am I not energized from the freezing cold merry go round ride?
I did the dreaded grocery shopping tonight. I usually don't shop. I send hubby. Remembered why I don't shop. There was this annoying lady. Somehow she managed to show up in each aisle placing her cart kind of sideways across the aisle in front of me, then stepping back to peruse all the labels. She was one of those idiots who leaves her purse in the basket, gaping open, ready for someone to come along and... well you know. As much as I was tempted to teach her a lesson and as much as I wanted to run smack over her with my cart full of cookies and toilet paper, I controlled myself. It's probably a good thing.
Sunday, November 28, 2004
Saturday, November 27, 2004
Wednesday, November 24, 2004
Okay, so now I was awake. My fingers thawed out about noon. I processed a few more words. Nanowrimo count is now 43,538 words! 6 days left. Think I'm gonna make it.
Monday, November 22, 2004
Sunday, November 21, 2004
Heck I knew what kind of blogger I am - this just confirms it.
You Are a Life Blogger!
Your blog is the story of your life - a living diary.
If it happens, you blog it. And make it as entertaining as possible.
Saturday, November 20, 2004
Been Writing. Been writing up a storm. Nanowrimo... I now have 39144 words. I'm going to make it!
Now it's time for a break. Haven't done Unconscious Mutterings for a while so here goes:
- Reconnect:: disconnect
- Gearshiift:: handle... gosh I never could figure out how to drive one of those cars
- Mania:: games
- Manhattan:: Transfer
- First date:: yuck... well it wasn't that bad
- District:: attorney... you can tell where i've been right?
- Yearbook:: blues
- Breakup:: blues... oh oh does this say something about me?
- Episode:: one
- Costume:: party
Had an indian summer kind of day today. Now the wind is blowing over the patio furniture.
Friday, November 19, 2004
Hmmmmm, perhaps I'll be visiting a jeweler tomorrow.
Nanowrimo.... just over 36,000 words. 14,000 left in 10 days???? Maybe.
Don't have to cook a turkey this thanksgiving. Just have to show up with dessert. Can you imagine what would happen if inept little old me baked a pumpkin pie? A little pumpkin...a bit of cinnamon... super glue....
Monday, November 15, 2004
Sunday, November 14, 2004
The toy has now gone completely haywire.
It is quiet most of the day and then in the middle of the night it starts its whoopees, whirling, dinging and donging.
Last nite I had enough.
I kicked SH out of bed and said, "do something with it will ya."
No more noise.
And then I got up this morning to have breakfast...
Wednesday, November 10, 2004
I am tempted to check with DMV but here's the deal: Lady I'll give you one more chance.... if you happen to be reading this and you are the red hatter who thinks I am a b*tch, I want to know what I did wrong. You could at least give me the courtesy to make amends if I did something to offend you.
Sunday, November 07, 2004
Saturday, November 06, 2004
First thing this morning I had to read the paper. Well not one paper, two. On weekends I get two papers, The Times and The Chronicle. For over 40 years I have eaten breakfast balancing my cereal bowl over the news every morning. That's right, the habit started when I was a teenager.
There was a quiz in the morning's paper. What Color are Hue? So I took it. Turns out my first color is green. Hmmm, never really liked green all that much but I do like money, that's green. According to the article green means I am confident, caring, and centered in a room washed with sage, basil or apple green... don't think so. I mark my territory with collections of pottery, trinkets of vintage table clothes... no, they look more like kitty icons to me. Turns out I should use more green... it refreshes the spirit and promotes health.
Would have been a more believable quiz had my color turned out to be blue. Mom made me wear blue all the time when I was a kid. She said it was my color. Must match my eyes, even my first pair of eyeglasses was light blue. Now I find out blue people strive to feel safe in their surroundings and their dependable and truthful natures feel most at ease in rooms of gray-blue and soft turquoise. Use blue to promote calm. I could use a little of that.
BUT the 2nd color for me is PURPLE. Yeah. I knew that. Why else would I be a queen of the Red Hat Society. I live in purple... well some of the time I do. And then I find out I'm supposedly reading tarot cards and eating tofu. NOT. Gave those up years ago. People use the color to seek spirituality and enlightenment. Hmmmm, that's what's missing? Hey I kind of like the next sentiment: Dieters should use purple to suppress appetite... I should be skinny shouldn't I?
Ok enough playing with words. Got my nanowrimo bumper badge in mail today. Must go process another 1500 words.
Wednesday, November 03, 2004
Election results....win some/lose some...no comment other than I cancelled out my big brother and he is the winner (as always).
Monday, November 01, 2004
Sunday, October 31, 2004
5:15 am: The noise again. This time I recognize it as one of Little J's Sesame Street toys. I figure one of the cats jumped in the toy basket and set it off.
A few minutes later: The noise again. But both cats are sleeping on the foot of my bed. So I get up. Dig through the toy box and find the blinking toy. Hmmmm. I toss the toy onto the sofa and it retaliates with yet another cacophonic outburst.
I just get back in bed and it sounds again. I figure it will stop. No such luck. Every few minutes I hear that obnoxious calling. I'm tempted to put it out on the back deck to get even with the neighbor's dog yapping. But it's cold outside. So I settle back in bed with head under pillow and sleep sound until 9am.
9:00 am: I awaken to the sound again. Whoooopeeeee! Sounds like spaceship has landed in living room. On the way to the bathroom I see red and yellow lights flash across the room.
Ok I think. It's Halloween. The place is haunted. My imagination starts going in all directions. Ghosts. Goblins. Ghouls.
Then I remember. I remember how annoying it is when the smoke alarm batteries get weak and send out those whining reminders every so often. I can understand the necessity for these warnings on a smoke alarm. But on a toddler toy? Give me a break.
Happy Haunting Halloween to all!
Saturday, October 30, 2004
No I'm not giving up. I got my Nanowrimo tote bag in the mail today. Need manuscript to put in it. Didn't order t-shirt this year cause t-shirt drawer is too full.
No I'm not giving up. I just set up another blog just for nanowrimo. That way I can write from any computer, any time (nah, I'm not going to write it at work...really).
Will I let anyone read that blog? Doubtful.
Okay, just a little over 24 hours left before Nanowrimo begins. I better get some sunshine... quick... the days will be shorter tomorrow thanks to daylight savings time changes. Okay not shorter - just seems that way since it will be dark when I get home from work.
