Yay! Summer heat, sunshine and more skin after a long bone chilling bleak Winter. Move over Oprah, here are my favorite things for Summer. My Summer must haves and wants for all to enjoy and desire.
Above ground pool. Awesome, easy blow up ring, fill with water and chemicals plug in the pump and you have paradise in your back yard. Already have a pool? Then do get the inflatable floaty with the high back and cup holder. Also awesome.
Open weave straw cowboy hat with chin strap. The open weave lets the air flow through and you get shade from the brim. The chin strap really isn't all that attractive but it keeps it on my head when I mow on windy days.
Parasol. No joke. An honest to god parasol or light colored umbrella for shade. Yeah, people laugh and stare at first then they just envy you while they stand all sweaty and hot in the blazing sun. I'm prone to heat stroke so the relief of a little portable shade is wonderful.
Fancy lace evening shawl. I like to wrap a lace evening shawl around my hips like a sarong when I wear a swim suit. The fringe is sexy and it makes a statement. Something a little extra instead of the same old over sized T-shirt or terrycloth cover up.
Home made ice tea with fresh mint. No explanation necessary.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Thursday, May 26, 2011
He has good insurance and I'm still cute
I had one of those mornings where I felt like I should be on high alert. Sure enough the humid swirling winds and the weather alerts were converging to make for a tornado possible day. We live like this here in tornado alley. You just plan your day around where you are going to hide if they form.
We did everything we needed to in the city before the day really heated up. My husband seemed almost disappointed when the weather seemed to just stay ominous and black. I was half hopeful it would be nothing. I was wrong.
While sauteing up some onions , peppers and mushrooms to top the hoagies I made, the sirens shrieked out. I clicked off the stove, grabbed my purse and the dog and scampered down into the storm cellar. That is what rational, clear thinking, sensible people do in tornado alley. Not my husband.
Apparently he is smarter and faster than any tornado. While I hauled myself and poodle underground he dashed outside with the camera. In a moment of testosterone fueled whatthefuckery, he went outside to try and get a photo op with a tornado.
The moments ticked by and the wind outside got more violent, the thunder booms became one continuous churning roll and the volleys of hail more intense against the garage door (our storm shelter is in the garage.) Still no husband. The poodle cowered on my lap and I don't know who was shaking more the dog or myself.
The power went off and with just the small flashlight I waited....no husband. My blood pressure began escalating. My thoughts briefly light on the fact that some tornado deaths are from strokes caused by fear and stress. Then the lights come on again.
"Hey you want some light?" He said cheerfully down the cellar hole. "Is it over?" I asked, hearing my voice break and quaver like a small frightened child. " Yeah, I watched it on TV while I ate my hoagie." He replied.
I sat very close to him on the couch after crawling out of the storm cellar, still shook up and nervous. He thought it would be really fun to take my blood pressure and then his to see who was worse. Mine was elevated but his beats were faster.
It is times like these I'm glad he has good insurance and I'm still cute.
We did everything we needed to in the city before the day really heated up. My husband seemed almost disappointed when the weather seemed to just stay ominous and black. I was half hopeful it would be nothing. I was wrong.
While sauteing up some onions , peppers and mushrooms to top the hoagies I made, the sirens shrieked out. I clicked off the stove, grabbed my purse and the dog and scampered down into the storm cellar. That is what rational, clear thinking, sensible people do in tornado alley. Not my husband.
Apparently he is smarter and faster than any tornado. While I hauled myself and poodle underground he dashed outside with the camera. In a moment of testosterone fueled whatthefuckery, he went outside to try and get a photo op with a tornado.
The moments ticked by and the wind outside got more violent, the thunder booms became one continuous churning roll and the volleys of hail more intense against the garage door (our storm shelter is in the garage.) Still no husband. The poodle cowered on my lap and I don't know who was shaking more the dog or myself.
The power went off and with just the small flashlight I waited....no husband. My blood pressure began escalating. My thoughts briefly light on the fact that some tornado deaths are from strokes caused by fear and stress. Then the lights come on again.
"Hey you want some light?" He said cheerfully down the cellar hole. "Is it over?" I asked, hearing my voice break and quaver like a small frightened child. " Yeah, I watched it on TV while I ate my hoagie." He replied.
