a slice of my life

Sometimes I like to do multiple things at the same time. For example, most mornings I'm "Media Multitasking"-you know, watching TV, surfing the Web, reading the morning paper etc, etc. Add to this an occasional ball toss to the kitty with coffee in hand and my conscious awareness is literally all over the place, and I'm good with that. I assume the majority of people multitask throughout the day and for most of their lives but besides the morning routine I prefer to do things one step at a time. I actually prefer less stimuli in general in life- in every situation. I've informally diagnosed myself as an HSP . I really do HATE: loud noises, bright lights and 'smells'. I am an extremely intuitive person and get annoyingly overwhelmed when I have tons to do, say or respond to with little room to think. I enjoy Mr. Rogers and the game of baseball for the same reason- they're both slow and easy to focus on.

So as much as I attack situations with the long, slow approach, when it comes to cooking and drinking I'm multitasking like a pro. Monday evening was a good example of how my stream of consciousness went from practically comatose to hyper-aware in a matter of minutes. It all started when I made the decision to finish my 2007 summer CD and pour myself a glass of wine. Within that next hour and 1/2 or so, not only did I complete and listen to my mix, but I grilled a steak, roasted potatoes and asparagus, had an online conversation with a realtor about an outdoor shower, made a red wine sauce for the steak, ate olives, cheese and bread, played a game of hide and seek with the kitty and drank the entire bottle of red wine. Yes, entire bottle- with no hesitation. Now if that's not productive multitasking, I don't know what is. I went from living room to grill to stove, to living room- to bathroom to kitchen and back again. My senses were alive and I was focused and alert. I had a goofy smile on my face when C. Love walked in at around 7:30. First she told me it smelled good in there, then she said, "what are you smiling at?", I told her it was because I made an awesome sauce- she said "you're drunk" and walked into the other room to change. Ok, so I admit it, I drank the whole damn bottle (minus 3/4 of a cup for the awesome sauce) but the stuff was good and my shut off valve was lost when thoughts of that outdoor shower on Cape Cod came rushing in. Needless to say, the meal was delicious (I think)but conversation was a little rough around the edges and sleep wasn't as dream like as it usually is.

The next morning I was a little slow on the uptake but I actually found Mr. Rogers on TV to watch and my paper was delivered late so it was just me and my coffee and the couch. When I came home from work and C.Love asked me how my day was all I could think about was how I struggled through the day because I drank that whole bottle of wine- but I was good. I wouldn't have changed a thing. Wine, music and cooking? what more could I ask for- besides a whole lot more of that wine... Cheers- not so much to the end of summer with the dreaded Labor Day coming up but more so to the start of something new... and inspiration.

club victoria

Every so often we receive 10 dollar gift type cards from Victoria's Secret and sometimes they have a 'free panty' offer attached to it. Just for the record, the word "panty" is on my list of words I hate. We got one of those cards while we were away and C.love wanted the free thing so since the store is close to where I work, I offered to pick her up a pair- no problem.

The store had recently been remodeled but I had no idea it was it was going to take on the look and feel of what it did. As soon as I joined the throngs of people piling through the revolving door and made my way inside I was immediately blown away by not only the size of the place but with the electric atmosphere as well. Amazing. I stood there glancing around trying to figure out which way to go but nowhere out there, in that huge sea of bras and panties was there any indication that what I was looking for would be easy to find. (I was also in there for a new racer back bra in my newly discovered size-32D) All I saw was thousands and thousands of colorful, shiny, sparkly, glittery, lacy-things. And plenty of panties and pink dogs flying around- Madonna was blasting over the sound system, the floor was shaking and people were running through the place like it was Grand Central Station. I decided to follow the woman who had said hello to me when I first walked in, to ask her where I could find what I was looking for. She led me over to the farthest corner in the store and as we took the long stroll I was thinking two things: 1. why the hell am I always interested in things that are on the fringe and 2. where's Giselle Bundchen?! (it felt like there should have been a runway somewhere around there)

As we made our way through the store on route to the racerback bras, I couldn't honestly believe how much the place resembled a night club! Shit, there were flashing lights, beautiful (and not so beautiful ) people milling around, glitter, boobs, shiny things, loud thumping music and video screens... well, I'm not sure about the video screens but if there wasn't, there should have been. It was amazing and might I add brilliant. But I don't understand how there can be so many different types of bras and panties out there, and then I think- are the people buying and wearing all this stuff wearing it all the time? Because if the outer clothes don't reflect what's under them it all seems just a little wrong. You know? How about instead of paying 50$ plus for your bra, you dish out half that for a decent pair of jeans- that's what we're looking at, not your undies. Whatever.

When we finally made it over to the corner I asked her if she had the bra in 32D, and she looked at me and said "NO". Damn!, all that for nothing. Then I asked her if there were any bras in the night club that were in 32D, she again said "no, I'm sorry it's just not a popular enough size, you must be one of the lucky few, narrow in the rib cage?". "Yeah" I said. I'm thinking- LUCKY? I don't call this lucky if I can't find my size in Victoria's closet! I was so distracted by the nightclub atmosphere that I totally forgot to ask where the free panties were, but I managed to flag down the next head phone woman that walked by and she led me over to the bin. I was waiting for Justin Timberlake to come dancing in from the dressing room but no such luck. To make a long story short: I had ZERO success. No free panty, no bra, no nothing. I waked out empty handed and defeated.

I was thinking they should install a bar in the back corner and then nobody would leave empty handed. Plus it would totally complete the scene.. music, a runway, a bar- know what I'm saying? I'd definitely go there for a drink- if it was offered. But now I think I'll shop exclusively on line and drink at my own place- it's just easier . Victoria's place was a little frightening for a Thursday night.

my (future) summer home

I need some cash, cold hard cash because I want to buy something that at this exact moment I can't really afford. Or should I say is a little above my price range. It's a house- on Cape Cod. But it's way more than that; it's actually a house on The National Seashore in Wellfleet. There's a particular home in the same area that I'm more interested in but it isn't even up for sale. I have the woman in charge of these cottages asking the owner if they are willing to sell. Here's the thing, I'm tired of wanting and waiting- I can't take it anymore.

Ever since we got back from vacation we've started to adopt a new philosophy of just doing (whatever it is we want to do) and the rest will take care of itself. This requires a huge amount of faith and trust: that the universe will ultimately give you exactly want you deserve and desire. We are all in control of our own lives and a lot of the times I know fear and or crap gets in our way and holds us back. it's actually the philosophy of The Secret, or of the Law of Attraction. It's for real and it works. I have tons of faith, but it's a bit frightening all the same.

So I need some greenery, anyone got any they want to invest in something?
The path behind the house looks like this:
And then it's just steps away from this:

If we buy, we plan on renting it out to friends and family with the exception of a couple of weeks in July reserved for us. It's just a cottage we're looking for; a summer cottage to generate some additional income... for now. After that- who knows. It's just a beach house, it can't be all that difficult to get- right? If I could just find a way...

occupied

Something extremely horrifying happened to me on the plane to Boston last week; horrifying and when I made my way back to the seat I told C.Love the event was "traumatic"-it was that bad.