Friday, October 29, 2004
Looking ahead, Nanowrimo starts in 2 days. Still wondering how I can write 50,000 words, babysit Little J, visit with Baby I, do 3 red hat events, keep up with Pilates and work too. Yikes, even the refrigerator and cupboards are bare.... have to find time to do shopping... stock up on quick meals.
Something tells me that something has to give. Gosh, and I really wanted to write that novel.... hmmmmm could do that at work.... don't tell the boss. Hey, Jeff... you don't read this do ya? I wouldn't do that. Honest.
It's winter. Cold. Damp. Aching back comes with it. And of course I can't take that medication that worked so well. Doc took that away from me after my ER scare.... just days before it was decided no one should take that drug. Ah well. I won't be the only one suffering.
Tis late.... spent 6 hours at hospital waiting for baby to be discharged. I'm off to bed.
Wednesday, October 27, 2004
Saturday, October 23, 2004
'Tis a great mystery, but somehow you have come to
belong in Jane Eyre; a random world of love,
kindness, madness, bad luck and lunatic
ex-wives. There really isn't much to say about
the place you belong in. It's your place, and
though it seems far from reality largly due to
how random the events are, you seem to enjoy
it. You belong in a world where not too many
people understand you, and where you can be
somewhat of a recluse.
Which Classic Novel do You Belong In?
brought to you byQuizilla
On another note, it seems my inner critique is getting in the way of my writing. Been told to write about that. Will see.
Saturday, October 16, 2004
Other stuff... back to weight watchers again. Must take off that 10 pounds that creeped back on once again. Weighed in this morning... 1.4 pounds less than last month. It's a start.
FEAR: heard today... it's the reaction to an apprehension. Beats the pre-12 step F*ck Everything And Run process.
Sunday, October 10, 2004
I did have some fun this week. Went to see Dame Edna with some red hat friends. Interesting but will never compete with the original Finnocio's.
Had some sadness this week too. Dear friend died of breast cancer after a long grueling struggle. She was a young 64.
Yesterday I take sneezin, sniffin, coughin (yes I gave it to him) Little J to Target in search of a new sleeping arrangement. We looked at the blow up sleeping bags with Scooby Doo first of all. Decided against it for two reasons... it is made for kids 3 and over and the cats would pop it within a day. We were just about to give up when I spotted Tigger sofabeds on sale. It seemed a perfect solution.
Got back to apartment, struggled from the car with Little J under one arm and the sofabed under the other. Put the sofabed down in the middle of the living room floor. Put Little J down. First thing he does is go for the phone, plops down on the sofabed and starts a intense conversation with someone's answering machine. Now I wonder where he got that from? (Hint: not me... I rarely talk on the phone).
By this time it is way past nap time so we begin the drill. I show Little J how to unfold the sofa. He bounces up and down a couple of times and folds it back up. I get his blanket and unfold the sofa. Little J tosses the blanket aside and folds up the sofa. I get his Barney doll, unfold the sofa and place Barney in bed with blanket. Little J tosses the blanket aside, folds up the sofa and sits down with Barney by his side. He's rubbing his eyes, snot is running down his nose, and he gives me the stubborn-I'm-not-going-to-take-a-nap-now look. I give in and put him on my bed. He's asleep within two minutes. I sneak out of the bedroom to find Minnie Kitty curled up in Little J's new bed. Well, at least someone knows what it's for.
Off to baby shower now.... gonna be a grandma again.... soon.
Thursday, September 30, 2004
Tuesday, September 28, 2004
Sunday, September 26, 2004
But I didn't stop there. Just had to have a new sweater to wear next weekend to the Red Hat Razzle Dazzle in Sacramento. Had to use that 10% off coupon that was in the paper this morning. Just had to do it.
Wouldn't you know, my favorite underwear was on sale too. Just in time. I'll spare the details. I just had to do it.