I sat very close to him on the couch after crawling out of the storm cellar, still shook up and nervous. He thought it would be really fun to take my blood pressure and then his to see who was worse. Mine was elevated but his beats were faster.
It is times like these I'm glad he has good insurance and I'm still cute.
Friday, May 13, 2011
Magic button
I was doing something really important online (playing online games) when my husband asked me to do him a favor.
Could you sew this button on tighter to these shorts? He asked handing me the shorts.
No. I said. Much to his surprise.
What?! he asked with one eyebrow raised in disapproval and mirth.
You need to buy bigger pants. It isn't a magic button. Sewing it back isn't going to counteract a lifetime of bad choices. I said (while ducking out of reach from the tickling that would be sure to follow for my insolence.)
I wont be baking anymore cookies for you woman! ( The ultimate punishment)
Fine. I said. However, I did sew his button on. (Thus salvaging my cookie privileges.)
Oh thanks hun. He replied and thoughtfully said to the air. Maybe I should eat less cookies too.
Could you sew this button on tighter to these shorts? He asked handing me the shorts.
No. I said. Much to his surprise.
What?! he asked with one eyebrow raised in disapproval and mirth.
You need to buy bigger pants. It isn't a magic button. Sewing it back isn't going to counteract a lifetime of bad choices. I said (while ducking out of reach from the tickling that would be sure to follow for my insolence.)
I wont be baking anymore cookies for you woman! ( The ultimate punishment)
Fine. I said. However, I did sew his button on. (Thus salvaging my cookie privileges.)
Oh thanks hun. He replied and thoughtfully said to the air. Maybe I should eat less cookies too.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Dreaded Mother's Day
Somewhere in the world there really is a Norman Rockwell family with rosy cheeks gathering around a perfectly coiffed Mom, giving her delightful hand made gifts and breakfast in bed. And everywhere else are a bunch of bitter Mothers who never did get the star treatment they were deluded into expecting come Mothers Day.
Hallmark card commercials and constant barrages of ads for expensive jewelry and flowers raise the sense of entitlement even more. Worse still the pathetic hope that most overworked and underloved Moms harbor on the one day they are supposed to have off. One day...One frikin' day is supposed to make up for the neglect and disappointment that real life has dished out to you because you have a fully functioning vagina. What a gyp.
There ought to be a law that Moms get a mother's weekend every week. I think women in general would be happier and less apt to be bummed out about the weak effort that Mothers Day really is. Moms worldwide would be so content and relaxed that wars would end and all tensions in the universe would recede.
Hallmark card commercials and constant barrages of ads for expensive jewelry and flowers raise the sense of entitlement even more. Worse still the pathetic hope that most overworked and underloved Moms harbor on the one day they are supposed to have off. One day...One frikin' day is supposed to make up for the neglect and disappointment that real life has dished out to you because you have a fully functioning vagina. What a gyp.
There ought to be a law that Moms get a mother's weekend every week. I think women in general would be happier and less apt to be bummed out about the weak effort that Mothers Day really is. Moms worldwide would be so content and relaxed that wars would end and all tensions in the universe would recede.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
OCD and me
I'm insane. Just a little. Not Charlie Sheen weapons grade crazy but enough that I notice other people are really...together. I arrange the clothes in the closet by color. Specifically rainbow pattern.White, red, orange yellow, green .blue, violet, grey and black at the end.
It's a great disorder to have when you work in retail. When I worked in a clothing store I arranged the clothing so nicely. Still do it. I have to fight the urge not to arrange when I am shopping at Target. Target, what a nightmare. Crack monkeys would do a better job of straighting the racks. Why people are such slobs in the clothing racks it a mystery to me. Really?! Do they live like that at home? Respect the merchandise. I think it is a chick thing.
I have never been in an automotive store and found it messy, never. Sometimes the mens department in the big stores gets mussed , but nothing like the disaster that you find in the ladies area. What is up with that? Shoes too. Mens shoes are like tidy rows of little soldiers. Womens show isle, like crack whores after the party.
