What He Said

Hula Hoopin'

Twelve year old girls excel at many things. When I was twelve, I could spin a hula hoop like nobody's business. And we had a white picket fence. It just doesn't get much more American than that.

The Poem's The Thing

If you hoped we'd get through April without me realizing it's poetry month, you're going to be disappointed. Just thought I'd wait til almost the last day to spring some poetry on you. If I were a better person I wouldn't derive such glee from this sort of behavior. For those of you who are not poetry-phobes and have stuck around, read on. First up, the only sonnet I have written. So far. I was inspired by that scene in Young Frankenstein where Victor and the Monster exchange bits of their brains.

Can I Be You?

Can I be you, my sweet? Then we could see

With you, as me, our love in the extreme.

To experience me, as you, would be

This; the ultimate narcissistic dream.

The pleasure of our bodies when as one

We join together, heaven within reach

As we climb, rapture building til we're done.

Secrets unfold, you'll learn, I'll learn, we'll teach.

Awakening in me sensual bliss,

Our blending souls alchemy defining.

To feel as the other each lasting kiss

Would be revealing. Naked. Divining.

I long, my love, to know you, how you feel.

The we of us combined, this way, surreal.

And because I've been troubled by the whole pheromones thing of late, this little gem:

Pheromones

You affect me pheromonally,

Visually, sensually and tonally.

My rapture is barely contained,

The reaction is purely right-brained.

Resistance is futile, you'll learn,

It's more fun to indulge than to yearn.

Dept of Tiny Home Renovation Projects*

How many days can I wear my gross and disgusting painting/work clothes before bothering to wash them? And is it permissible to use varying lengths of sheetrock screws on a single 4'x8' panel of drywall? Finally, would you agree that Cheez-it crackers are a taseteful pairing with a nice pinot grigio? All I have to say is, whether that was gastronomically correct or not really doesn't matter. The fact is, the box is gone, the box belonged to the son, and the box must now be replaced by the mom. Back to Project China.

*I refer to tiny projects in the home arena, not the fixing up of tiny homes. Which I understand are all the rage. Tiny homes. Fixer-upper or otherwise.  

Do Want

Please. Someone get one of these for me. Pleasepleaseplease.

Yes, Mary Chapin, Yes There Is

Pardon My Gush

I know this is going to make me sound hopelessly old and weird and seriously behind the technology curve. But I love having all my music on my tablet! I can take it with me everywhere! I can plug it into my stereo in the house or in the car! Even the sound from its tiny speaker is tolerable to listen to! The battery life is phenomenal! The Google music app creates playlists that I can modify! I've never been so entertained while painting.

Shipping News

So AndiBean texts me and uses the word shipping in a new and different way. New and different to me, anyway. With my brain swirling somewhere between mildly confused and totally baffled, tempered with with the specter of autocorrect, I texted back, shipping?. She replied, yes, shipping. As in friend-ship or relation-ship. I love a new application for an existing word.

Bring Your Own Spoon

Un-clutter. Paint. Clean. Beer Chaser.

Un-clutter. Paint. Clean. The un-cluttering process consists of putting back minimal decoratey stuff after painting and cleaning. Leaving the other stuff either in the trash or in one of three piles. Stuff I'm keeping gets packed away for moving. Then there's the give away pile, either to friends or Goodwill. The winning pile, meaning the most monstrous in size thus far, is the rummage sale pile. Which has overtaken and nearly obscured the dining room table. Un-clutter. Paint. Clean. One room at a time. Then the idea is to maintain each room in its newly acquired freshly painted, un-cluttered, and freakishly clean state. This is like being perpetually prepared for company. And the cats are not helping. They are finding new and creative areas to decorate with hairball barf. Please come to my rummage sale. One woman's un-clutter is another (wo)man's treasure. Back to packing!

They Don't Have to be Mutually Exclusive!

Think about it.

It's Green!

It's definitely olive. But it's supposed to be beige. Like the stripe in the curtains. That they aimed their fancy computer paint matching device toward with the idea of matching the color. The beige stripe. There are no olive stripes in this curtain panel of which we speak. Though the color works nicely in the entry with all the light from the patio door. Which has me thinking it would be a great color for the future living room once we are moved. It matches my chair! The mistake paint matches my chair! The huge chair and ottoman I bought nearly ten years ago and have moved from room to room in an attempt to make it fit somewhere but gave up and left it in the living room and swaddled it in a navy blue throw! And it looks way cool with my cobalt glass!  But for now, this paint is much too green and dark for the rest of the rooms I must paint. So. A paint mixing experiment is in progress. I'll let you know how it goes. I got lucky with this once before! Lightening strikes the same spot all the time, or so I hear.