Saturday, September 25, 2004
01. Bought everyone in the pub a drink
02. Swam with wild dolphins
03. Climbed a mountain
04. Taken a Ferrari for a test drive
05. Been inside the Great Pyramid
06. Held a tarantula.
07. Taken a candlelit bath with someone
08. Said 'I love you' and meant it
09. Hugged a tree
10. Done a striptease
11. Bungee jumped
12. Visited Paris
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea
14. Stayed up all night long, and watch the sun rise
15. Seen the Northern Lights
16. Gone to a huge sports game
17. Walked the stairs to the top of the leaning Tower of Pisa
18. Grown and eaten your own vegetables
19. Touched an iceberg
20. Slept under the stars
21. Changed a baby's diaper
22. Taken a trip in a hot air balloon
23. Watched a meteor shower
24. Gotten drunk on champagne
25. Given more than you can afford to charity
26. Looked up at the night sky through a telescope
27. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment
28. Had a food fight
29. Bet on a winning horse
30. Taken a sick day when you're not ill
31. Asked out a stranger
32. Had a snowball fight
33. Photocopied your bottom on the office photocopier
34. Screamed as loudly as you possibly can
35. Held a lamb
36. Enacted a favorite fantasy
37. Taken a midnight skinny dip
38. Taken an ice cold bath
39. Had a meaningful conversation with a beggar
40. Seen a total eclipse
41. Ridden a roller coaster
42. Hit a home run
43. Fit three weeks miraculously into three days
44. Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking
45. Adopted an accent for an entire day
46. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors
47. Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment
48. Had two hard drives for your computer.
49. Visited all 50 states
50. Loved your job for all accounts
51. Taken care of someone who was shit faced
52. Had enough money to be truly satisfied
53. Had amazing friends
54. Danced with a stranger in a foreign country
55. Watched wild whales
56. Stolen a sign
57. Backpacked in Europe
58. Taken a road-trip
59. Rock climbing
60. Lied to foreign government's official in that country to avoid notice
61. Midnight walk on the beach
62. Sky diving
63. Visited Ireland
64. Been heartbroken longer then you were actually in love
65. In a restaurant, sat at a stranger's table and had a meal with them
66. Visited Japan
67. Benchpressed your own weight
68. Milked a cow
69. Alphabetized your records
70. Pretended to be a superhero
71. Sung karaoke
72. Lounged around in bed all day
73. Posed nude in front of strangers
74. Scuba diving
75. Got it on to "Let's Get It On" by Marvin Gaye
76. Kissed in the rain
77. Played in the mud
78. Played in the rain
79. Gone to a drive-in theater
80. Done something you should regret, but don't regret it.
81. Visited the Great Wall of China
82. Discovered that someone who's not supposed to have known about your blog has discovered your blog
83. Dropped Windows in favor of something better
84. Started a business
85. Fallen in love and not had your heart broken
86. Toured ancient sites
87. Taken a martial arts class8
8. Swordfought for the honor of a woman
89. Played D&D for more than 6 hours straight
90. Gotten married
91. Been in a movie
92. Crashed a party
93. Loved someone you shouldn't have
94. Kissed someone so passionately it made them dizzy
95. Gotten divorced
96. Had sex at the office
97. Gone without food for 5 days
98. Made cookies from scratch
99. Won first prize in a costume contest
100. Ridden a gondola in Venice
101. Gotten a tattoo
102. Found that the texture of some materials can turn you on
103. Rafted the Snake River
104. Been on television news programs as an "expert"
105. Got flowers for no reason
106. Masturbated in a public place
107. Got so drunk you don't remember anything
108. Been addicted to some form of illegal drug
109. Performed on stage
110. Been to Las Vegas
111. Recorded music
112. Eaten shark
113. Had a one-night stand
114. Gone to Thailand
115. Seen Siouxsie live
116. Bought a house
117. Been in a combat zone
118. Buried one/both of your parents
119. Shaved or waxed your pubic hair off
120. Been on a cruise ship
121. Spoken more than one language fluently
122. Gotten into a fight while attempting to defend someone
123. Bounced a check
124. Performed in Rocky Horror
125. Read - and understood - your credit report
126. Raised children
127. Recently bought and played with a favorite childhood toy
128. Followed your favorite band/singer on tour
129. Created and named your own constellation of stars
130. Taken an exotic bicycle tour in a foreign country
131. Found out something significant that your ancestors did
132. Called or written your Congress person
133. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over
134. ...more than once? - More than thrice?
135. Walked the Golden Gate Bridge
136. Sang loudly in the car, and didn't stop when you knew someone was looking
137. Had an abortion or your female partner did
138. Had plastic surgery
139. Survived an accident that you shouldn't have survived.
140. Wrote articles for a large publication
141. Lost over 100 pounds
142. Held someone while they were having a flashback
143. Piloted an airplane
144. Petted a stingray
145. Broken someone's heart
146. Helped an animal give birth
147. Been fired or laid off from a job
148. Won money on a T.V. game show
149. Broken a bone
150. Killed a human being
151. Gone on an African photo safari
152. Ridden a motorcycle
153. Driven any land vehicle at a speed of greater than 100mph
154. Had a body part of yours below the neck pierced
115. Fired a rifle, shotgun, or pistol
156. Eaten mushrooms that were gathered in the wild
157. Ridden a horse
158. Had major surgery
159. Had sex on a moving train
160. Had a snake as a pet
161. Hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon
162. Slept through an entire flight: takeoff, flight, and landing
163. Slept for more than 30 hours over the course of 48 hours
164. Visited more foreign countries than U.S. states
165. Visited all 7 continents
166. Taken a canoe trip that lasted more than 2 days
167. Eaten kangaroo meat
168. Fallen in love at an ancient Mayan burial ground
169. Been a sperm or egg donor
170. Eaten sushi
171. Had your picture in the newspaper
172. Had 2 (or more) healthy romantic relationships for over a year in your lifetime
173. Changed someone's mind about something you care deeply about
174. Gotten someone fired for their actions
175. Gone back to school
177. Changed your name
178. Petted a cockroach
179. Eaten fried green tomatoes
180. Read The Iliad
181. Selected one "important" author who you missed in school, and read,
182. Dined in a restaurant and stolen silverware, plates, cups because your apartment needed them.
183. ...and gotten 86'ed from the restaurant because you did it so many times, they figured out it was you
184. Taught yourself an art from scratch
185. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
186. Apologized to someone years after inflicting the hurt
187. Skipped all your school reunions.
188. Communicated with someone without sharing a common spoken language
189. Been elected to public office
190. Written your own computer language
191. Thought to yourself that you're living your dream
192. Had to put someone you love into hospice care
193. Built your own PC from parts
194. Sold your own artwork to someone who didn't know you
195. Had a booth at a street fair
196: Dyed your hair
197: Been a DJ198: Found out someone was going to dump you via LiveJournal
199: Written your own role playing game
200: Been arrested
Found out why I suffered from chest pains a couple of weeks ago. They were sympathy pains. Big brother was suffering from chest pains and ended up having some "arterial" work. Hey big brother.... didn't I tell you to eat your oat bran?
OK... I'm going to hide for a while. Just in case they seek revenge.
Wednesday, September 22, 2004
I was greeted by an elderly man, whom I will call Bob. Since there were only three other people there, all female, it was safe to assume that Bob would be our instructor. One of the women turned out to be the author's wife, the other two were a mother and daughter team.
The five us gathered around a small table in the back of a used bookstore, surrounded by ceiling high shelves of musty old books. On the table were a few books about writing, publishing, and grammar as well as a few self-published (vanity press) books by our author friend and his wife.
After a short introduction Bob hands us a lesson sheet. First on the agenda, draw a footprint of the house where you grew up. "Which one?" I ask. "There must have been at least eight of them."
"Pick any one. It doesn't matter for this exercise." He says.
And so I start to draw the plans for our old farmhouse in Marne. That is, I draw the layout of the first floor including the location of the stairs. Bob announces "Time's up."
We go around the table and talk about what memories have surfaced with these drawings. I say, "I fell down those stairs once, the milkman came to the kitchen door every week and gave me a small plastic charm, and I can't remember anything about the upstairs except that I had a small room on the right side of the staircase."
Bob says, "that's okay. You will remember as you write your memoir." I wonder if that's a guarantee.
Bob gives us a few more suggestions about writing, explains print on demand and vanity publishing, reads the first chapter from his memoir and then thanks us for coming.
I leave thinking... I'm not sure what Bob's 5 easy steps are.I think I have written more than anyone else who was there. Anyone can publish anything if they have enough money.Why bother?
I get home and dig out every piece of my writing that I can find including all my old journals, weblogs, Themestream articles, and college essays. Three hours later I have weeded out all the things that are fiction or detrimental to other's well being if published. I end up with 52 pages, completely boring. Why bother?
