This is the day I finally fell in love with Pandora. It's playing me all the songs I wish I owned. We are grooving to my soul xmas station. Usually white people singing about Jesus rubs me the wrong way, but gospel is my weakness.
Merry merrrrry everyone.
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Monday, August 9, 2010
Tissue Box/ Tissue Tee
Since I am so picky about every item that takes up visual space in my home I grab the cardboard tissue boxes I like and horde them. I haven't seen any I like in ages, but a few years back there was a lovely black on white floral design from Puffs (my brand of choice). In a wall paper or upholstery fabric the pattern would be too traditional for my taste, but it works perfectly dotted around the house. (In the monkey house comfort zone tissues should always be within reach.) I'm ticked off with Puffs because they've changed the style of the Puffs Ultra from a wide U shaped opening to a narrow opening with a pop- tissue like Kleenex does. The stupid pop-up ones do not fit in my carefully preserved boxes that have been refilled regularly. Now I am stuck refilling with Puffs Plus with lotion. I do not want any stupid lotion in my tissues! D has complained that he can't use them to clean his glasses, and I hate the idea of anything extra where I don't want it. (Like lead and cadmium in my children's toys, artificial sweetners or flavors, etc.)
Go ahead. Mock me mercilessly for being the kind of person who really does save the better looking tissue boxes and restock them. I know. I know. It doesn't keep me awake at night, it doesn't weigh down the progress of mankind, or even significantly affect the quality of life here at the monkey house, but it pisses me off all the same. In the big picture the same thing happens every day. Every time I find anything I really like they stop making it. Sometimes it's gone before I even figure out how great it is. Sometimes I manage to stock up a bit. Other times I panic and try to by all I can — when this happens any already tenuous grip I may have on the concept of enough goes flying by faster than I can blink. (What IS enough anyway? More on that another time.) Last winter my quest for the super-thin, stretchy tee ended in victory at Target. I had a very battered, worn out collection from Gap Body dating back more than 6 years. I had the long & short sleeves, and a few tanks and camis. They've been falling apart as the 5% lycra disintegrates and I've worn them anyway. Why? Because they are the most useful, comfortable, essential layering piece there is. Never too bulky, never too tight. Perfect under everything, and great over my workout tank at the gym. So of course they stopped making them.
When I found the long sleeve tissue tee at Target I bought as many as I could. When I couldn't find them locally I bought a few more online. Early this spring I found the short sleeve ones, and again I went berserk. One week I got them on sale for $7.99. I'm not a fashionista, not a clothes horse, as my grandmother would say. I keep it simple. I wear black. Not elegant, understated, expensive black. Basic, practical black things that can take a beating from two five–year–old monkeys. I have been living in black jeans and black tees for as long as I can remember. People ask me why all the time. First I say that if they made clothes in colors I like I would buy them. This is true. (If they made the tissue tees in a dark purple or dark burgundy I would have bought a few of those. I bought some tees in those colors at the Gap last winter. When I wear them they are carefully hidden under all the other black things.) When they persist I explain that everything works together and it's easy to mix and match. That is also true, leaving out shape and length factors. But those are the quick and easy answers. The other true and quick answer is that my personality is loud enough, so my clothes don't have to be. Once I wore colors. Often they were colors I look terrible in, but I was crazy about them at the time. I've been black on black for at least 15 years now, and the longer I've done it, the more a part of my identity it's become. I have some very dark purple skinny jeans that I love. They are dark enough that it's hard to tell they are purple in dim light, and they pop outdoors. I love that I can shock people just by something as simple as wearing purple jeans. Other things I do shock people who don't know me. But people who know me well know what I'm capable of.
I lead a very unconventional life in the early days. So I yearned for the "normal" things. Living in the same place, same house same school, same parents, same siblings. As I got older I began to see how boring a person can be who's had all that. So while I wanted 2.5 kids and a comfortable home -- with a washer and dryer and a dishwasher -- I expected that my version would still have my unique spin on it. And never be just like everybody else. Never be ordinary.