Looking Back

Because I remember milestones and anniversaries. Because I remember how hopeful and happy I was one year ago today. This is on my mind, but in a good way as opposed to how it turned out. In the days that became weeks that rolled into the months since then I have let go. Not of the hope or the optimism or the idea of possibilities, but only of the want for this to have been the one that would matter. Blessed is the wisdom that settles in over time. I am grateful for the resilience. I am still learning patience.

Sums it Up for Me

Continuing EduTainment

One of the advantages to living in a college town are the lectures that are open to the community. Usually free. Often enlightening and educational. I'm thinking about going to this one tonight. Between this and Science at the Pub tomorrow night, my brain should be full for a while.

Crap on the Curb

It is mid-April. Yes, I have filed my taxes. Yes, I have paid the first half of my property taxes. But neither of these is the subject for today. It's city wide spring cleanup! Where all citizens put their crap out next to the street for free pickup and disposal. But before the city trucks make their rounds, scavengers creep along the streets to peruse the range of merchandise. I like to think of this activity as the ultimate in recycling. In years past, I have put to the curb such choice junk that the entire pile has disappeared in short order.

Take note of this entertainment center, which I attempted to sell at two rummage sales. No buyers. I also attempted to give it away by posting this photo on Facebook. No takers. Someone wanted it, though, it is gone from the boulevard. I have seen similar pieces upcycled into toy kitchens as well as mini wardrobes for a child's room. I do hope that this is the fate that has befallen my discarded furniture.

Same history for this computer desk. No buyers, no takers. But within the first few hours at the curb the lower portion of the desk was gone, the hutch left all forlorn on the brown grass. The upper part left later, leaving only the plastic cd racks strewn on the ground. I really must get out there and pick them up and dispose of them properly. Also taken early was a rickety barstool and an office chair with its back missing. Two old computer towers were claimed by a highly organized troupe of fellows with a pickup. One driver plus two others riding in the back who hopped off and grabbed abandoned electronics from each side of the street. What remains awaiting the city truck are some carpet scraps, odd bits of lumber, a complete but lousy office chair, and a pair of dead speakers nestled in a styrofoam cooler. If you haven't gotten out there to shop the curbside treasure, the best stuff is probably gone. Don't despair, though, I have a rummage sale coming up next month.

Fifty Shades of Beige

I have three gallons of paint in a lovely shade of beige. I may need more. After a meeting last week with realtor Katie, who shall ever after be known in this space as ReloKatie, I learned that people are comfortable with beige. So it seems I must cover up the Pink Sangria, the King Triton blue, the Red Cedar. The Apple-A-Day has been deemed friendly enough to remain, but the others must be beige-ified. Reid and I had the following conversation:

Me: It looks like Project China will begin soon.

Son: (casting me a sidelong glance) What?

Me: I'll be beige-ing up the place. 

Son: (with furrowed brow)  What?

Me: (indicating buckets of beige paint and grinning) I'm painting things beige! Beige-ing! Beijing! The capital of China!

Son: Groan.

Me: Snortle!

Advice

I challenge you to not hear this in your head in Glinda's voice.

Or, If You'd Rather, Call Me Al

Call Me HAL

Homo Sapiens are said to be the only creatures who can hold two conflicting thoughts in their brains at the same time, giving each equal weight. This uniquely human ability is known as compartmentalization. We file our thoughts away in their own little cubbies and free ourselves from making a decision on any number of issues. I am not good at this. When mutually exclusive informations occur to me, they are not polite little acquiescent bits of stuff that stay put in their assigned compartments. This may have something to do with the monkeys, I can never be sure. They* escape and chase each other about, eventually confronting one another and duking it out until one or the other prevails. The winner then takes up residence in its own comfy spot until some new idea comes along to challenge it. Which brings us to yesterday. When I was experiencing a particularly vexing round of dueling dogma, which I am happy to report was satisfactorily resolved. When I am in the clutches of one of these episodes I tend to unload on a friend. And when that friend happens to also be the unsuspecting source of the conflagration it becomes much too heavy for everyone involved. My muddled brain is settled now thanks to JT Phlaan. He is unflappable, patient, and kind. I am grateful to all the people in my life who find me worth the effort.

