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Showing posts from June, 2012

Lagniappe

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Lots of interesting things to cover today.

1. This morning's water aerobics class was held indoors, much to the annoyance of...EVERYONE.  They apparently didn't have enough lifeguards scheduled.  Bummer dude.  Still a good workout, and naturally, I'm glad I went.

2.  I had a much needed massage this afternoon.  My masseur did an amazing job getting me unknotted and I'm better for it.  A lot better. Juan, you rock!

3. I went to the Farmers Market, and I bought tomatoes, peaches, butterbeans, soap (more on that in a second) and blackberries.  I used the berries to make a cobbler - like so:


This was to test a recipe a friend gave me.  Basically, fruit, a can of Sprite and a box of yellow cake.

It was delicious.

4.  The soap was made by a local artisan.  I bought four bars, got one free.  For myself, I got a nice citrusy one and then a patchouli - because, let's face it, I am not a hippie, but I like to smell like one.  For Matt, I got two bars of coffee scented so…

Of cabbages and kings

I'm doing something kind of foolish, but completely necessary tomorrow.  I'm getting a massage.  And not just a regular 50 minute massage.  Eighty minutes.  I'm going to work some of the crunchiness out of my right shoulder.  Maybe align everything back into place.

I'm also planning a trip to the Farmers Market, and some special Water Aerobics time at the Y.

Then I'm planning to clean. 

And pack.

Because I'm taking Lola to the mountains next weekend, and as soon as I get back, I head to Chicago.  Then home, then canoe trip.

Then Atlantic City.

Then home again.

My head is spinning a little, but I am also excited.

It's gonna be good.

And when it's over, I'll need another massage.


ae

Red and Green

So, there aren't a lot of men who darken the door of my Wednesday night Weight Watchers meeting.  I've seen less than a dozen in two years, and they rarely stay.

We have currently two regulars.

Greg, of Susie and Greg - retired couple - she does all the cooking, tracking, shopping, etc.  Greg just eats what Susie puts in front of him.

And Gary.  I like Gary.  He's a 40something man who puts up with the heavy levels of estrogen with a smile.  He has lost over 30 pounds.  And this week, he just got back from a long family jaunt to Europe.

Now, before he left, we briefly talked about his plans - there were like 15 family members all going - flying into Amsterdam, going to Maastricht to meet the family that has been tending his great uncle's grave since WWII, then to Belgium, finally Paris.

So, he was giving us the lowdown about everything.  Me, and Sharon (the college professor) and her daughter Christy (the second grade teacher).

At the end, I looked at him and said wi…

No show, all tell.

A few more things to share today:

- When I'm happy, I whistle.  When I'm stressed, I whistle Peter and the Wolf.

- Sometimes I'm inordinately impressed with my ability to come up with the exact right word that I need.  The other day, it was vulpine (of, or pertaining to foxes).  Other times, I look up words I think I know to make sure I'm using them right.  I love words.

- I took a test to see if I was anywhere on the Asperger's spectrum.  I'm not.  So, instead, I'm just socially awkward.  I'm OK with that, but it would be easier if I could blame my inability to read cues on a trendy diagnosis.

- I would like, for one week of my life, to be traffic-stoppingly, heart-breakingly, jaw-droppingly beautiful.  Just one week.  I think it would be interesting, though I suspect I'd come away realizing that every plus has a minus.  Which I already know.  But still.

- I colored my hair again, and I don't think I like it.  It feels super fakey fake.  I need…

I feel like sharing.

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Here are some things I think you should know.

- I'm not afraid of snakes and spiders, per se, but they do startle me, if I'm not expecting to see them.

- I'm actually really easily startled - ask Matt - he scares the living hell out of me unintentionally  at least once a week.

- I'm easily startled in part because I suspect I am a little hard of hearing.  I should probably look into that.

- So, my last quarter at UGA, I took a Play Writing class through the Drama department.  I made a C.  I have a number of excuses, all of them pretty thin.  Essentially, my boyfriend and I were taking the class together, it was an 8:30 class and we were young, dumb and lazy.  What can I say?  We slept in and missed class.  A lot.  I made Bs in my other two classes - an intro to Acting class and a Screenwriting class.  Yes, I raised the bar daily.  I also never told my parents about that C.  They don't really read this blog, but I think the statute of limitations has run out on this…

Baby, if you ever wondered...

It's Saturday morning, and I find that once again, I'm up far too early for the time I went to bed.

But, here I am.

I should suck it up and get ready and go to Water Aerobics.  I'm tempted to skip that in favor of Zumba this afternoon, though - Zumba is a better workout.  But, I do Water Aerobics less often, so I'd be working a different set of muscles, etc.

I don't know.  If I weren't so tired.

And since there's nothing less compelling than reading about someone else's fatigue, I'll move on.

I am headed to Cincinnati on Monday.  A quick trip, but my first real foray into Ohio.

Then, the fiscal quarter comes to a grinding halt, and we start all over again.

I need to get together invitations for the annual picnic at Goshen.  I also need to get a new pedicure.  I was going to try and hold off, but I find that it's better to face facts and let someone spend 45 minutes dealing with my hooves.  I'll be in the massage chair, zoning out if you need…

Gimme an F!

I was not a cheerleader.

I'll give you a second to process that shocking bit of news.

I wasn't on the Homecoming Court, and in fact, had to scramble quite often (and at times without success) for a date to the dance.