Let me preface this story by admitting how much of a freak I am about germs, germs in general: spit, sneezes, mucous, sweat, smells, shopping cart handles, salad bars etc. Public restrooms put me on major alert as do crowds when there's no air in the room and kindergarten classes. I manage to never touch my hands to my eyes and or mouth during the day and I wash my hands before and after I pee. (my thoughts are turning to the whizzy) I wouldn't call myself obsessive or compulsive at all, but I will say I think I am more concerned about germs and human waste than most of the general public is, I admit I have a problem. I'm in and out of a public restroom faster than a little boy in a bush but when it comes to airplanes I'm lost,confused, trapped and helpless. In my mind germs are just flying rampant all over that cabin and when someone sneezes?!, shit I just hold my breath and crank that air knob overhead. It's all I got. I don't drink anything before flying just because I want to avoid that bathroom at all costs- I can't stand going into that little room, it freaks me out. Morning flights are tough because of the need for coffee, but I try to get it all out before we board or if there's any left I'll hold it for as long as I can. (I know it's not good to hold it) Once inside that door and body turned around my mind is on nothing other than releasing and bolting- get me the hell out.

Last week, I don't know what happened, but I had to pee so I made the trek down the aisle. We had a good hour and a half left before reaching another bathroom so I figured I should go. And I did, with little interference; the trauma occurred as soon as I leaned over to flush... When I turned around to hit the button with my foot, my glasses fell off my shirt and landed straight into the fucking hole. The black (or toilet bowl disinfectant blue) hole. In that loud, flushing suction moment I froze. In what seemed like a solid 10 minutes, but was only probably 3 seconds between the flush and the end of the flush I watched my glasses go down... and come back up again. My first thought was shit because they were my only pair of glasses (I don't wear contacts) and I planned on driving a lot, then I thought-shit- THEY ARE STILL ALIVE? There they were sitting right there- wedged over the hole, I had to go in and get them. Wait a minute, GO IN AND GET THEM?!! But they were right there, just an arm's length away. With no time to panic, I held my breath, blocked out the thought of what I was doing and pulled them out. I picked the glasses out with 2 fingers and immediately tossed them onto the sink. I had no idea what was happening at this point but I managed to wrap them in a paper towel, wash my hands and get the hell out of there.

As I approached my seat at 14 D, C. Love looked up at me and said, "are you all right?" I said "no, I just had a very, very traumatic experience", then continued to recreate the toilet scene. She laughed and I wanted to cry. I sat there with my hands stretched out for the next 20 minutes, thinking I had some disgusting fungus growing on them. When the drink lady came by to ask if I wanted anything, all I could think of was a wet-nap. That would have been pretty nice at that point but she didn't have one. Figures, all she had were liquids.

So what's the deal? has this type of thing ever happened to anyone else? Have you ever lost anything down the airplane toilet?

(There was zero damage to the glasses by the way... amazing.)

Duh

They needed a study from Washington to figure this out?! Come on now...

Updated: 6:19 p.m. CT July 31, 2007.-Lust trumps love when it comes to having sex
Study finds there aren’t many gender differences in reasons for intimacy

WASHINGTON - After exhaustively compiling a list of the 237 reasons why people have sex, researchers found that young men and women get intimate for mostly the same motivations.
It’s more about lust in the body than a love connection in the heart.
College-aged men and women agree on their top reasons for having sex — they were attracted to the person, they wanted to experience physical pleasure and “it feels good,” according to a peer-reviewed study in the August edition of Archives of Sexual Behavior. Twenty of the top 25 reasons given for having sex were the same for men and women.

Men's top 10 reasons:

1. I was attracted to the person.
2. It feels good.
3. I wanted to experience physical pleasure.
4. It’s fun.
5. I wanted to show my affection to the person.
6. I was sexually aroused and wanted the release.
7. I was “horny.”
8. I wanted to express my love for the person.
9. I wanted to achieve an orgasm.
10. I wanted to please my partner.

Women's top 10 reasons:
1. I was attracted to the person.
2. I wanted to experience physical pleasure.
3. It feels good.
4. I wanted to show my affection to the person.
5. I wanted to express my love for the person.
6. I was sexually aroused and wanted the release.
7. I was “horny.”
8. It’s fun.
9. I realized I was in love.
10. I was “in the heat of the moment.”

Bottom line? it's all about the senses baby. Just get those juices flowing- whatever it takes.

sucks

It totally sucks going back to 'life' after vacation. I don't do it well and should have taken today off from work also... but I didn't.

gone fishin'

It's actually just a little over 1000 miles from where I sit right now and in less than 7 hours I'll be a mere 37 miles away. Yippee.


I'm off to spend a week of sun and fun on the beaches of Cape Cod and the taxi comes in about 1 1/2 hours. Why the hell is it that before you leave for vacation to do basically absolutely nothing, the week before is loaded with enough miscellaneous crap to keep you busy from morning til night. This is the first 'free' time I've had for awhile. (and it's not really free because this is the last thing I should be doing-I still have to finish packing).

Anyway, I'm off to Harwichport for a few days and then Brewster for a few more. In between is P-town. It'll be family time, beach time, fresh fish time, National Seashore time and so much more I can't even describe. If you've been there you totally understand and if not... I'm sorry. I'm out!- Later.

curb it

The other night I came home from work and sat down at my dining room table with a beer; that little picture is not anything that I haven't done a thousand times before but for some reason the beer that night had a really bad aftertaste. As I sat there thinking about the day, I heard some loud voices coming from the park across the street (this also is not so unusual) and noticed a group of people sitting on the curb with their feet in the street. There was a cute little girl around age 3 with awesome pigtails that stuck straight out from the side of her head, a boy about age 7, and three women around 30 ish or so -oh and a little chiuaua dog. They were just hanging out talking but my 'spidey sense' told me something wasn't right with them and sure enough I was correct.

Even though they may have looked and sounded completely out of place in this neighborhood, I was trying to tell myself they were probably just "having fun", so I sat back down and finished my beer. Soon enough they got louder and louder and began to create a scene for everyone in the park. Since they were pretty much right outside my window, I stood up to see what the hell they could be doing; again, they weren't actually doing anything- just hanging- strangely on the curb. Then I heard someone yell " you gotts go the to da bafroom?!" the little 3 year old voice whispered back "yes" (as if she was sorry). I watched as the mother immediately grabbed the little kid by the arm, practically lifting her off the ground saying "come on, we'll go over here" but looking around realizing there was no place to hide. No place but behind the trash can that is- the trash can that is practically on the sidewalk. Now I've peed in my share of strange and public places in my lifetime but not when I was three and not because my mom had taken me to an unfamiliar neighborhood without a car to take us back home with. (I'm just saying there was a bunch of bushes a mere 20 feet away) Ok, whatever. The little kid proceeded to do her thing behind the trash can as the 7 year old boy did his best to alert the public that this was happening. Now I understand this event won't scar her at all and she probably didn't really care where she peed but for some reason it bothrered me; then I heard her mother yell, while dragging her over to the trash can, " she's gots to learn somehow- this will make her a woman". Ok, now I could feel my anger coming up through my chest. Ahhh, learn what first of all- that her mom is an idiot or that it's ok to pee on the sidewalk in public- what exactly is the lesson here. I don't think peeing by a trash can has anything to do with womanhood but that's just me-I let that comment go but the whole scene wasn't sitting well with me- again, spidey sense...