Sunday, September 12, 2004
Saturday, September 11, 2004
I am MZ and I am a Fanataneatisolic. I absolutely must have everything and everyone in its or their place at all times. Nothing out of order. Not a speck on the wall or floor. This chair I am sitting in tonight is reserved for me. No one in this meeting would dare to take my place. Third chair from the right in the 2nd row every Tuesday, rain or shine, holiday, birthday, anniversary, it doesn't matter. This program has saved my life.
I'm here to share my experience, strength and hope so here it goes.
I got married at a young age, only 20. But it was the thing to do. I wanted to be just like Mom. Get married, have kids, be a housewife. It didn't exactly work out that way.
I got married and got a husband who threw his dirty clothes on the bedroom floor every night. And, every morning I promptly picked them up and deposited them into the hamper. His hamper, not mine. No way I could make it to the bathroom or coffee pot without picking up that stuff. Straightening the bathroom towels, seeing the toilet paper was hanging exactly one inch from the bottom of the roll, putting the cap on the toothpaste and lining up the toothbrushes were automatic pilot tasks. Then the coffee, beans ground perfectly fine, filter placed with wrinkles evenly distributed, matching coffee mugs. Exhausted before I even dressed for work.
Then one day I couldn't do it anymore. I left the clothes on the floor and marched into the bathroom. It was all I could do not to pick them up. The piles got taller each day. By laundry day, I had to climb over the massive piles with my own personal laundry hamper to make my way to the washer. Result: very upset husband that his laundry didn't make it into the laundry room. The next week he picked up his clothes.
Gradually I gave up the other habits, letting things fall wherever. It drove me to near complete insanity, to the point that I had to wear imaginary blinders when I walked through the house. I absolutely couldn't stand to be within those walls anymore. I needed help. You can't change others, only yourself. So today I sit in this chair. I follow the twelve steps.
1. I admitted I was powerless over the misplaced items and my life had become unmanageable.
2. I came to believe that a higher power could help me
3. I made a decision to let him
4. I stomped all over the inventory (misplaced items)
5. I called charitable organizations to pick up the inventory
6. I humbly asked for less stuff
7. I got less stuff
8. I made a list of stuff I walked all over
9. I promised not to do it again
10. Today I do these things every day
11. I consciously walk over the stuff
12. I tell others that I don't care where they throw their stuff
And now some promises are coming true. I have less stuff and more money. I live alone so whatever stuff there is, happens to be my own stuff. I don't fear tripping over stuff anymore. I intuitively know to stay away from other peoples stuff. I'm not baffled, just alone. Is this an extravagance? I think not. It's exactly what I asked for.
When the basket comes around, kindly place your clean, crisp one dollar bills in an even stack with the "In God We Trust" side up.
Keep coming back but don't you dare sit in this chair, the third chair from the right in the second row. It's mine...
I hate it when I open my big mouth and tell someone something I should just keep to myself. Not those things I say in meetings. That is where those kinds of things are meant to be shared. I mean the things I talk about like gossip. Gossiping about other people and then turning around and gossiping about those people to someone else. Perhaps it's not really gossiping. Gossip is more of a rumor by my definition. But then the dictionary says it is also talk of a personal, sensational or intimate nature. Name for this behavior: RUMORIST
Next, why must I always arrive exactly on time? No one else is as prompt as I am. I end up waiting, wasting time. Well, is it as waste of time. Some say it is God's gift, a few moments to use perhaps in idle daydreaming. But instead I get angry. It's like the person that keeps me waiting doesn't think my time is as valuable as theirs. Name for this behavior: HURRY-UP-ANGER
Impatience is another one. I absolutely can't stand to be in line and have some idiot in front of me counting out pennies at the grocery store, perusing the entire menu at a fast food restaurant, making multiple transactions during lunch hour at the bank, pasting stamps on envelopes one by one at the postage counter instead of moving to the side table, reading the newspapers at the racks in my way, etc etc. All these moments. Like the hurry-up-anger behavior except that it's just people being in front of me probably unaware of their imposition. Name for this behavior: DISIMPOSTIONALISM
How about the having everything perfect behavior? Everything matching, clean, in order. Not a hair out of place. Clothes pressed and matched. Socks paired and sorted by color. Dishes that match. Silverware that matches, no stray spoons or forks. Complete sets or replace the entire set. No chips, cracks or discolorations for me. Towels that match bathroom rugs. Pillowcases much match sheets and go with the bed covers. Drawers and cabinets tightly shut. Blinds even. Shoes lined up in closet (well sometimes I don't do that). Perfectionism is too mild a word for this, so is compulsiveness. How about FANATANEATISHMENT.
Wednesday, September 08, 2004
The cardiologist says to me, "are you under any stress?" My response... "Isn't everyone?" Then he starts telling me all about the stress in his life. I should be a therapist. I should get paid for listening to him.
And do I feel any better. Not.
Tuesday, September 07, 2004
Saturday, September 04, 2004
It's sad. Summer is almost over. I know it's not officially over until Sept 22 at 11:30am CDT but it's Labor Day Weekend. It's the weekend I always spending dwelling on what I didn't do during the summer. I must remember that there is still time. And the good thing about it all is... kids are in school!
Just got the news. I've been accepting into a writing class!!! Starting next Friday. That's a good thing. I've been lazy about writing lately. Will be working with Linda Joy Myers. Well now I know what I'm doing with the rest of my day.... must gather together some of my stuff.
Thursday, September 02, 2004
Saturday, August 28, 2004
Tuesday, August 17, 2004
Tuesday, August 10, 2004
Shared pain is lessened
Shared joy is multiplied
Her site also helped to to discover a couple of valuable resources:
George W's blog way too funny, my current political stance is wavering.... hmmmm
The Onion more news think about
Monday, August 09, 2004
Note: Gray Davis is listed as the governor of California on the SSOHP site and he was undecided about making the Happy Day proclamation. I wonder what out current governor thinks.
Saturday, August 07, 2004
In the interest of not breaking anonymity, I'll just say, yes I do attend 12 step meetings. Those who know me well, know which program I follow.
I have printed The Promises below. It's partly for a selfish reason... so I can see them in print and consider how far I've come in the last 16 years, consider why some promises are slow to be fulfilled. The last line sums it up well. Tomorrow will be good for me. I've been slacking lately, becoming complacent, not working it. There. I have admitted it. That is the first step after all.