Go ahead. Mock me mercilessly for being the kind of person who really does save the better looking tissue boxes and restock them. I know. I know. It doesn't keep me awake at night, it doesn't weigh down the progress of mankind, or even significantly affect the quality of life here at the monkey house, but it pisses me off all the same. In the big picture the same thing happens every day. Every time I find anything I really like they stop making it. Sometimes it's gone before I even figure out how great it is. Sometimes I manage to stock up a bit. Other times I panic and try to by all I can — when this happens any already tenuous grip I may have on the concept of enough goes flying by faster than I can blink. (What IS enough anyway? More on that another time.) Last winter my quest for the super-thin, stretchy tee ended in victory at Target. I had a very battered, worn out collection from Gap Body dating back more than 6 years. I had the long & short sleeves, and a few tanks and camis. They've been falling apart as the 5% lycra disintegrates and I've worn them anyway. Why? Because they are the most useful, comfortable, essential layering piece there is. Never too bulky, never too tight. Perfect under everything, and great over my workout tank at the gym. So of course they stopped making them.
When I found the long sleeve tissue tee at Target I bought as many as I could. When I couldn't find them locally I bought a few more online. Early this spring I found the short sleeve ones, and again I went berserk. One week I got them on sale for $7.99. I'm not a fashionista, not a clothes horse, as my grandmother would say. I keep it simple. I wear black. Not elegant, understated, expensive black. Basic, practical black things that can take a beating from two five–year–old monkeys. I have been living in black jeans and black tees for as long as I can remember. People ask me why all the time. First I say that if they made clothes in colors I like I would buy them. This is true. (If they made the tissue tees in a dark purple or dark burgundy I would have bought a few of those. I bought some tees in those colors at the Gap last winter. When I wear them they are carefully hidden under all the other black things.) When they persist I explain that everything works together and it's easy to mix and match. That is also true, leaving out shape and length factors. But those are the quick and easy answers. The other true and quick answer is that my personality is loud enough, so my clothes don't have to be. Once I wore colors. Often they were colors I look terrible in, but I was crazy about them at the time. I've been black on black for at least 15 years now, and the longer I've done it, the more a part of my identity it's become. I have some very dark purple skinny jeans that I love. They are dark enough that it's hard to tell they are purple in dim light, and they pop outdoors. I love that I can shock people just by something as simple as wearing purple jeans. Other things I do shock people who don't know me. But people who know me well know what I'm capable of.
I lead a very unconventional life in the early days. So I yearned for the "normal" things. Living in the same place, same house same school, same parents, same siblings. As I got older I began to see how boring a person can be who's had all that. So while I wanted 2.5 kids and a comfortable home -- with a washer and dryer and a dishwasher -- I expected that my version would still have my unique spin on it. And never be just like everybody else. Never be ordinary.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
46
Birthday fantasy granted. My day was everything I'd asked for and more.
Part one is on me: I want to wake up to a house that doesn't make me feel crazy. So I folded and put away all the laundry, scoured the stove top, mopped the kitchen floor and did a bit of general tidying.
Saturday:
I sleep in. This means Drew gets the monkeys out of our room right when they wake up, not an hour later after me getting up repeatedly and coaxing/bribing them to do something quiet in their rooms until "seven oh oh"
Part one is on me: I want to wake up to a house that doesn't make me feel crazy. So I folded and put away all the laundry, scoured the stove top, mopped the kitchen floor and did a bit of general tidying.
Saturday:
I sleep in. This means Drew gets the monkeys out of our room right when they wake up, not an hour later after me getting up repeatedly and coaxing/bribing them to do something quiet in their rooms until "seven oh oh"
I am served breakfast in bed. Waffles, bacon, tea. We open some presents that are really some t-shirts I bought for the monkeys. Then they go away and leave me with my tea and my latest clever murder mystery.
They leave. They run errands, go to playgrounds, buy food, whatever. Just stay gone long enough for me to get some gardening done without any monkeys underfoot.
After they return, I go out and get a pedicure, and hopefully a massage, although I've neglected to book one in advance.
While I'm out the monkeys and papa make my birthday cake - the best carrot cake ever.
We'll eat cake after monkey dinner, and after they go to bed we will have our dinner of some yummy Thai-ish chicken thing that Drew's so good at.
Sounds like a lovely day, doesn't it? Let's see how it goes.