I decided to leave the dining room at this point because it wasn't doing me any good watching this. As I tried to settle back down with another beer, I heard the little chiuaua dog barking incessantly and then heard my neighbors voice- what the fuck. I grabbed my beer in frustration and looked out the window to see what was going on, again nothing- still just sitting on the curb, talking to my neighbor who was walking her huge Siberian Husky. That's why the chiuaua was freaking out. I watched for a minute because I wanted to see the husky and the chuaua interact, it would have been funny but I never saw that- the strangers didn't want to get off the curb. What transpired was horrible to see: the woman holding the chiuaua was choking her dog with the lease and continually whacking it with her shoe because it wouldn't stop barking. Yeah, that's right the dog was barking... duh. I'm telling you she was whacking that dog non stop. With every swat the dog flew a couple inches and it went on and on and on. Watching someone violently hit a dog, really hard kills me. I honestly don't know what stopped me from physically going outside to ask her politely what the fuck her problem was, but I didn't.

Witnessing the abuse of a dog or a child is the one thing that could potentially turn my own anger into uncontrollable rage. Most of the time I have to quickly turn away from the scene for fear of what I could say or do, but mostly I turn away because it upsets me so much. I can't physically stand it. If I actually sensed any child or animal was being abused to the point of no return believe me I would intervene. This particular event wasn't all that horrible, it wasn't good but we've all seen much, much worse. I'm just saying if she's treating her little mini dog like that I don't want to know what's going on with pigtail girl- no thanks, can't go there.

After seeing this, the next day I read a very disturbing post by maria out there in Nebraska- not a good way to relax with a beer on a warm, sunny summer day.

butt ugly

The one and only reason I can't wait until January 2008 is because this is when the Smoke-Free Illinois Act will take effect. I'm so fucking tired of coming home after a night out smelling like smoke; it's bad enough that I reek of alcohol but couple that with stale cigarette smell and It makes me feel like a big fat bar boozer.

I hate smoking. I hate smoke, the smell of smoke, the look of a cigarette, ash trays and smokers breath. Unlike so many people, I don't find smoking to be sexy or "cool"- believe me I could name about a thousand other things that I would allow the coolness label to be attached to. I also find it annoying and somewhat rude when smokers file outside during a party (regardless of the weather) because they need a hit- and they never seem to go alone. Smoking seems old school, totally addictive instead of enjoyable, dirty and just plain stupid if you ask me.

I don't care that people smoke as long as they never come out of their house or car to do it. Now if I could only get a loud talking act to pass, I'd be good to go.

NOT sexy

Can someone please enlighten me and explain why 9 out of 10 women who wear thongs are overweight and insist on either wearing pants that are too low or too tight for their bodies? It can't be comfortable, right? Plus colored thong, white pants?- what the fuck is this?!

I don't get it, I mean it's not sexy or attractive to see the thong sticking up 6, 7, 8 inches higher than the jeans... what's the deal?

summer's soft spot

I seem to be completely saturated in the haze of summer lately. Ever since that Summer Solstice weekend my mind has completely gone on break, as it did years ago when school would let out. The only difference now is that instead of flagging the ice cream truck down or playing 'kick the can' until dusk I'm watching time go by as if I have nothing else to do for the rest of my life.

I've been lost in the moment of what it's like when the morning light turns to afternoon sun or when early evening turns into full fledged night time-that time period when you happen to be just talking or watching or reading or sitting and in what feels like a split second, the world outside has completely changed. Lost in the moment. I'm worried that in two months from now I'm going to wake up and be blindsided by the fact that the calendar now says September. Summer is like a drug, but in addition to the natural intoxication it gives me, add on top of that my usual consumption of alcohol and I'm pretty much checked out-period.

Being lost in the heat of the sun and heat of the moment, whether the moment consists of lust, love or time is all good. I can't quite figure out why blogging has gotten lost in all of this haze though. What always felt like such a concrete force seems to have melted away - temporarily...

summer solstice

Six months from now I'll be willing to give up my pinky finger for today's date: June 21. Not because it'll be four days before Christmas but more so because my thoughts from December-March are focused on one thing- summertime.

I don't know what I'm thinking but if there's any day of the year I should be throwing a party it's today. But I'm not. Not only is it the longest fucking day of the year and the official kick-off to summer but it's also Thursday (Thursday's rock) and around here it's Pride weekend. Summer has a certain feel to it and the fact that it only lasts three short months has got to mean something in the big picture, but I have no idea what; all I know is it's way too short of a season. I want to see the sun, feel the heat, hear the stillness in the air, bask in the energy and throw my winter jacket in a corner in the closet. The next three months are pretty much the closest thing to a guarantee that temperatures will be 70 or above. I'd like to be able to take the next three months off of work and just do nothing because that's what you're supposed to do in the summer; sit and wait... and drink lemonade. I actually think that today should be a national holiday- everyone, whether they like summer or not could find some benefit to "summertime".

I hope everyone out there has a fabulous summer. I hope it's not too hot for those who hate the heat and not too cool for those who want to sweat. So happy summer solstice everyone and happy "Pride". Cheers.

I'm just saying

Monday Night's "I'm just..."

1. What the hell is it with America's fascination with "William" and "Harry"?

2. Lemon-Lime Gatorade

3. But I like to 'give'... usually (sex)

4. Try it on french fries (mustard)

5. I would if I could t2

6. We better be riding on it instead of walking next to it (the fire engine at the Pride Parade)

7. It's the Red Sox

8. Because there's nothing on (TV)

9. You might want to close the door

10. Fuck, I just don't feel like talking to him tomorrow

11. Cus she's hot!

12. I need to stand up (when I think)

13. It's because it's warm out

14. We can if you want...

15. I didn't even have one beer tonight

Exactly(?)

"I always tuck my panties into my pants pocket,fold my bra and lay in on top of the pants.

Adam always said she had old lady legs."

(Got this one this morning- it's pretty funny)

strumming, singing and moaning

OK, still feeling a bit angry so I'm going off on my neighbors-here’s the deal: In the apartment across the hall from me there lives a couple who happen to be (I think) professional musicians. The problem is that they practice day and night and it’s fucking annoying when I just want some peace and quiet. And believe me, I could really use some peace and quiet, I have enough racket going on in my head these days.