The Promises (from the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous)
If we are painstaking about this phase of our development, we will be amazed before we are half way through. We are going to know a new freedom and a new happiness. We will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it. We will comprehend the word serenity and we will know peace. No matter how far down the scale we have gone, we will see how our experience can benefit others. That feeling of uselessness and self-pity will disappear. We will lose interest in selfish things and gain interest in our fellows. Self-seeking will slip away. Our whole attitude and outlook upon life will change. Fear of people and of economic insecurity will leave us. We will intuitively know how to handle situations which used to baffle us. We will suddenly realize that God is doing for us what we could not do for ourselves.
Are these extravagant promises? We think not. They are being fulfilled among us - sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. They will always materialize if we work for them.
Thursday, August 05, 2004
Wednesday, August 04, 2004
I'm a Dodge Viper!
You're all about raw power. You're tough, you're loud, and you don't take crap from anyone. Leave finesse to the other cars, the ones eating your dust.
Take the Which Sports Car Are You? quiz.
Thanks Shirl ... I really needed to know that : )
Saturday, July 31, 2004
Thursday, July 22, 2004
I bought the Tungsten C because it had wireless capabilities, figuring that someday it would be cool to sit in Starbucks and check my email, download ebooks, upload my blog entries, etc. etc. Then I found out I'd have to fork over money to use the wireless service at Starbucks. So I did the next best thing...
I started to download programs, ending up spending more money on all the programs than I paid for the Tungsten C (never mind how much I paid for that but it's a lot less than my first $2000 desk sized monster 2 floppy 5 1/4" drive computer). And, now I can carry all my important stuff with me everyday, everywhere. Important stuff like...
- BART schedules...for the once or twice a month I ride BART
- Solitaire, Bubble Trouble and Word Pop...for when I'm stuck on BART, in doctors office, etc
- DateBk5...with all my important appointments, reminders and birthdays
- DietLog...so I won't eat too much cause it's such a p.i.t.a. to enter everything
- SlovoEd...dictionary/thesaurus that I can't live without
- SmartList...so I can keep all sorts of useless databases...conversions, passwords (if only I could remember password to get into them), grocery lists, medical records, packing lists, list of state flowers-flags-capitols-etc, red hatter info, etc etc
- Photos of grandkid
- Address book so I can send postcards and call people not listed on cellphone
- Email addresses so I can send email when I get wireless
- DocsToGo so I have files handy and can get work done and write stories
- EReader so I can finish reading DaVinci Code and I Am No One You Know
- Alarms so I can remember to do everything I need to do on Palm Pilot
Okay, now it's confession time. I couldn't stand it. I had to have wireless internet. So I got comcast (must put reminder on to do list to cancel aol). I unwired my apartment. Got access to internet in desktop, laptop AND palm pilot. Wooooooweeeeeee. But...
This morning I woke up at 5am, like I have been doing every morning this week. I didn't want to turn on the light and wake up snorting hog (SH). So I snuck off into the living room to retrieve my palm pilot from my purse (must put alarm on PP to remind myself to take it to bed from now on), snuck back into bed, turned on palm pilot, surfed until the batteries ran out. Meanwhile SH wanted attention. My response... "Sorry, I've got Palmpilotitis."
Sunday, July 18, 2004
Wednesday, July 14, 2004
In case you can't read the fine print it says "Babe In Total Control of Herself"
Friday, July 09, 2004
Subliminally aware that I must try to tackle the bathroom before the maid knocks, I sneak out of bed. I’m relieved as I toss back the covers; the spray on nylons are still on my legs, not the sheets.
My eyes adjust to the brightness of the lights in the entirely white bathroom. As I look around I wonder if I can sneak some cleaner off the maids cart when she’s not looking. Not a chance… they have learned how to position carts to cut down the pilfering of those coveted little toiletry bottles.
So I step into the shower stall armed with the already dirt marbled washcloth and a bottle of shampoo. First I shower in case the spray-on nylons come off and stain some more. Surprise… the color remains on my legs. Meanwhile yesterday’s stains have now dried into smudges so tough they are fingernail resistant. I have no choice. I’m so embarrassed.
As soon as everyone is dressed, we head out for breakfast. I’m hidden behind dark glasses and look the other direction when the maid notes our departure. Wanting to avoid the risk of seeing her after the fact, I note that I should not return until the maid has performed all duties on our floor. Fortunately she has done so by the time we get back.
I open the door fearful of the maid’s retribution. The bright bathroom lights are on. I look inside. Yes, the bathroom is clean. It’s remarkably clean.
And on the vanity counter…
A bottle of…
Industrial strength cleaner.
The next morning, I leave a $10 tip under the bottle.
The wedding goes without a hitch except… Bride and Groom get “hitched” by Rev. Bull #2, aka Auntie Marilyn, daughter of Rev. Bull #1. (I sense that Rev. Bull # 1 is probably twisting his spirits over the use of his preachers robe). The ceremony is successfully crammed into the allotted eight minutes chapel time.
Before the final chords of the processional are struck, the hotel photographer whisks everyone back into the chapel for his allotted 20 minute session. He’s well versed in stepping between anyone else’s cameras and the bride and groom just in the nick of time to prevent anyone from intruding in his business. I manage to catch a few shots, all of which include his shiny, baldhead.
All is well until the Mr. Photo Opt lines up bride and groom and both sets of parents and then insists all three couples kiss. After an uncomfortable resistance as the bride’s parents try to explain that they are divorced, and not on a friendly basis, the mandatory kisses are reluctantly performed. Mr. Photo Opt is oblivious.
So the wedding is a done and all is well. Time has come to move the party up to our room. People cram into our two bed, one sofa room just as I slam the bathroom door shut to hide my spray on nylon fiasco. Fifty hot, sweating, suffocating bodies raid the drink table, exhausting the short supply of ice. The AC is cranked to the top of the dial but it’s still hot enough to melt the whipped cream off the wedding cake. I take a couple of snapshots of bride and groom doing the cake thing and escape with JJ to the party sized bathroom. JJ tugs at his hot rayon shirt. I remove it. He dances around in his velvet shorts and bowtie like little Mr. Chippendale. I let him out into the crowd. He performs til the attention fades whereupon he throws via a full fledged, pre-two year old tantrum. It works. People start to leave.
Wednesday, June 30, 2004
I decide the best option would be to put JJ in the bathtub. No sooner is he in there, when the phone rings. No problem. This bathroom happens to have a phone in it. The call is the anxious bridesmaid asking for help zipping up the brides dress. I politely explain my situation and suggest she call the bride’s mother.