*They being the thoughts, not the aforementioned monkeys. Unless they turn out to be one and the same. Which is a distinct possibility.
  

4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42

I missed it! At 4:23 and 42 seconds this afternoon, the cosmic numbers from Lost arrived on the clock. I don't remember what I was doing. Something truly significant I expect. Like vacuuming or tending to the laundry. Do I still have time to buy a Powerball ticket? Which number should be the Powerball? Must I purchase six of them to cover all the bases? I think I'd rather stay in my big, comfy chair, thank you. I like that 42 is on the list. The answer to life, the universe, and everything. If only we knew the question.
  

Chocolate + Birds = Magic

Where Beauty Lives

Some Do, Some Don't

Aside from making me stay up much too late much too often engaging in binge-watching sessions, Netflix has done something good. Wait, binge-watching isn't good? Apparently I need to address binge-watching in another post. Today we are comparing sitcoms of the past. Upon rediscovering them on Netflix, I was surprised to find that some of them just didn't hold my attention, or even downright annoyed me. The following four were dropped from my Instant Cue almost instantly. Don't get me started on how it is merely My List now.

* Wings
* The Dick Van Dyke Show
* Soap
* The Addams Family

Others withstood the test of time, even though decades have passed since their original airing. 

* Cheers
* Friends
* 3rd Rock From the Sun
* Frasier

I have just sped through the first season of 3rd Rock. I had forgotten how hilarious it is! A spin on the classic fish out of water premise, the writing is sharp and and the cast is more than capable of delivering the fast-paced dialog. John Lithgow is an amazing, rubber-faced comic actor. And how adorable is Joseph Gordon-Levitt? The squinty-eyed French Stewart raises the idiot savant to new levels and Kristen Johnston is so damn funny in her delight/revulsion at being trapped in a female body. The roles are all physically demanding in a way that demonstrates how odd they feel as aliens in human form. I'm almost sad there are only 139 episodes. 

Funniest Line in This Movie So Far

(deep sigh) I think you're constipated. In your fucking soul. I think you might have a really big load of grumpy, petrified poop up your soul's ass.

The best thing is, I'm only half way through it. The movie, that is. I'll be getting back to it now.

Just an Ordinary Friday

Until I remembered I was having lunch with Karen. Then later Sara and Maddie stopped by for a quick hello and a hug. Reid made me laugh til I snorted. Ordinary can be pretty darn good.

Vital Information

Graphic by joeydevilla.com

3rd Rock From The Sun, Season 1, Episode 13

We need look no further. Clearly the world ends sometime this year. We can all relax in the knowledge that all the answers to life's questions can be found in sitcoms from earlier decades. If you are familiar with 3rd Rock, you know that Dick Solomon, played by John Lithgow, often goes off on a lunatic tangent while lecturing the students in his physics class. Like this:

There you have it! Friendship obviously is just a big waste of time and yet everyone on the planet gets all worked up about these pointless little behaviors blissfully unaware of the great vaporizing meteor due in 2015! (awkward pause while his eyes nervously dart about the room) Which obviously doesn't exist because I'm kidding!

And there you have it. Like Dick said.

Cyclonic Siblings

Yes, this is a real post. Yes, I realize what day it is. And somehow that makes it that much more appropriate. I have a new friend, you see, by way of my cousin Cory. If you're one of those people who thinks Facebook friends aren't real friends, just toddle off and play with one of your imaginary ones while the rest of us chat. Brenda, my new buddy, posted the above photo and called her sister's attention to it. A verbal slapfest ensued which I found to be quite entertaining and also familiar. I commented that they must be sisters and Brenda answered back with, not just sisters, twin sisters! Twisters! I love it! This most obvious of portmanteaus has been hanging out there just beyond my frame of reference for years! How did I not think of it? Thank you, Brenda for bringing it to my attention! We really must get together for drinks. Soon.

No Foolin'

I have a toilet to fix. And a carpet threshold strip to cement down. Bundles of tree branches to tie up and get to the curb. A clean dishwasher to unload. Cats to feed. A photo organization project to tend to. And a fresh blob of hairball barf has materialized over night that begs to be cleaned up. I'm guessing I'll get three of these things done today. If I don't get distracted. Wish me luck.