They’re not rock stars by any means; I believe they are classical musicians. The woman is a singer and the dude plays the harp and piano. Most of the time it's pleasant because the music is gentle and kind of soothing- sounds like wind chime, new age meditation music. Believe me I’d much rather have someone singing classical music and playing the harp than screaming with an electric guitar. The clincher is when they plug in the amp- that’s right, I said amp. I think they have a synthesizer over there too. Now an amp in an apartment building is not right. I’m cool with a little acoustic rock, maybe a flute here and there, maybe even a piano but an amp? No way. It’s like a studio over there. They play late into the night and start early in the morning. It’s not every day, but I don’t think they work; they only leave the building when they have a gig at night. Plus they argue all the time, huge blow-outs with her high pitched screaming and doors slamming you'd think someone was getting murdered. The thing that bugs me about (opera) singers is the same thing that bugs me about (ballet) dancers: they both can't stop doing it. They sing when they walk the dog and they dance whenever they are in motion. Stop it!

The music in itself is annoying enough but It’s like these two don’t know how to live around other people either. They have no regard for others and I don’t get it. They are the type of people who have no boundaries- you know come home late at night, stumbling up the stairs,talking as if they were the only two people in the neighborhood. Sure, I’d like to crank my stereo late at night but do I? No because I’m normal. I’m a normal, considerate neighbor. They're loud, they're annoying, they're rude and they're out of control.

Saturday morning at 7, we were woken up with the sound(s) of them having sex. Windows open, she's an opera singer...you get the picture.

mystery solved

Question for t2: is this where the Puerto Rican thing came from? The photo on the top is me and the one on the bottom is NOT (obviously). I thought that was clear from my respective posts but maybe not so much. (Photo #1 was a play on photo #2...)

For those of you unfamiliar with what's going on here, when I met trinity2 face to face, she had said she was thrown when she saw me. Thrown, not necessarily because of my "look" but more so because she was under the impression that I was Puerto Rican. I ain't no freakin Rican.

Just wanted to clear that up in case anyone else is thinking the same thing.

anger,drugs and energy

I was so feeling so angry today, all day long. I couldn't wait to get out of work and leave; leave the day and enter the night. Nothing was wrong within the day, I just woke up feeling the anger. It probably would have helped if I didn't go into work and instead tried to figure out why I was so angry but that's not so easy either so I guess it's just as well. I feel sorry for anyone I came into contact with today, but then again they're used to it. Some days just seem more intense than others. I actually have a lot of anger inside me and I was thinking (after this weekend) that the only time I unleash it is in this blog. I realize I "go off" a lot in this blog and I understand my words may be a little harsh at times but it's a part of me that is real so I refuse to apologize for it. Afunt didn't waste any time telling me I was (in her words) a little prickly in my blog. After meeting her face to face for the first time it was like the second thing she said. It seemed as though it bothered her or something, but anyway it kept me thinking about the subject all weekend long.

I do have some anger stored up in me, what that's all about who knows but I'm thinking besides this blog and going off at work, I need a way to get my anger out. The problem is that I'm not an angry person; I'm a very calm, relaxed, somewhat intense person so doing physical things (besides, you know what... and running) I tend to stray from loud, rough, fast situations. I do love driving fast, that helps. Speeding always helps with the anger management but unfortunately my car these days is so bad off that it doesn't like it when I push it to perform more than it is able- it just won't let me drive with some verve and it's frustrating as hell.

I am definitely more when I write; I'm louder, more vocal, harsher, more judgemental (cus I can't fucking see you all), more brave, and more fearless. But that's normal, right? As my weekend buddies can attest to: in real life I am very relaxed, don't really swear too much, prefer to listen instead of speak, and like it slow and steady. What's the deal?! In my opinion I have the worst kind of anger because it's like always slowing boiling and only overflows every so often. It's similar to something being charged- I'm charged.

Anyway, today sucked, but I feel better already. I went running as soon as I got home, or should I say- sprinting. I ran out of the house like a bat out of hell (whatever that looks like). I picked up a pizza on the way home, sunk into the left over bottle of wine from the weekend and got a "check- in" e-mail from my 'Hotlanta' buddy so I'm all good. Drugs and energy; they do a body and mind good.

I know that anger is usually a mask for fear... hmmm, something to ponder as I drink the rest of this delicious wine.

a toast to the weekend

After falling asleep with computer on, cat curled up in my legs and C.Love at the store I woke up to a much welcomed place of silence and a not so pleasant feeling of void. I enjoy silence and after all the haze of the weekend it was nice to sit with some clarity; even if I was only clear on the fact that it was 4 o'clock in the afternoon on Memorial Day. The void part is what came through loud and clear though- they were right here and now they're back in(out) there.

But after I peeled myself from the couch and helped with the groceries, I did manage to finish off a bottle of red wine and come to the simple conclusion that we had one very special weekend, even if I couldn't seem to get any fucking words out of my mouth the whole time or couldn't get the analogy of 'comics coming to life' out of my head. Words will come, as will other thoughts but one thing stands strong today: thank god I started blogging because I probably never would have ever met any of these people otherwise. And as afunt is used to saying, "they're good eggs" (not that I thought any differently before this whole thing). I'm still processing all that happened during the weekend, not necessarily what we did or where we went but the important stuff about how we felt and for me how damn comfortable it actually was... bizarro. I've been freaking out about this weekend since the idea came up and actually thought about bailing on the whole thing all together but thankfully snapped out of it and decided to suck it up-I mean soak it up. Man, did I ever soak it up, like a kitchen sink sponge. It's difficult for me to be present in situations that are highly charged or unknown- and this weekend I got both. I've only been on one blind date in my life and it sucked and I tend to close up in situations I can't get a grip on. I was trying to explain that to kelly on the way to the airport but that situation wasn't so normal either so I may have sounded like the adults do on Charlie Brown (whawawa wahwa wa waaaha) for all I know.

Bottom line to this whole event, as t2 eluded to a little on Sunday night in the hotel, was this weekend was necessary for the big picture to become complete and sometimes the new, bizarre, hazy picture looks and feels a whole hell of alot brighter, older and calmer than the the old one's we know do. I'm thankful we decided to do this, thankful it was in Chicago (no escape), thankful they all exceeded any expectations I had of them and thankful it's over with. It was cool to meet bloggers up close and personal but still so strange I can't seem to get over it. It's that damn comic analogy...

she's back

I know it's crazy to watch a show because of it's host but it's not like I watch it with the volume down and look away at the moments she's not on; I enjoy watching the actual performances as well. I don't dance, I don't attempt to dance- well or have any knowledge on the subject. Sure I can move to music but my days of dancing have mostly been made up of sweaty drunken nights not moving to the music but slamming to the beat. When this show eventually works it's way down to the final contestants it's sheer entertainment- at least for me. It's amazing to me to watch so many (I'll say kids) with so much naked talent; I can't relate and I just watch in complete awe.

Thursday night it all returns: hot bodies, excellent dancers, amazing talent and Cat Deeley. She made my list. What a kick off to the weekend, "So You Think You can Dance" runs all Summer long. She's defintely a reason to stay in on a hot sultry night.

something I just have to say

I know this is going to sound insensitive, cold, maybe even mean but I can't stand children's art. You read correctly- CHILDREN'S ART.