While I’m drying my hair, JJ learns how to turn on the faucet. I toss in a couple of paper coffee cups to distract him. This works long enough to finish drying my hair and apply one half of my face. Now I toss in the plastic soap dish figuring that would be good for a few extra minutes.
Not wanting to wear nylons in the Las Vegas heat and seeing that JJ is still entertained, I figure this would be a good opportunity to try out a new product I recently discovered - spray on nylons. So I step back in the shower stall. While keeping an eye on JJ, I evenly spray both legs, up and down, all around. Hmmm, looks good but perhaps a bit more would look better. So I spray again.
JJ has had enough of the bathtub now and is dumping soggy coffee cups of water all over the floor. His shriveled fingers indicate that he’s had plenty of time in the bathtub. As I wrap him in his towel, I notice my nude-beige footprints across the white tile. I utter a bemused “oh oh” which happens to be JJ’s favorite expression these days which triggers him to dance around the bathroom screeching “oh oh” at the top of his lungs. Now we have little footprints marching all over the big ones.
I get down on my shiny, polished knees with a fluffy white washcloth and try to clean up the mess. JJ, being the imitator that he is, does the same. I end up with two skin brown marbled rags and a floor that looks like a mudroom recently visited by rubber booted children returning from a mud pie party. So I dump a bit of shampoo on the floor and scrub until the prints fade into pale pinkish blobs. The shower door is still open. I look in there. The 4x4 white tiled cubicle now resembles the cage of an elephant with diarrhea. Meanwhile, hubby comes back (he’s been out playing slot machines) and announces that we have five minutes to get down to the wedding chapel. Before we get out the door the phone rings again. It’s our son, the groom, letting me know that the wedding cake will be arriving any minute and our room has been selected for the reception.
To be continued…
Monday, June 28, 2004
Approaching the security check-point with hastened steps, we screech to an abrupt stop at the end of a 10 rope line. JJ starts to kick the nice young couple in front of us. As we start to offer apologies, a special needs security guard motions for us to come over to his line. We are relieved to discover we are eligible for the express line due to our accompanying infant. Just ahead of us we see our son and his bride are also getting this special express service. We wonder if it’s because they are carrying a wedding gown or because the bride is obviously pregnant. I try to explain to the guard how JJ would be much more at ease through this transition if he could be left in the stroller. No way. So we hold up the line while we unbuckle the baby, remove him from stroller, and juggle our two carry-ons, all while attempting fit the not-so easy-to-collapse-umbrella stroller through the monitoring tunnel. We are thankful that we are not asked to remove our shoes.
By now JJ decides breakfast is long overdue. He kicks and screams while I try to strap him back into the stroller just as the overloaded diaper bag drops off my shoulder and whacks the stroller across the room. Of course hubby is too busy gathering together his carry-on and reclaiming his jacket to notice the stroller working it’s way down the sloped ramp. I scoop up JJ, who has now squirmed his way down to the floor, and catch the runaway stroller just before it slams into a young couple grappling with their own screaming toddler.
Next stop – breakfast. It looks like the easiest and safest bet is the most overpriced item on the menu board, a Frequent Flyer Croissant. I order two croissants, two coffees and orange juice while hubby wrestles baby from stroller to a high chair that he has dragged out from behind a computer geek who is so absorbed in his laptop that he can’t scoot his chair in even an inch to make things easier. Hubby and I exchange places. I try to amuse JJ with cheerios while hubby waits for our order. JJ is throwing cheerios at the computer geek (who still has not budged) by the time we get our food. I pick apart my soggy croissant offering the scrambled egg to JJ. He eats as if he hadn’t been fed in days and grabs the bottle of orange juice, pouring half of it down his new shirt before I get my first bite. Next thing I know, he’s dancing on top of the high chair making raspberry sounds at the computer geek, who still has not moved. I give up, wrap up what’s left of my breakfast, put screaming baby in stroller, and head to the waiting area. Hubby lags behind with both carry-ons.
We have an hour left before flight time. I eat the soggy and cold croissant as I chase JJ around, up and over the seats and tables, apologizing as we stumble over baggage and feet. The announcement for people with small children to board comes 20 minutes before flight time and to me it seems completely inept to load children on early, so I take JJ to the ladies room for a quick diaper change. I return him to hubby and go back to the ladies room wishing I hadn't gulped down all that coffee. Then I realize that I have not washed the sour milk out of JJ’s morning bottle so I head back to the ladies room once again with moments to spare as the final boarding call is announced.
And so we are on the plane. The plane does not move. There is some mumbling going on near the cockpit. A flight attendant picks up the phone, “sorry there will be a slight delay due to a mechanical problem.” JJ is bouncing back and forth across our laps, hubby scrunched in middle seat and me on the aisle, in coach seating. Son and his bride sit in their upgraded first class seats sipping free drinks (next time I’m going to carry on a bridal dress). After a 20 minute struggle, a flight attendant suggests that I run JJ up and down the ramp a few times. We get to run up and down for 40 minutes before it is decided that we can safely take off. JJ is now wound up and it takes half the flight to get him to sleep. He is not happy when we land, place him back in the stroller, and haul him around to collect baggage, get our hotel room keys, and arrange the rental car. He is not happy when we lift him, stroller and all, into the shuttle bus. He is not happy when we release him from the stroller and confine him to a car seat.
We arrive at Caesar’s. We miss the valet sign and end up in the self-parking section. It’s over 100 degrees and we have no luggage cart and must walk a quarter mile around construction zone. Once inside the cool casino, JJ perks up. His eyes widen, his arms swing, and his screams of delight are muted by din of slots, screeching winners and resounding music. He laughs at his image in the elevator mirror. At last we approach our room. We dump our luggage at the door and put the card key in the slot. There seems to be some commotion in the room. “Yikes” a young lady wails. It seems the room is already occupied.
To be continued.
Sunday, June 27, 2004
Sunday, June 20, 2004
Haven't done mutterings.bmp for a while. So here it is.
- Abundance:: simple
- Casino:: where i'll be in wednesday
- Shell:: oil
- Overpriced:: neiman marcus
- Cancellation:: waiver
- Eternal:: hope
- Lyrics:: songs
- Faith:: hope
- Because:: i said so
- Wimp:: hmmmmmm, rather not say
Monday, June 14, 2004
Friday, June 11, 2004
Wednesday, June 09, 2004
Tuesday, June 08, 2004
Not only do I want one of these, I love the artist's sentiment:
Let's give ourselves the courage to keep going when no one else believes in us.