My only defense as to why I do what I do is that at least in some small part of my world I feel like I have control. Everything else may be beyond my ability to manage and guide, but the clothes in my closet are serenely organized.
It's a great disorder to have when you work in retail. When I worked in a clothing store I arranged the clothing so nicely. Still do it. I have to fight the urge not to arrange when I am shopping at Target. Target, what a nightmare. Crack monkeys would do a better job of straighting the racks. Why people are such slobs in the clothing racks it a mystery to me. Really?! Do they live like that at home? Respect the merchandise. I think it is a chick thing.
I have never been in an automotive store and found it messy, never. Sometimes the mens department in the big stores gets mussed , but nothing like the disaster that you find in the ladies area. What is up with that? Shoes too. Mens shoes are like tidy rows of little soldiers. Womens show isle, like crack whores after the party.
My only defense as to why I do what I do is that at least in some small part of my world I feel like I have control. Everything else may be beyond my ability to manage and guide, but the clothes in my closet are serenely organized.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Chaos, and other feelings about remodeling
The sleeping poodle under my bed awoke with a start. First banging his head on the supports and then barking in maniacal abandon at the door bell. The contractors were early. A day early in fact. No matter, When you want to have your bathrooms updated you surrender to anything just to get it finished.
"Good Morning! You just get up? Har,har har!" They stomp past me with their big boots in a cloud of cigarette smoke to attack the next phase of tiling.
I find a cup of tea and try to piece myself together as the day unfolds with banging and grinding of saws and alternate billows of gypsum dust that come swirling down the hall way. I pause to wonder why the poodle adores these men. He fawns on them and grins a big doggy grin at them as they toil.
I walk passed the bent forms of contractors who are grouting away and try to avert my eyes at the twin ass cracks that smile up at me. This is my life and my landscape until the floors are done...
"Good Morning! You just get up? Har,har har!" They stomp past me with their big boots in a cloud of cigarette smoke to attack the next phase of tiling.
I find a cup of tea and try to piece myself together as the day unfolds with banging and grinding of saws and alternate billows of gypsum dust that come swirling down the hall way. I pause to wonder why the poodle adores these men. He fawns on them and grins a big doggy grin at them as they toil.
I walk passed the bent forms of contractors who are grouting away and try to avert my eyes at the twin ass cracks that smile up at me. This is my life and my landscape until the floors are done...
Monday, February 14, 2011
Confusing Love Messages
I adore Sweethearts candies. It is such a wonderful nostalgic feeling to tear open a familiar pink box of heart shaped candies. I really like to read the little love notes printed on them. The candies themselves aren't really yummy. Kind of reminiscent of dried toothpaste and grannies dinner mints really.
This year I tore open a box and found a few new sayings. " Friend Me" I guess it is a sign of the times. Net speak is pretty popular for Sweetheart logos." UR IT" Reading them made me feel kind of old. At least they taste better than I remember. They used to taste like chalk with powdered sugar.
I still like them. They evoke feelings of pure childlike tenderness and the untarnished belief in true love. Sadly, my box of candies reflected real life and like reality there were a few candies that had vague messages. Either the machine had missed the candy heart and printed just half a message or they were blurred out completely." ME" I guess that would be the narcissistic candy message.
I would like to invent a box of candy hearts that were funny. " Whatever" " U will Pay" " Mistake"" WHY"
I will buy them again next year and every Valentines after that because I still like to capture the flavour and sweetness of my childhood. I wish all of you Love.
This year I tore open a box and found a few new sayings. " Friend Me" I guess it is a sign of the times. Net speak is pretty popular for Sweetheart logos." UR IT" Reading them made me feel kind of old. At least they taste better than I remember. They used to taste like chalk with powdered sugar.
I still like them. They evoke feelings of pure childlike tenderness and the untarnished belief in true love. Sadly, my box of candies reflected real life and like reality there were a few candies that had vague messages. Either the machine had missed the candy heart and printed just half a message or they were blurred out completely." ME" I guess that would be the narcissistic candy message.
I would like to invent a box of candy hearts that were funny. " Whatever" " U will Pay" " Mistake"" WHY"
I will buy them again next year and every Valentines after that because I still like to capture the flavour and sweetness of my childhood. I wish all of you Love.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)