An entire section of my town today is inundated with kids and all of their creative expressions in a street fair. Streets were blocked off, sidewalks littered with pencil drawings and four year olds in line at the coffee shop- it was just all too much. The only people interested in attending a kids art fair are people with kids. Unless I actually had a child (and I don't) who happens to have a drawing on display, or am a teacher required to attend, I find kids art fairs boring as hell.

I love kids- the way they think and speak and know, but as far as dealing with other people's kids I'm so not into it. And while we're on the subject of kids, let me add that I could care less about receiving baby pictures week after week of my friends newborn; hearing about their every noise, spit-up, nuance or milestone for weeks and months after that. One photo is enough. Other people's kids are like other people's dreams; I don't care to hear about them.

Neverland

An island and dream world; a metaphor for eternal childhood, immortality and escapism. Sounds perfect to me. Neverland may be a fictional place but I'd give anything to go hang out with Peter and those Lost Boys tonight, and any other time when I just can't seem to make sense out of my world-which happens way to often.

I know it's not a good thing when I revert back to my childhood to escape 'adulthood' or consciously avoid talking steps in my life just to stay put on my imaginary island, but it's so damn easy to do. I'm all about ease- ease, convenience and sereneness... and island life. Everything was so simplistic and easy when I was a kid, I had the world at my little fingertips. It all seemed to go awry as soon as finger painting became a skill of the past. When the braces came off things were looking up, but then sexuality came flying in- like a U.F.O. Unidentified says it all.

These days I seem to be struggling with the final push to either grow up or continue to stay on my island forever. I've conveniently enough, managed to create a way for myself to get off the island whenever needed; kick into adult mode to deal with adult situations, conversations, decisions, transactions and confrontations- that's no problem, and I actually do it quite well. The problem is that whenever I step off the island and hit the main land to deal with whatever I need to deal with, my desire to hop right back on that boat and sail away is imminent. Take me away from responsibility, finance, family, decisions and the doom of getting 'old'. I'll tell you this much, I've enjoyed my 30's and early 40's way more than my twenties-they sucked. Turning the actual 4-0, the night of, was torturous but it's been pretty blissful since then. Maybe that night I left one of my shoes back on the island; it may be time to go retrieve it once and for all- maybe that's the problem. I feel like I'm missing something here lately; missing a part of me that will feel OK on the mainland-forever. I fear if I step off and stay off, I will never be able to return. My 'spidey' sense says that's a bunch of crap, but it's still a fear so...

That Peter Pan bistro might be the perfect solution to feeling too adult these days. At least it's a step more mature (and safer) than an island filled with lost boys and fairies. Or maybe I should just go to drinking in Disneyland with goofy and the gang. Maybe that'll shake some sense into me.

passing thought

Wednesday morning- drinking coffee, trying to wake up, watching television with the volume down and thinking about pizza... I love pizza. I could eat it every day, but it's strange that I'm thinking about it now.

The best pizza anywhere, hands down is Pizzeria Regina's in Boston. Chicago Pizza sucks. Well, it doesn't suck if you like pizza six inches deep with enough cheese to fill your living room with. I prefer thin crust, good sauce, not too much cheese and some grease. Pizzeria Regina's is so good you don't need toppings but otherwise I like the veggies and pepperoni. My recommendation?, if you live anywhere near this place GO. You will not be disappointed.

Pee like a man

How nice would that be, to pee like a man. Think about it- there would be no more squatting, straddling, paper arranging or holding it. Just whip it out and let it fly. Sounds good to me, it's a hell of a lot easier and way more convenient (and I'm all over that). Now I'm not saying I want to be a man, just maybe pee like one if needed.

The other night I was pulled into a conversation about women peeing while standing. I think it came up because someone was talking about going camping and using this. Unfortunately I missed the intro about using the tool, so when I joined the conversation I thought they were discussing women who simply choose to stand while urinating (hate that word) and found the subject quite interesting. I had known about this phenomenon being quite popular in the lesbian community because of the 'wanting to be a man' fetish and I had heard about the using the tool because of sanitary reasons but I was unaware of any straight women having the urge to stand. The particular women I was hanging out with were gay but some of them wanted to actually not have to use the tool at all; they wanted to know if it was possible to learn how to do it with 'direction'. Now why they were asking me I have no idea; I wasn't offering any advice or speaking from experience just giving support, but it got me thinking.

The tools used for this act range from a paper disposable kind to a funnel type plastic thing. The more I think about it the more inviting it sounds but I don't want to be carrying around a pack of anything in my pocket or on my body except maybe gum so it's out for me. Except if I had to go camping, then I'm in. The funny thing is I could totally see myself keeping a stash of them in my glove compartment for those disgusting restroom visits on road trips or just road trips in general- hell who needs a restroom if I got one of these. So the funnel thing is one thing but doing it without anything is whole other issue.

So I'm throwing the concept out there for you all to ponder- peeing while standing- with or without the tool. What are your thoughts , concerns, feelings or experiences. Inquiring minds want to know...

early to bed

Going here tonight for a fundraiser for this group. It always feels a little odd when there's a relatively organized soiree at a sex toy shop because the atmosphere at such a place is anything but cocktail like. There will be wine and cheese served, but as far as keeping the conversation generic? that's like saying you're going to walk into a florist and not smell anything, it just doesn't happen. Interesting how a bunch of strangers can go from ground zero to seventh heaven in seconds flat but that's the deal. Personally, I have an issue with talking about something as intimate as sex with someone I have no connection to what so ever. But on the other hand... talking about something so detailed as which toy you prefer and why, with someone I'm attracted to is a whole other ball game. I'm an exceptional listener.

Sex (the actual act) is such a murky subject- some people are freaks about it, so many people have issues about it, some people are prudes about it, some people use it as a tool, others use it as a language, some people could care less about it and some people jut plain fucking enjoy it-in a nice, desirable way. I only care to talk about it, do it, listen to it and watch it when there's no creepiness going on in it. You know, weird, creepy bizarro stuff-it's fucking freaky. There's a fine line between sexy and 'all about sex'.

Anyway, tonight should fun, I know there will be enough to drink because we are in charge of picking up the supply of wine. As far as the other stuff goes, like I said "I'm an excellent listener". Sex, wine, women and cheese- sounds like a perfect evening to me.

THE AFTERNOON AFTER: Excellent night. Lots of wine, cheese, women and fun conversation... just as I had hoped. Topics that came up were peeing while standing, the Gay Pride Parade and being in it this year instead of watching it, vibrators being too loud, my body, Amy Ray, and how delicious the cheese was. It was a pretty normal night considering the scenery- penises as far as the eye could see...

an "inconvenient" joke

A joke? It's a fucking joke. I'm laughing all way over to my CD cabinet to pick out every single one of her discs and put them in a drawer somewhere; it's all I can do, it's not like I can call her up and tell her she sucks or "good one Sheryl, you fooled the world". The fact that she said what she did knocks her down a peg or five, in my book. You don't make jokes about important stuff going on in the world at a time that you want people to listen up- any SANE person would know that. A couple of things are going on now with Crow: she totally lost whatever 'coolness' she had going for her with that joke and she's making herself look like weak sauce because she stole the fucking joke from her buddy's husband, Larry David.