In fact, sidebar for a second.  The night we got married, Matt and his groomsmen all went outside to have a celebratory whiskey and cigar at the reception, and I remained on the dance floor, because, QED, I like the night life, I've got to boogie.  Well, the band started playing Easy Like Sunday Morning by the Commodores, and I found myself on the edge of the dance floor, with a slow song and no partner.  ME!  The woman in the big white dress.  Tell me that didn't stand out like a sore thumb!

I had a profound revelation then and there that marriage is no guarantee that you won't find yourself in such a predicament from time to time.  I probably stood there all of 20 seconds feeling awkward when one of my parents' neighbors took pity on me, but it w…

Plus ça change, plus c'est quelquechose different.

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So, here's something interesting... about four years ago, I wrote this.

It was about my new toy, a ukulele that Matt gave me as a much needed distraction from the fact that Dad was still quite sick so we were driving there every weekend and kenneling Lola (which was both emotionally and financially bankrupting me),  Laura and Tom had a brand new baby, and my beloved boss had just left the company.  In short, I was in a bad way.  I was terrified, tired, jealous, bereft, overwrought and depressed.  And tired.  Did I mention tired?  A quick re-read from that time period makes me look like I temporarily lost about 45 IQ points.  I was not nearly as snappy on the comeback or even frankly, that coherent.

In retrospect, the timing was off.  As much as I wanted to take my angst out on four strings, a hobby requiring practice, patience, coordination, dedication and fine motor skills was not my best option.  Closing my office door (I do miss those days) and quietly sobbing for five or ten m…

Sweet dreams are made of these...

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I tend to have some anxiety.  I deal with it pretty effectively using exercise, a sense of humor and light pharmaceuticals.
I also tend to work through what’s bothering me while I sleep. 
I have a set of dreams and dream types that seem to be recurring.  Here’s a sampler platter:
Teeth Dreams – like a lot of people, I have that dream where my teeth are crumbling and falling out.  I haven’t had it in a while, but it feels real every time I have it, to the point where I convince myself I’m not dreaming within the dream.
Bathroom Dreams – Basically, I need to pee, and I can’t find a clean or functional bathroom.  I have these when I actually need to pee.  Nothing too exceptional about these dreams, but I have them a lot, as a function of being well-hydrated.
School/Classroom Dreams – Another common one – where I am at school and either can’t remember the location/combination of my locker, or can’t find my classroom, or I’m not prepared for a class.  Or, I realize I’ve been skipping a c…

Assorted...

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Here are some things I can tell you that are not long enough to write a full blog entry about, but need to be share anyway.

Every time I buy Lola a big bag of dog food, I wonder if she'll live long enough to finish it.  I know, I know.  But it's true.  I bought her a huge bag of IAMS Sensitive Digestion kibble today.  Sigh.
Father's Day is today.  Matt and I made a very specific choice not to have kids, but this day, along with Mother's Day always make me wonder, "What if?"  This year, as I was cruising around New Orleans on Mother's Day, with a bloody mary in hand, I didn't have much time to think about it at all (except for when two people who wished me a happy day).  It's hard to feel maternal when you're surrounded by at least four of the seven deadly sins at all times.





That said, today Matt and I had lunch at Sitar, one of our go-to Indian choices here in the big city, and as soon as I heard the crying baby one section over, I reaffirmed…

Firsties!

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I woke up early this morning, well, I woke up at my normal time, but since it's the weekend, it's really too early.

But the point is, I was up too early.

I let the dog out, and what to my wandering eyes did appear?

This:


The first Morning Glory of the year.
Now, some inappropriate trivia.  What Americans call morning wood (which is to say, the phenomenon of a gentleman waking up...ready...), the Brits call morning glory.  I worked with a Welsh doctor who had  a female colleague who greeted him daily by saying, "What's the story, morning glory?" Until, to her profound embarrassment, he explained what that meant in his parlance.
Back to botany, though.
This past week, I noted in my front yard, a plant, a volunteer that looked...familiar.
And today, it also had its first flower:


I believe that this is either a squash or a pumpkin.  My friend Paul thinks it a cucumber.  I think I'm right, and I'll be delighted regardless.
So, that's it for the flora in my…

Um, no.

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So, I don't like to go all Mr. Blackwell on people, especially given that I have my own sartorial issues.  Namely, an over-dependence on paisley.

But I saw this woman walking into the building yesterday and managed to get my phone out and surreptitiously snap this photo, which, honestly, doesn't even do her shoes justice.



What we have here is a snakeskin gladiator sandal/espadrille platform cork wedge with zippers, buckles and  what appeared to be Incan inspired tooled metal plates on the instep.

Basically, she had a LOT going on with these shoes.  It was like seven different types of shoes had an orgy, made a baby and this was the result.

And as you can see, her feet are kind of spilling out over the sides.  At least her legs were shaved and moisturized.

But she couldn't walk in the damn things.  I watched her wobble and totter across the lobby.  So not only were they hideous, they weren't even redeemingly practical.

Anyway, confidential to the nice lady in the orange…

Six. Hun. Dread...

I've been busy.  BUSY.  Work, home, work...

Lola has been a little puny and seems to be on the mend.  Matt and I are both spending long hours at work.

And that doesn't leave much time for blogging.  Or, for doing anything worth blogging about.

Well, work is going well.  We're debuting a new release tomorrow and it's going to be good.

In fact, I get to do a demo of it for anyone who cares to watch in the afternoon - right after we eat ice cream.

How the hell am I going to lose weight with all this freaking food around me?

I'm sorry that Post Six HUNDRED is this boring.

But they can't all be winners.

So.

That's where we are.  Six hundred posts and four years after I started this damn blog.

Maybe my next post will be hilarious.

ae

Girl, you so crazy!

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