Oh Girls...

ignore that it is a commercial

Thanks Google Again

Happy birthday, Ada.

Now there's a mathematician worth emulating.

Screw her crazy family.

Oh, and best wishes to all sharing a December birth.

Still can't wait for this wretched month to be over.

Overtime Money

Not much can keep me from last night's Project Runway; but since I purposely skipped the vice presidential debate I figured I would very, very briefly take a peek this morning.

Ryan does resembled Eddie Munster and made me want to punch him in his hypocritical face.  Biden did the snarky giggling bit overboard and made me want to punch him in his just almost pompous face. 

But Martha!!!  Martha was the Queen of the Evening!  I bet she wanted to punch both of the boys several times.  She kept her composure and her professional behavior.  Makes me wonder who should really be the candidate and who should be sent back to Speech 101 Class.

And now off to Mr. Gunn.  Another with impeccable manners.

Goodbye September

Lately I've been thinking of great names for blog titles.

 Not having much success developing the blog posts themselves.

I've changed many routines around my home.  For the better I hope.

Fighting years of bad habits is more than just difficult.

Especially now that so many words and speech abilities are apparently lost to me.

Frightening and threatening.

Ah, yes.

Carry on after all.

Another month to attempt.

This late bloomer thing is killing me.

Too late to be a Renaissance Woman without any special learning?

Then I found the above.

Perhaps in the nick of time.

And so, I am creating memorabilia (until I think of a better name for them) for the important special folk in my life.

Meaning to me, and hopefully to them.

Letting go of ridiculous rules and using the time available.

If this is my adulthood I will continue to do the best I have.

Truly grateful for what I have.

Challenged by what comes with each day.

Victory has a new definition.

Welcome October.

Go Mombasa!

Kenyan high court allows lesbian marriage.

Now it will be totally allowed when it is called

MARRIAGE!

Proud To Say WOMAN

Humbled

Sometimes I think if I had to pick just one female singer to listen to forever it would be k d lang.

Good Morning

Dandelion = Rustic Oracle

Now to the laundry...

Ha Ha Ha Ha!

What a great way to end the work week!

Up And Attem

• Flipped the clock
• Little Red Hen
• Sad dead ficus
• "Countertop" sun tea
• Postcard project
• Oriental Trading
• Shiny pink pig
• Future cactus
• Choking on lime jello
• Dandy dreams of brothers and movie stars
• Excellent reading material
• Scented candles
• How much do I hate coffee breath?
• I didn't know they were called "mood boards"
• Toenails
• Slipshod correspondent
• Love that carpet sweeper!
• Schemes and Themes tonight!  Alas Subterranean may be no more
• Chicken salad

Whatever Happened To...

It helps that I know almost nothing about soccer.  And so I come to this video with the eyes of the beginner.  I have no idea what it means and I do not care to learn.  I see no google fest in my future. (OK I did watch the "She Wolf" video a time or two. How can anyone bend that way?)  But I got to thinking, whatever happened to Shakira?

If she's not young and gorgeous anymore I hope that she is fat and still sexy as hell and having a marvelous time.  She can always look back on videos like this one.  Hopefully she knows what all the words mean.  To me, 'waka waka' will always belong to Fozzie bear and my father.  Two of the world's funniest creatures.

Love the bracelets.  Love all the cute sweaty soccer boys.  Love that she's got pom poms in her hair.  And the clothes on the dancers are sensational, too.

Fashion Nincompoop

Along with everything else, I envision myself as one of the great undiscovered fashion stylists of our time.  Being the relic that I am, and the self-proclaimed arbiter of good taste, and that I have frequently been labelled "all talk and no action" I can pretty much say whatever I want.  Slowly but surely I am closing my ears when that nagging childhood voice leaps in criticising every choice I make.

Gaining self confidence is tricky when most of one's developmental stages have already been achieved.  Still, it is a battle I choose to fight.  And I can hear the snide chuckling in the background.  Hopefully there will be enough "big words" in this post so that those saboteurs will be completely confused.  Anyway, I like to tell myself that I am gaining ground.  At least I know my choices are mine.

As a young lady I kind of missed out on fashion.  I was (and am to this day) the quintessential Fat Girl.  I cannot remember buying clothes off the rack; I sped past the available sizes in area department stores quite rapidly.   Luckily for me, Mommy Dearest was an accomplished seamstress and so I did have something of a wardrobe.

