blaugra

Fancy Like

I've been listening to a lot of country radio lately. I love it, I hate it. That Applebee's song comes on and I hate it then I love it. I want tequila-little time with you. Hair piled high big hoops. He ain't mine but he's my boy. Sittin here, drinkin beer, talkin God Amen, where the peaches grow.

The picture it paints is just simplicity, good old American life, partying, and a few happy tears. A long gone fairy tale.

People. This is what Covid has pushed me to. The brink of top 25 country commercial radio.

Just turn it off, you say. No. I have this old dial radio in my kitchen. It was my Uncle John's. He would sit in his chair in his apartment in the Northern Liberties in Philly and listen to all kinds of stations. He was listening to it when he died in that chair. He wasn't found dead until days later. I told this story here.  Throwback to 2007! OMG!

This music just transports me out of my house/home office/sanctuary/prison into another world where we're all healthy, with glowing sunkist skin, a pair of jeans that fit just right, bare feet in the cool grass, big wine slushie in hand during a gorgeous sunset.

Maybe soon I'll turn the dial back to the classic rock station, when Salty D loses his mind because Fancy Like is played almost every hour. Until then I'll live in my sunny country fantasy.

So the old radio is playing the country music while I work and I just decided to blog again.

"What are you grateful for?" Nineties edition!

I'm Marie-Kondo-ing my home office and found my attempt at a Gratitude Journal. From 1998.

For a few months, I wrote daily. 5 things I was grateful for each day.  I'm going to discard the journal but before I do I thought I'd consider what I was grateful for 21 years ago, especially compared to today.

Here are some things I was grateful for in the winter of 1998:

• Thinking about a New Mexico vacation
• Hot cocoa with coworkers on a sofa
• Hot shower and flannel nightie at the end of the day
• Phoebe's mink coat on Friends
• Steamed dumplings at dinner
• Inhaling Pixie Stix with coworkers and then bouncing off the walls
• Talked with Mom for 30 minutes
• My car's disc player
• D. called me from Detroit
• My nail polish hasn't chipped yet and it's been on for 1 week
• We used our toast rack
• Mom stopped by unannounced to drop off food
• Dinner with friends in Little Italy
• I hit every lite on the way to work - all green - and I was running late
• Buying gifts over the internet
• I had a sense of accomplishment

The end.

I have to say I am still grateful for these things, not much has changed since I was 30 except I no longer eat Pixie Stix.

So what were you grateful for 21 years ago?

 

Return of blaugra

I took a much-needed hiatus.

First I decided I needed to freshen up a bit. I bought some items from BeautyBar with the discount code BBGIFTSOAPB (good until August 31.)

Just a few things to make me feel pretty.

Up there in the banner is my favorite oilcloth I bought in a little shop in Mexico.

I shopped for clothes, somewhat unsuccessfully. I found a few pairs of shoes that actually fit my platypus feet here.

And I'm working on a few projects that I think will have great outcomes.

That's life, and it's good, and it's all I need right now. Doesn't make for very exciting blog posts, RIGHT?

What color is your center?

I've missed the bloggy world but not enough to make me stop playing outside or stop cooking or stop shopping. I kind of wish I could stop shopping but apparently I can not.  I'll come out a winner after all the shopping sprees but, still, I am dreading my next credit card statement.

I have also decided to start writing more off-blog. I had to keep a little journal for my short-lived therapeutic adjustment and now that's wrapped up. 

Each day now I am supposed to think about what color my center is, and what color I want it to be.

Yes, that's right.

And it's a really good quick process of observation.

I wasn't supposed to tell you that. Therapist broad (who I really like) told me to keep it my little secret. I can keep very few secrets. If I swear to someone I'll keep my trap shut, I will, but if it's about me, I don't keep many secrets. I mean, you see what's going on here on-blog. Sheesh!

Well, now I need to do some more creative writing. Not about what color my center is each day. But eventually I'll give you some updates along the way. If I say it aloud then I'll actually do it.

Unrelated: is anyone else over Glee already?  I was a rabid fan and now I have stopped foaming at the mouth for it. It needs to end as a phenomenon at the close of this season. Let it be a Freaks & Geeks, a My So-Called Life.  Over and out.

Snow-flaking

This is pretty much what I've been up to over the last week. Watching the sky fall down in little white pieces and make everything pretty...

...and taking the requisite pictures in my yard before I have to shovel.

And fighting off the sickliness.

And being very grateful for a warm fluffy nest of a bed.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I feel like wretching after going out tonite. It is mardi gras, after all.   

  

When the dog's away

Salty D. has left me alone in the house on two nights this week.  This is an unusual occurence. 

Because I'm hibernating, I didn't go out with girlfriends.  Because I've been so tired this week, I didn't do any home projects, I didn't talk to anyone, I just hibernated and did things I don't normally do when he's in the house.

These are the things:

• Watched American Idol without someone saying, "YOU'RE KILLING ME!  WHY DO YOU HATE ME!"
• Sang along to American Idol, including hand gestures.
• Did a facial, of course.
• Considered opening up my new DVD purchased from the bargain bin at Circuit City's going-out-of-business-sale to work out with Carmen Electra leading me in stripper aerobics but I got tired just thinking about it.
• Snuggled up with lots of pillows in the middle of the bed while reading a book waaaaay after the usual lights-out time.
• Slept with Frownies on my forehead.  (They work, and they double as Biore-like strips. I woke up today and it looked like I was visited by surgeons in the night and had Botox done. It's like putting packing tape on your face but not as toxic.)
• Played my nature sounds machine all night.  Current selection:  frogs.  Makes me feel like I'm in Jamaica, where D. would say he couldn't sleep because of the "Fuckin' frogs!!" 

Life in the fast lane!

Glorious

God, I love autumn!!  Really, God, good job!