The vision to be able to see past the fear to where beauty lies.
Passion for everything we do.
Truth in always listening to our inner selves and
possibilities because anything is possible if we really believe.
Let's give ourselves the gift of responsibility so we may have a say in our lives.
Monday, June 07, 2004
1. In your opinion, what is the perfect temperature?
70 degrees, sunny, slight breeze
2. If you have a garden, what do you plant in it? If not, what would you plant in it?
I planted a packet full of Nasturtium seeds. They sprouted. They are almost dead. If the Nasturtiums won't bloom for me, how could I be entrusted with any other living plant?
3. What is your favorite summertime beverage?
Tall glass of ice tea, lots of ice, slice of lemon. Pet peeve: being served ice tea with no ice.
4. How many times a year do you rearrange your living room?
Once, then I pay for it with a back ache that lasts 364 days.
5. How fast do you drive in a '55 mile-an-hour' zone?
55 unless there are no visible patrol cars.
6. How many minutes per day do you usually talk on the phone?
As little as possible. I never use up my cell phone minutes.
7. What is your favorite software program?
Anything that is on my palm pilot.
8. How many music cd's do you own?
About a dozen. I hate to pay for music.
9. How many memes do you participate in on a regular basis?
Lately, none. Got tired of them but now that I seem to be in sort of a brain fog, I might do some just to get going again.
10. Name 3 blogs that you have on your 'blogroll' list. (any 3.)
You pick three from my list. I'm having too much trouble making up my mind lately.
Tuesday, June 01, 2004
Thursday, May 27, 2004
Throughout my daily walks around town there are a number of characters, some of them quite eccentric, who cross my path. It’s almost as if I have my own personal Bay to Breakers experience right here in my own neighborhood, a mixture of those who blend in with the normalcy of our small town and a few who stand out in the crowd, whether they know it or not. Note, I know none of these people personally and any resemblance to anyone you know is strictly accidental.
Half way down the block from my apartment, on my way to work, the smiley lady greets me. She is about my age and I swear I know her from somewhere but can’t quite place where. We each smile and mumble two words, “Good Morning.” On my way home from work, we cross brisk paths in exactly the same place, smile, and say, “Good Evening.”
Behind the smiley lady comes the coffee lady. She offers cheers with her coffee cup sending aromatic waves of caffeine my way and we both mouth “good morning.” She smiles. From her casual pace and calm appearance her CD player must be tuned to easy listening. Sometimes she walks silently with another women with headphones.
Stay at home Dad returns from walking Working Mommy to BART. His son has now cycled through the front pack, backpack and stroller stages to a toddling beside Dad stage.
Five young women, in color coordinated sweat suits, jog by immersed in candid conversation. I’ve heard bits of everything from kids to sex and sometimes feel a tinge of jealousy by their youthful enthusiasm.
The gas station guy nods his head and smiles as he races from pump to pump providing full service to all his customers. He’s there every day, seven days a week, from early morning well into the evening. I’ve never seen him sitting down. He wears the same sweater every day (hopefully he has two or three all the same).
The more eccentric appear around my noontime walk.
The blind man comes out of the pizza parlor just as I pass by on my way to the post office. He’s not hard to miss in his bright hot pink, turquoise and orange clothes and bright orange backpack. Reminds me of Waldo. He gets dropped off at one end of town in the early morning, and walks the entire downtown 2 mile strip from one end to the other and back every single day. A few months ago he disappeared. “Where’s Waldo,” I wondered. I searched for Waldo everyday. Rumors of his death were soon squelched when he reappeared a few days later, same route, nothing changed.
The orange vested parking lot cop sits on the bench in front of the drug store, arms crossed at chest level peering with beady eyes at all passers by, For some reason this guy really bugs the heck out of me. It could be the fact that the parking lot is usually half empty and his services seem unwarranted. It could be the remarks I’ve heard while he teases kids, asks people nosy questions about their medications, vacations, and even sex life. Most likely it’s that high pitched babbling voice that grates on me.
Outside the beauty supply shop stands the old beauty queen smoker. She smiles and greets people with her raspy chain smoker voice. Looking through the smoke I see a once very attractive lady, maintaining her beauty as best she can, gray hair in tidy little waves, stylish clothes and a model like stance.
On my way home I see the end of the day crowd.
The parking ticketmaster is busy writing tickets five minutes before the meter clicks off for the day. Irritated drivers argue that their watches say 6 o’clock while he continues writing and slaps the tickets on the windows. He struts away with a satisfied grin, and rushes to the next car with two minutes to spare.
The mentally challenged have put in a busy day at the local thrift shop and are on their way to BART. It brightens my day to hear their always cheerful greetings.
The dog walker is pulled along by five dogs, each tugging in a different direction across the broad sidewalk. The pint sized foo foo’s yip and yap, their tiny legs in fierce motion as they keep up with the labs.
A ginger bearded guy with baggy shorts over dirty long pants, wears a coat of many colors and sandals on his feet. He walks with an agenda and I expect a sermon one of these days.
And last of all, that crazy red hatted lady with purple attire…. Oops that would be me.
Tuesday, May 18, 2004
I walked, or should I say sauntered, 24,583 steps along with 59,999+/- other participants, burning a mere 450 calories while consuming twice that many calories in free power bar bits, rice crackers, no-carb bars, and cheerios. I skipped the oozy gel stuff and vitamin water that was guaranteed to re-energize my tired body.
I blew up purple balloons to pass around my group of ladies while dodging flying tortillas and other unmentionable airborne items at the start line.
Just a little of what I observed: ?ladies? with balloon butts and boobs, Naked men yelling, “it’s ok, you can touch it if you want.”, 80+/- year old nudist couple, Naked ladies with flamingos on their heads (future red hatters?), Upside down people guzzling kegged beer, Lesbian and gay brides and grooms, Miss Kitty with pink umbrella, Orange, red, green, and blue painted bodies, T-shirt – Say no to bush and dick, Lobsters, Grass skirts, coconut bras, see through underwear, Elvis, Elvis and Elvis.