As I said before, there's too much craziness in the world these days to be saying stupid things-leave that up to those who never make sense. Sheryl Crow is the only one who knows why she chose to make that joke, she had her reasons. All I'm saying is that she's not the most influential person in the world so there's a fine line between popularity and poop. Good luck to her after this stupid move.

another one bites the dust

I hate when people I admire, for whatever reason, do or say something that makes me feel like I'm living in a cartoon: my heel brakes go on, I create some smoke, stop dead in my tracks and scratch my head in total confusion. It happened today and I feel like I'm still scratching my head- it's bizarro. With all the craziness going on in the world these days, I like to rely on the few sane people I know to help me remain still with the notion that not not everyone has completely lost their capability to think rationally and I can continue to trust what's out there-generally speaking. But when one of the assumed 'sane' ones sheds some outer skin and reveals another side of themselves (the gray side) I begin to feel like I'm now living in some sort of horror flick where a state of fear could rule my world if I left my house.

I knew as soon as everyone started to zero in on the fact that the dude from Virginia Tech, who felt he needed to kill everyone in sight, had a "mental illness", the effect of this was going to take on an amorphous meaning. The chaos of it all has now unfortunately seeped its way into the basements, hallways, front doors and living rooms of everyone in America (I can't speak for those of you internationally) and it's quite unsettling to say the least. When people don't understand what they're talking about and react out of fear, their words turn into toxic energy. The guy was crazy... not such an unbelievable feat for someone like that, but we as a society we can't go there. It's too much. There's a huge ripple effect going on from last weeks event that is coming out in many forms, one of which I felt today. This news actually has nothing to do with what happened in Virginia, but for some reason there feels like a recurring theme going on these days. And while it may have always been well contained in Hollywood, it also leaks out every now and then. For good reasons, Sheryl Crow has joined the global warming awareness movement. Great, this is fine, we need more influential, powerful people to hop on the green train, unfortunately it looks as though Sheryl has lost her mind along the way. The rock star has officially gone on record by saying she thought we could preserve some trees by proposing a ban on how many squares of toilet paper we are allowed to use each time we use the bathroom. What?! Oh no, here we go with the crazy talk from someone I thought was pretty much sane. Limiting toilet paper use?, come on now, that's silly talk. She said "I think we are an industrious enough people that I think we can make it work with only one square per restroom visit, except of course, on those pesky occasions where two to three could be required". Two to three? shit, I'd be doomed. I get where she's coming from but is she serious? Now Sheryl is an intelligent, successful woman and she's making statements like this. What the fuck is going on.

I used to like Sheryl Crow, she rocked. Now she wobbles, like the rest of the world. Sometimes I think I'd rather live inside a cartoon life where it's safe. At least Bugs Bunny was sane.

tampons and wine

For reasons I won't go into, I wasn't feeling my best on Tuesday. To attempt to shake myself from my funk I decided to get some air and go for a run since that always makes me feel better. I ended up at the grocery store because I remembered we needed some fucking tampons (not the reason for not feeling my best) and a grapefruit. On my way over to the tampon aisle I passed up a beautiful display of wine and decided I really wanted to have some for a little later that evening. I grabbed a bottle of Merlot and headed to the self check out. As I swiped the wine the siren went off, as it always does when liquor goes through, but I proceeded to put my the wine in the bag and wait for a clerk to come over to check on me. When she asked for my I.D. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my credit card and three bucks, but no I.D. I froze for a second because I thinking about how much I really wanted that wine but quickly snapped out of it and told her I just came from running so no, I don't have my I.D. (assuming she would say no problem and let me slide by) I stood there with my 'please can I have this wine face' on staring at her but all I got in response was "Sorry" - I was in shock. "Really?" I said, "I'm in here every day!" (getting angry) "I'm sorry", she said again. Now I was furious because not only did I really wanted that fucking wine but I'm legal! I'm 43 fucking years old! Plus I was upset to begin with because I was having issues all day with not getting what I want, and they never card me in this place so WHY NOW, WHY TODAY! My voice got louder, I starting to make a scene with my questions when I glanced around and noticed people starting to stare. I figured I better get a grip and shut up, which I did. I didn't want the old ladies and little kids thinking I had some kind of problem.

I did have a problem: I'm 43 and I look like I'm 23- what the hell. I can't really blame the cashier woman, I mean I had my Red Sox knit scull cap on, my Adidas pants, no make up on and a desperate look on my face. Anyway, I walked out with my grapefruit and tampons feeling like I just wanted to sit down and burst into tears when it started to rain- heavily. It opened up the second I walked outside, just my luck- I gave up. I slowed my pace down, held the tears back and proceeded to walk home. I wasn't happy with how I reacted to the woman telling me 'no', but I was really angry that It was just one more thing, as minor as it was, of something I wanted and couldn't have. It's been the theme for the week and it sucked.

But I did manage to get myself some wine later that day and enjoy every last fucking drop. And I learned to never leave the house anymore without my I.D because you just never know when you're going to need those tampons... and wine.

Note: I don't use o.b.

hottie

This one's for Afunt. Happy Friday...

retro chic (maybe)

Here's the deal: I have this 'old school', club chair I want to clean up and make presentable but I don't know where to start. I think the thing is from the 1950's and I just can't throw it away because I think it's cool looking; plus it came straight from my basement where I spent most of my childhood, so I'm still attached. I managed to bring it all the way from Boston to Chicago but it has never actually made it inside any of our homes since then. It's been banished to the storage rooms from day one. C. Love has wanted to toss the thing for years now but I've managed to distract her from the process. I tried to sell it a couple of years ago by putting it out on the front lawn with some other huge items and throwing a sign on it, but no one seemed interested. I don't actually blame them, I mean the thing looks a little beat up and yes-old, so unless you have an eye for design or the ability to see the potential in something, you might just pass it off as a piece of junk.

I saw it today when I decided to put the shovel away for the winter (huge leap of faith, but whatever). It was shoved in the corner with some boxes on it. I picked it up, fixed the rubber type slats on the seat, rearranged the cushions and sat down. It was confirmed once again just how much I love the look and the feel of this damn chair! It's got a wooden frame, a seat cushion and a back cushion-that's it. All I think I need to do is reupholster the cushions, clean up the wood, buy some new slats and I'm good to go. The cushions are foam and the have a cover that can be taken off, it's kind of low to the ground and perfect for lounging. I've never done any of this type of stuff before, it's not that I'm opposed to it it's just that I've never had the desire. I'd rather buy new than fix up the old but in this case things are a little different.

So anyone out there know how to go about something like this? I'm looking for tips, details, wood info, upholstery info- the whole nine yards. Talk to me like I'm five and take it slow. I've been told to fix it up first and then we'll see if it is presentable enough to come inside. I need some help.

take my advice

It was just picked as the beer of the month. I couldn't agree more but it's been my beer of the month for the last two months. I'm just saying...

here we go...