Skirts were required at church, of course, and at school too for most of my adolescence.  The dress code was relaxed for my final two years of high school.  These years were the transition from hosiery to panty hose.  Both were nightmares for fat girls.  Hosiery required girdles and garters and twisting stockings over bulging knees.  Panty hose could be sliced in two: one side of one pair yanked up on the right.  The other side from the other pair yanked up on the left.  A tight squeeze  but at least the crotch landed in the right place.  When a run or snag appeared, the damaged leg, so to speak, could be changed out for a leg from one of the remaining cut up pairs.

Runs were the death knell for stockings and panty hose.  Clear nail polish or hair spray could sometimes halt the progression of the run.  Or the ruined leg could be twisted even further so the (runned? ran?) area with the run was positioned on the inside of one's leg and would be further camouflaged by taking very small steps.  In any case a good girl, a nice girl, a stylish girl did NOT let herself be caught with runs in her stockings.  Which is why I've been so surprised to see photos like this:

This one is from the Sartorialist but Zana Bayne favors this look also.  And, I amaze myself sometimes, I don't hate it.  It makes me wish I could do my teens and twenties over again.  Im-poss-ee-blay!  I know.  I also can't help but wonder (thanks, Carrie) what their mothers must think.

501

Today is definitely an orange jello kind of day.  Sparkly, jiggly.  Transparent, yet coloring everything with a pleasant glow.  WWWwwwhhhaaaat?!  This from me?  One of the grumpiest women in America.

Yes indeed.

I finished another book by Fannie Flagg and it just made me smile.  She's not one of the great authors of our time but she writes about good strong women. (Bing!)  And though her plots are rather formulaic and everything always comes to an overwhelmingly happy ending... Screw it.  Not every book has to be so damn serious.

And I will be forever grateful to an author who gave me Evelyn Couch and now Maggie Fortenberry.  Thanks, Ms. Flagg.  And I hope you have a lovely day, too.

Read This

This novel was not an actual recommendation.  Baby Sister mentioned it during a phone conversation about another topic.  I wrote down the title as I was trolling for new authors at the time.  And I liked the cover.  I'm old.  Trust me, the cover matters!

When Library Guy brought my last sack of books I shuffled this one to the bottom.  It was heavier than expected; so I didn't want it to be one I lugged to the laundry room.  My laundry is enough of a load. Yikes!  Puns this early in the day hurt my head.  And three of my reserved books were authors I love and they, of course, ranked higher on my list.

Well, I consumed this book in three marathon readings.  Broken only to visit my new grandson and renew prescriptions.  Yummy!  I will say I figured out some of the "punchlines" but I was thrilled when the plot twisted in ways I had not anticipated.  A wholehearted recommendation from yours truly.  Those of you who can read, understand, and spell words of more than two syllables, and I realize not all of you have those abilities, should hunt down a copy of this book.

 I am so sorry the author is dead.

And So I

Gathered together all the books for Library Guy

Made three new hair clips

Found a dazzling new afghan pattern

Phoned Baby Sister

Listened to a strange animal noise outside my bedroom

Addressed envelopes

Pondered the "Kerry Weaver" crutch as a possibility

Drooled over the chicken taquito fragrance from the mainentance guy's lunch

Took some photos as my ficus slowly gives up the ghost

Crocheted just a little

Cleaned the top of my dresser

Organized photos in the ultimate photo box

Stayed very quiet

These Would Totally Be My Lines

AND



AND

If I can ever find Vivi's confessional scene from "Divine Secrets of the YaYa Sisterhood" that would go right here.

Skip the commercials.

To be continued.

Recycle/Upcycle

Dancing Daughter emailed this photo to me last week.

Little beauties in some of her old recital costumes.

They don't quite have the cleavage; but I spy a  Hollywood smile in there.

Mint Mint Mint Mint Mint Mint

Hold my tongue.
Please.
How I wish someone would apply for that job.
Low pay, no  benefits.
Hold my tongue.
Becoming more and more difficult for me to accomplish on my own.
There's just been too damn much gettin' away with things,
bendin' the truth of things,
changin' the rules of things,
breakin' innocent hearts and things.
All you bitches deserve and desperately need a good smack down.
Lucky for you I am still holding my tongue.

Drain

Another week of beautiful weather.
Outside.
Where I rarely go.
Pain is such an inhibitor.
Fear also.
The breeze is incredibly enticing and windows are open wide.
I share what I can.
I am grateful.
Yes.
I am grateful.
A week on the blasted cell phone.
Trying to make contact.
Trying to understand.
Trying for answers.
Trying.
Trying is exhausting.
Especially when there is nothing to show for it.
This state of affairs masquerades as laziness or lassitude.
The fight begins before I am out of bed.
That doesn't count.
No space on the score card.
Get over it.
Go on.
Go.

Let The Boys Have The Dance Floor

But Damn!

Those Girls can SANG!!!