A glorious autumn day in PA.  Started off with a massage, finally using a gift certificate I'd been saving for, I guess, when I reached maximum tension.  Level accomplished. Devouring a fancy scone at the tea shop, shopping for wedding gifts, sitting still in the sunshine for 5 minutes. 

Last night, we tried for the second time to go see The Express.  Movie theatres piss me off.  Why don't any movies start at 8:00 on a Friday night?  7:00 is too early, 10:00 is too late.  I found a theatre that started the show at 7:45 - perfect.  Grab a substandard pizza with cardboard crust, whatever, get to the theatre by 7:42, "Two, please"  and then, "You do know that the movie started at 7:20, right?"  WTF.  Shit.  Nothing else to see unless we want to sit through "Sex Drive."  Aaaaaand no.  D. said, "Well, let's just go home and do laundry." HOT. 

So, today, I'm still kind of jonesing to see a movie.  Salty D. is leaving for an overnight, and I was going to do something that I "should" do, like organize my sock drawer, or go to a friend's theatre performance, or phone a friend, but I don't feel like doing any of that.  No offense, but, I just want to be alone and not have to talk for a few hours.  And so, I think I'm going to see a movie this evening.  Glorious.

toxic avenger

I paid someone to pummel me, prod me, and flip me like a pancake last nite.  A long awaited massage to get rid of the gigantour knots in my shoulders. 

I have never felt better! so ridiculously old and creaky!

And you know how massage therapists remind you to drink lots of water to flush out the released toxins?  Well, I've been drinking gallons of water and I think I'm still toxic today.  I was supposed to do all this physical stuff today but I just want to hook myself up to an IV of something good and lie on the floor.

It's a lotta work to relax during a massage, because this is the dialogue in my mind:

Do I smell?  My feet don't smell, do they?  *sniff sniff* I can't smell them.  Does my butt smell?  Do I have to talk?  I don't want to talk.  I am sooooo relaxed.  Wait, no I'm not.  Why is that leg tense?  Leg! Relax, breathe, OK. 

Aaaah.  That music is very soothing. It reminds me of New Mexico.  Drums, flutes, birds, native Americans... huh.  There's one Native American in the House of Representatives.  There should be more.  Nancy Pelosi.  Wait, was that a coyote in the background there?  And what's that growling noise - it's like a bear...  OK, THAT'S not relaxing.   Think of the birds, the pretty birds. 

Relax.  You should feel like you're being kneaded.  Be the bread dough.  You are bread dough.  Just flop around like dough.  Bears like bread - eeek! Can she see my boob?  Do I like when the butt cheek is massaged?  I'm not sure about that. I didn't think those muscles were tense, but, huh, they're tense now. 

Britney is at Sanctuary now.  Dammit,  I'm not supposed to be thinking about celebrities!  I really liked the massage I got there.  That place was awesome.  Really yummy hot chocolate... fire pits... They played a lot of Yanni.  Do my feet smell?   Oh crap, it's over already.

I woke up this morning feeling every joint in my body. 

no work and all play drives me crazy

My house still smells like roasted turkey and I'm in day 3 of Thanksgiving recovery.  I drank two glasses of Prosecco while I was cooking and that caused me to do things like put leftovers in the cupboard instead of the fridge and forget all of my table manners.

Example:  after finishing dinner, I rolled my eyes, sighed and said (probably just loud enough for my guests to hear), "Oh, God, I have to get up and serve dessert now."  I'm such a bitch.   

After my rowdy Thanksgiving guests left on Thursday and I yelled at Cristina Yang, I totally crashed.  Then spent 18 hours in Connecticut, came home and totally crashed.  Today I slept some more, because apparently I'd rather do that then put away my "company china." 

Now, the thing is, when I break my routine up so much I really throw myself around the bend.  No work, too much unstructured time -- I'm like an overtired child.  I often think about how cool it would be to run my own business, but then I remember how I can barely handle my own schedule, and forget that.

I just decided at this moment that I should go for a walk and a quick drive-by shopping mission at Bed Bath & Beyond because I'm badly in need of some Beyond.  And then, I'm turning my frown upside-down, ditching the jeans and throwing on my fishnets and vamp skirt to go to see Brian Setzer!!

You may know that Brian is the #3 guy on my desert-island-of-men, after Salty D. and Jon Stewart.  D. took me to see Jon Stewart last year, and now he's taking me to see the fabulous Brian Setzer orchestra -- even though they're doing a white-maribou and silver-lame' adorned "Christmas Extravaganza" that I know will make his heart as cold as the Grinch's again -- which means that, in concept, he is bringing my desert island to me.  On this island I will be surrounded by great music, laughter, motorcycles and famous hotties age 39 and up.  Rock on!

Now to the Beyond.

homie

Some days, do you ever walk into your home and feel like you're having an out-of-body experience, and you think, "Wow, I am a grown-up.  I live in this grown-up place. This home that I furnished.  Even if half the furniture is hand-me-down, or leftover from the college dorm room.  I have a home.  And not only do I have a home, I have a washing machine.  I can wash my own clothes." 

It totally freaks me out for about 4 seconds. 

And then, during the next 4 seconds, I tell myself that having your own space and being free to do what you want with it is a hell of an accomplishment that so many people take for granted.   It makes me want to run around the house and yard screaming with joy, "I can do whatever I want here (because I'm not a criminal) fuck yeah!!!"  Which I don't do, but, it's a momentary urge.

And then after this occasional 8-second epiphany,  I look at the kitchen sink and dammit, these dirty dishes ain't gonna wash themselves!  Sheeeit.

ANYWAY, friends are now closing the deal on their first house, and to them I wish many feelings of the second block of 4-seconds as described above - joy and a quick sense of awe, before ya have to scrub down the kitchen.