I don't care if you're a baseball fan or not. Whether you are a Red Sox fan, a Cubs fan, a Giants fan, a Braves fan, a Yankees fan, a White Sox fan or a Dodgers fan; the next 6-7 months are the best months of the year. Baseball not only signifies the kickoff to summer, but more importantly it's a time period loaded with the little stuff that feels huge. It's hot and steamy night games under the lights, the sound of the game on the radio on a Saturday afternoon, whiffle ball in the back yard, little league, big dreams, the simplicity of peanuts and popcorn, a fast ball, the home run, the grand slam, the feeling of home field advantage, the indescribable energy of Fenway Park, the last out, summer vacation, staying in because the game's on, tradition and faith.

So here's to Baseball season 2007. May those of you who enjoy the game, have fun and for those of you who could care less... well, good luck, it's a long season ahead of us. Cheers!

going with the flow

I've tried the sex thing, the avoidance thing, the full throttle thing, the anger thing, the depression thing. I've held the "I don't care" attitude for an extended period of time, as well as remaining in the protective mode and 'being in the moment' much longer than I should have. When it comes right down to it, I've learned the only way to deal with anything is to face it-head on. At least for me. Distraction only works for so long.

For the last week or so I've been, what I called stuck in the 'pause' state. What that meant for me was I was waiting on a bunch of things, all of which were out of my control and all of which were emotionally charged. I was semi-released on Thursday only to immediately be placed in the so called waiting room once again. I spent last week struggling with family issues, all which were precipitated by my dad's unstable decision to have heart surgery. I also struggled with all the fucking angst that goes along with being a freelance writer, while I waited for my potential proposals to be accepted... or rejected. I finally received two 'thanks but no thanks' on the freelance gigs and a definate date for my dad's surgery, so I moved on from the potential of shifting my life as far as the work thing goes and concentrated on the family issue. That was Tuesday.

Tuesday night: after much consideration and distress, I made the decision to go home and be with my dad and family for this operation. Mostly because it's kind of risky as well as serious but I also just didn't want to have to regret anything, if you know what I mean. I made the reservation on Tuesday night and headed for the airport on Thursday morning. We left the house at 5:15 a.m. and then got a call at 5:30 that the surgery had been cancelled. Once again, there was nothing I could do except turn the car around, go home and wait for another date. Wait, and wait to resume my life... again. That's exactly what I did and have been doing since then. I arranged to get off of work, but I went back to work; I packed and unpacked; I payed for a flight and then tried to get my money back; I got some of my writing proposals rejected and then decided to try again with another angle; I struggled with not feeling OK, then figured out why and dealt with that instead.

Now I've already dealt with the issues that come up with me around my family, the issues that come up with having an ill parent, the issues that come up with rejection, and the issues that come up with not being in control. In all of this, just tonight I was doing the dishes and I was thinking about when people are told they have (blank) amount of days, weeks, months or years left to live. What then? How the hell do these people feel? Talk about going with the flow... shit.

I like to plan ahead, I like to be informed, I like to know what's going on so when I can't or don't I move through life like a caged in lion. I'm full of emotion, angry as hell, silent from exhaustion and ready to make my move as soon as I get released. My friend e-mailed me in the middle of my trying to book a flight home on Tuesday night. I was telling him about what was going on and that I was worried about my Dad. He simply e-mailed back and said "don't worry, everything will be fine with your Dad. Besides, your tough". Yeah, I forget sometimes. Then I got some other advice from a friend within the same 15 minutes that thankfully woke me up from my comatose state. She pretty much just said go, no matter what. I also knew that, but sometimes what we know gets lost in the shuffle of life. I'm good now. I had a good weekend and I'm ready to proceed with whatever comes my way... whatever.

warm weather woes

Weather: 74 and sunny
Time: 11:00- 3:00 on a Sunday
Problem: It's 74 degrees on a Sunday afternoon in March

What the hell am I talking about? Here's the deal. For some unexplained reason whenever it's warm out and feels like summer in the springtime people tend to get OUT OF CONTROL. Whether it was the lake front, the grocery store or my neighborhood, everywhere we went today we were surrounded by too many people. Because of it and because of the fact that I can't continue on with my evening unless I make some sense of this, here's my list of the top ten most annoying things that surface when the weather starts to gets warm.

1. Public displays of affection. I don't like seeing anyone make out in public, it's gross and it's weird.

2. Lack of clothing. People dressing like it's 112 degrees in August when it's only 74 in March. It's warm, not hot.

3. Nudity.

4. Open car windows. I don't have any desire to hear someone else's music especially when it sucks. and especially when the punk behind the wheel is just that... a punk-ass kid.

5. Droves of people. For some reason, the warm weather is a magnet for anyone who either
a) hasn't been out of their house all winter long or
b) has never been to a grocery store, to actually attempt to shop. WHAT THE FUCK. It's like people think 'oh, it's nice out so I must go get some food'...

6. Kids. Warm weather gives kids and teens a license to raise their voices 10 decimal's higher than they usually would, yell uncontrollably, scream as if someones murdering them, carry on conversations as if everyone was hard of hearing and take up space where they don't belong. They are annoying and obnoxious.

7. Sunburns. It's warm out, the sun is hot, you are as white as a ghost because you haven't seen the light of day in three solid months and you think you can lay out for five hours and not get burned??!! Come on now, you look silly.

8. Air conditioners. I hate them all the time anyway but when I hear an air conditioner being put on as soon as the temp hits 70, somethings wrong.

9. Bad Smells. It has to do with open windows and personal hygiene...

10. Strangeness. I don't understand it but the warm weather brings out everyone and everything, and that's cool I guess- but I'm just saying...

Tonight we head out to watch the finale of The L Word. Should be an interesting crowd, it's still 73 degrees outside.

pause and effect

The pause button has been hit, my life pause button. Without going into the details, I was just wondering how people deal with the waiting game; as I sit here and deal with mine. (laptop and beer)

I tend to usuallywant to either do things, like the dishes, cooking, physically move around or just the opposite and sit completely still with it. I did a little of both today. I happen to take the day off from work so I was able to do my waiting at home. It helps to have the comforts of home around when one waits, like your own bathroom, TV, food and beverage accessibility and the freedom to move around . I don't like feeling confined when I have to wait, that makes everything feel worse. I also prefer to wait alone... I think, I hate carrying on conversations, making small talk, playing board games or changing the subject just for the sake of changing the mood. I've waited in jury duty many times and that just sucks big time. I've waiting, as has everyone, in lines many times but as long as the line moves rapidly the angst of waiting doesn't set in too much. I've waited in hospitals: for a diagnosis, a release, a nurse, time to pass and all of that totally sucks- all of it, without a doubt. I've waited for the tide to come in which is a joy and I've waited for the snow to stop falling. We all wait for summer to arrive, our hair to grow or maybe our baby to be born, but it's the waiting within the waiting that's hard. It's waiting for the results, or the diagnosis or the decision. When I wait for something specific/immediate, I like to stand up but when I'm waiting for something that's going to take awhile (like a plane delay), I prefer to sit down with a newspaper. Right now I'm in neither.