The “goods” outweighed the “bads”
Bad: the broken down charter bus
Good: BART was free from Lafayette
Good: the bus driver showed up to pick us up at other end
Bad: the person who threw a soccer ball and almost knocked out one of my friends
Good: the young man who offered to stay with my friend if she needed help
Bad: energy stuff consumed during race
Good: Luau feast of roast pig, roast corn, and double dipped chocolate/caramel apples
Bad: Having to buy frozen peas for friend who fell after the race
Good: we all crossed the finish line
Good: we had perfect weather
Will I do it again? Let’s see, I ran the race 22 years ago, I walked it this year, if I wait another 22 years maybe someone will push my wheelchair.
Thursday, May 06, 2004
Whooooooeeeeeeeee - I get to eat and eat and eat. No consequences. No explanations. Going home at lunch to work through junk food drawer. Gonna finish it all off. Because.........
tomorrow the day will be over... gone... not to return for a whole year.
Tuesday, April 27, 2004
Sunday, April 25, 2004
I go to the local drug store and check out the nail aisle. Hmmmm, all those gadgets. When I had the manicure done, I made mental notes of all the steps and supplies so I could stock up on all the necessities when I returned home. Trouble is, the list now resides deep in brain tissue under five days of Dallas disorganization, one day of babysitting and six days of work.
So I go down the aisle and and toss every tool that has anything to do with manicures and pedicures in my basket figuring I'll remember the routine when I lay out the tools. Wrong.
I sit down at the kitchen table this evening and arrange all the implements. The first step is obvious. Remove the old polish. I soak a Kleenex in the improved formula, non-acetone, protein enriched polish remover. No luck. not even a smudge. I soak a extra fluffy all cotton ball in the stuff. Still no luck. Wondering if I should have bought stuff with acetone. Wondering if there is a more appropriate tool to perform this task. Consider the chisel-like instrument. Think better of it. Soak a cotton square and try again. The polish is now smudged. One hundred cotton squares later I now see dull nails with tinges of ruby red here and there.
I hate nail files. But I get out the roughest file in the batch and work away at the edges, careful not to trim too much. My old method of hacking off the split nails with clippers every week left these short stubby nails so there isn't much to work with. Two or three swipes along each nail and I'm done.
But wait, there's this other tool that has three different files on it. At least I think they are files. I read the directions. Three steps. Step #1 Clean. Step #2 Condition. Step # 3 Shine. Aha, this must be what buffs the nails. So I do each step a couple of times across each nail. Still dull but I've had enough buffing.
Okay, I'm tired of this whole scene so I put the remaining conglomeration of tools back in my see through bag that I bought just for manicure supplies. Maybe I should just leave the nails bare. But no, I am now used to seeing color and gotten past the initial first reaction from all my acquaintances, that snide, "Is that really you?" thing they all do.
So I bring out my polishes. I never buy one of anything. Don't trust myself. So I check out the three colors I had selected in the store. Pink Pearl because that's what my mother always wore, Lavendar because it might look cool with my purple outfits, and a deep rose just in case. I think the light must have been bad. These do not look like they did in the store. I select the darkest one. Figured it wouldn't be so obvious if I lightened my color each time until I get back to natural. Kind of like the way I dye my hair.
Decide to do my right had first since it will be the most difficult. Use half a box of Kleenex to fix the edges. Try to use one of those wooden sticks like the manicurist used to smooth back the cuticles. No luck. Oh well good enough.
The left hand is easier. Except that I smudge the right fingernails by the time I'm at the left middle finger. Another half box of Kleenex, remnants are clinging to sticky polish on both hands.
The Kleenex is gone. The cotton balls are gone. The cotton squares are gone. I give up. I must be done. So I sit back and check it out. Not bad if I remove my glasses. Good enough.
But it seems there is one more step. The shiny overcoat. No problem, it's clear. I apply this quick and easily. Now my fingernails and fingertips shine.
I happen to see my toenails. They don't match my fingernails. Not even close. I call my sister-in-law. "Do they have to match?" I ask. I know the answer. But the toes still look good. I don't want to redo them. So I opt the be two toned. Feel like when I was a kid and was criticized because my purse didn't match my shoes.
In the process of putting away the rest of the stuff, I mess up a couple of nails. Grab used cotton and remove polish. Redo. Redo another one. And another. Figure out I should just leave stuff on table and come back later. Would be a good time to check my email.
I decide I should write this all down for prosperity. Or just to bore someone out there. Then I notice, My right thumb is smudged. My space bar has specks of pink rose polish. Think I'm going to repair it? Not a chance.
I've come to several conclusions:
1. I want to go back to the old days when this was a two step process. Remove old polish with the only brand of polish remover available and apply one coat of the only kind of polish on the market.
2. I need to find a good professional manicurist.
3. Men must have invented painted ladies.
Friday, April 23, 2004
My husband saw this picture and his comment was "how come you never dress up like that for me?" My response, "well when the highlight of our week is to go out to dinner at Marie Callandars, it's just a bit out of place." Anyway, I caught him putting a copy of this picture in his wallet. Believe it or not, this is me. I'm kinda getting into this dressup kind of thing.
Wednesday, April 21, 2004
The trip to the airport:
Husband gets into driver's seat. I toss 2 extra large suitcases into trunk and off we go. Just through the tunnel and some lady in a light blue BMW convertible comes up along the passenger side of the car, lays on her horn and yells B*tch at me. Of course I turn to husband and ask him what he did to her.... he insisted he didn't do anything. Well, that makes sense since obviously he is not the B*tch.
So I don my red hat and tell husband to catch up with the BMW. Just had to know who that was. Get up close and blast out the horn. I look directly into her face. She gives me a sneer, once again yells "B*tch" and then gives me the finger. I don't recognize her. Never saw her before that I know of. So I'm thinking, what on earth is this all about. Did someone put a new bumper sticker on my car? Don't think so... I would have noticed when I put the suitcases in the trunk.
Hmmmmm, could be my license plate, RHSMOLL. But why would that be offensive? The license plate frame explains it, "Official member of the Red Hat Society."
So I figure I must have an enemy because I am a red hatter. What's up with that anyway? We are a fantastic fun loving group. I've never had anyone come to my events and leave in a huff or indicate any disatisfaction with our chapter. They all come ready for fun. They stay. They make new friends. And they have a wonderful time.
There are some red hatters that project a bad image. More about that some other time. Look at my pictures. Do you see anything wrong with ladies over 50 playing dressup in flamboyant purple attire with big red hats, and enjoying the party? Hey, there were plenty of men, young and old, checking us out at the convention, cheering us on. All we want to do is enjoy the 2nd half of our life... maybe catch up on a few things we missed.
More later..... maybe