Today, tonight, tomorrow and maybe for the rest of the week I get to wait for my life to be released from the pause state. You know when you're going along just fine with your little daily routine, making plans for your future, setting things up to go go your way, etc, etc, and then the pause button. It's not the stop button, just the pause which sometimes is harder to deal with. Anyway, while I wait to be released I'll go to work and carry on as usual, but instead of thinking ahead too far I'll sit in the moment. Even if the moment could turn into days.

So my question for the masses is how do you play the waiting game? (I obviously babble, which is very uncharacteristic of me.)

spring fling

Today is the type of day that if I was 7 I'd be dying to hear that last bell ring to be set free from the confines of the school yard. I can picture it as if it was yesterday. I would literally run home from school(it was only up the hill and round the corner); change into my "play clothes"; sit down at the kitchen table and devour a tasty snack that was set up by my mom; I would walk the dog and then immediately head outside to play. I couldn't wait to get outside and be 'one' with my yard.

Today was 70-something degrees and it felt like spring had sprung, if only to last the one day. On my run home I came across two little ones on my street: a 3 year old and a 4 yr old. They were on their front walk stumbling around as little ones do, riding their little cars and testing the boundaries with their mom -who sat a mere two steps away. I get kind of a lump in my throat (in a good way) every time I see little kids outside playing,whether they are playing with jump ropes, chalk, balls, skateboards, sticks, or anything else that looks old school or creative. I remember I didn't even need tools to amuse myself with when I was young. A good thick stick did wonders, as did dirt, bushes, the cracks in the sidewalk,the corner of my garage, any unidentified object in the grass, or simply the parameters of my back yard. Sure, I loved my pink banana seat bike,red skateboard and assortment of playground balls but my point is that it was being able to play outdoors that thrilled me, not my big wheel or hoola hoop.

I was just telling someone the other day that I remember being young and playing outside in March as if spring was well on it's way to quickly turning into summer. (geez, I sound like I'm 90) It's not so much like that anymore. Spring used to be a time for light windbreaker type jackets, new sneakers, Easter dresses (when I was two), and Saturdays filled with helping my Dad with putting the screens in the windows and my Mom with "spring cleaning". The weather from March-May was typically anywhere from 60-75 with no chance of it dipping back down to the 40's. These days we're lucky if we are able to shed the winter coat much before April and turn our heat off before May.

Spring screams youth, fresh air and crazy chalk drawings on the sidewalk. When I see a kid in my neighborhood walking around bouncing a ball, or playing hide-n- seek with their buddies it makes me happy. So does 73 degrees in march- old school, there's just nothing like it.

reality bites

Well, it's back to regularly scheduled programming. My trip to the Bahamas was not only a vacation in paradise but all I keep thinking was how much of an escape it was- an escape from reality and it's something I'm having a hard time letting go of.

It's strange to completely remove yourself from your regular routine both physically and mentally but environmentally as well. To go from 20 degrees to 80 degrees in a matter of 3 hours is a bit overwhelming for me. And to go from programmed thinking to not having to actually think at all is mind blowing to say the least. The immediacy at which I settled into being in the Bahamas was ridiculous. From the second we walked off the plane and breezed into that tropical air I was immediately transformed. It's so easy for me to adapt to beach mentality and casual island living, it's like I was living as if I was part of The Blue Lagoon in a past life or something. As soon as we dropped the bags in the room , all was well. We ditched the shoes for flip flops, I threw on my bandana and we were out the door for a cocktail on the beach. Totally different in every single way from 5 hours prior. I was in a complete dream state the whole time I was there; it felt like I was present physically, because that warmth literally paralyzed me, but at the same time I felt somewhat removed mentally. I couldn't quite settle into being present which was bugging me but I'm thinking it just may have been way too overwhelming if I did- this is the stuff I think about all the time. Is there a way for the soul to be so alive but the mind completely shut off? I don't know but mine was for sure.

When we returned home I delayed contacting my family and checking my e-mail just to delay the inevitable: life doesn't stop when you go on vacation. It turns out my Dad had fallen down 4 steps in his house and fractured his hip and elbow while I was basking in the Bahama sun. It feels like he is completely falling apart and not only can I not do anything about it but the reality of aging parents has now completely entered this stage of my life. Do I head down to Cape Cod for a weekend to help my mom out? Do I just carry on with my life while my dad struggles to hold on to his? I feel guilt, sadness, anger, frustration and empathy. It's hard to not be able to take care of your parents when they need it when that's all they did for me when I was little. All they did was take care of me and love me. It would be nice to repay, even though I know it's not necessary.

Last week at this time we were getting drunk on the beach with not a care in the world except for the fact that it was our second to last day on the Bahamas. Oh, what I wouldn't give to have that back again.

6 days and 5 nights

In exactly one week from today for six days I will be able to:

Feel the warmth of the sun instead of the warmth of my radiator
Wear tank tops instead of fucking sweaters
Wear flip flops instead of fucking boots
Drink my morning coffee on the beach instead of my couch
Have cocktail hour outside instead of in my kitchen
Experience fresh air instead of forced heat
Feel loose instead of tight
Run on the beach instead of the pavement
Breathe instead of shiver
Drink, eat and drink instead of drink- cook and then eat... and drink
Experience instead of react
Write instead of blog
Relax instead of work
Wear my bandanna instead of my wool scull cap

Watch the day turn into night instead of waiting for the day to turn into night and

Feel inspired instead of tired

Next week at this time I'll be in the Bahamas... phew, bring it on.

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What the...

house rules part 2

Since my return comments to the last post were becoming a post in itself, I thought I would just continue with the stream of consciousness going on here- fuck it. First of all, as I write this I have bare feet and just for the record, my shoes are off of my feet (most of the time) as soon as soon as I enter my own house. Especially if it's either wet , muddy, snowing or raining outside- I don't go beyond the front door. I don't want anyone out there feeling like they have to defend the fact that they enjoy walking around without shoes on-I could actually care less what the hell you do in the privacy of your own home.

Bottom line here: what I do care about and what I was trying to convey is that I think it's impolite to impose your own habits/views/ "house rules" on anyone else- especially if they are your guest. It's weird to see people with socks or slippers on while entertaining- come on now.

So that brings me to another one of my rules which is the issue of overnight/weekend guests and how to treat them...
DO NOT invite anyone to 'stay with you' unless you can accommodate them with most or preferably all of these things:
1. Their own separate towels
2. Their own bathroom
3. Real sugar
4. A beer or wine or soda or something besides tap water
5. Extra pillows
6. No set schedule
7. Coffee and tea
8. A guest room free of strange smells, weird sheets, baby, animal and kids toys
9. kids that understand the meaning of "boundaries"
10. Pets that do not have a need to sleep with strangers
11. The house computer -but anywhere other than where the guests sleep
12. The freedom to 'sleep in'
13. Reading material
14. The option to use small sample type toiletries that the you(as the host) provides
15. A night out to dinner-with or without you
16. A hairdryer
17. A mirror in the guest bedroom
18. A television
19. No sense of, "oh, so that's what they're like" In other words- adults who understand the word "boundries"
20. Space