They leave. They run errands, go to playgrounds, buy food, whatever. Just stay gone long enough for me to get some gardening done without any monkeys underfoot.
After they return, I go out and get a pedicure, and hopefully a massage, although I've neglected to book one in advance.
While I'm out the monkeys and papa make my birthday cake - the best carrot cake ever.
We'll eat cake after monkey dinner, and after they go to bed we will have our dinner of some yummy Thai-ish chicken thing that Drew's so good at.
Sounds like a lovely day, doesn't it? Let's see how it goes.
The day began with Leo crawling into bed and snuggling with me. Then he leaned over, kissed me and said "Happy birthday mama!" Well, needless to say, it doesn't get much better than that. He's going to make some lucky person a very fine boyfriend/husband.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
This Week's AWAD
desideratum
noun: Something considered necessary or desirable.
From Latin desideratum (something desired), from desiderare (to desire).
From Latin desideratum (something desired), from desiderare (to desire).
quiescence
noun: A state of rest, inactivity, or quietness.
From Latin quiescere (to become quiet), from quies (quiet).
noun: A state of rest, inactivity, or quietness.
From Latin quiescere (to become quiet), from quies (quiet).
limen
noun: A threshold of response: point at which a stimulus is of sufficient intensity to generate a response.
From Latin limen (threshold).
noun: A threshold of response: point at which a stimulus is of sufficient intensity to generate a response.
From Latin limen (threshold).
obdurate
adjective: 1. Stubborn: not easily moved. 2. Hard-hearted: resistant to emotions.
From Latin obdurare (to harden), from durus (hard). Ultimately from the Indo-European root deru- (to be firm) that's the source of such other words as truth, trust, betroth, tree, endure, druid, during, durable, duress, trow, and indurate.
The first two and the second two go together in very particular ways for me. I will be thinking about this and continue later.
adjective: 1. Stubborn: not easily moved. 2. Hard-hearted: resistant to emotions.
From Latin obdurare (to harden), from durus (hard). Ultimately from the Indo-European root deru- (to be firm) that's the source of such other words as truth, trust, betroth, tree, endure, druid, during, durable, duress, trow, and indurate.
The first two and the second two go together in very particular ways for me. I will be thinking about this and continue later.
Finding the light
I get stuck under the weight of over thinking, generally and specifically. Can I write about topic x, or will so and so read it and get hurt/mad?? I can spew out several paragraphs in the blink of an eye in response to a fb post, but it's so easy when my buttons get pushed.
I read this last night. I think If I keep reading it every day, I'll be able to fill some space here.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
March 16, 2010
WHY A BLOG?
Posted by Susan Orlean
1. Why not? Writers like to write, and writing in different forms—short, long, bite-sized, done on the fly, done with painstaking attention—all interest me.
2. I love print, and always will. I love writing traditional magazine pieces, and especially their breadth of reporting and the deliberateness of the writing. But I also think there’s a place in the world for something that takes advantage of the immediacy the Internet allows—namely, that you can form a thought, type it out, and within no time broadcast it to the world. In particular, there ought to be a place for thoughts and observations that are too small to develop into a magazine story, or so fleeting that they would evaporate by the time they could be put into print, or so particular (an ongoing observation, an unspooling thread of an idea) that they would feel out of place in a magazine. These all seem to fit quite snugly into a blog.
3. Why me? Well, I seem to have lots of those blog-sized thoughts, but never had anywhere to air them before. (I just never could get the hang of graffiti.)
After Chico raised his duck question, he went on to ask another, even more profound one: “Why-a no chicken?” To this, Groucho replied, “Well, I don’t know why-a no chicken. I’m a stranger here myself.” I know the feeling. I’m a stranger here in blogland myself, but I’m looking forward to the visit.
Read more: http://www.newyorker.com/online/blogs/susanorlean/?xrail#ixzz0ko9dwMGn
I read this last night. I think If I keep reading it every day, I'll be able to fill some space here.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
March 16, 2010
WHY A BLOG?
Posted by Susan Orlean
To misquote Chico Marx, who posed the enduring existential question “Why a duck?,” I can’t help but ask, Why a blog? Why a blog at all, and why a blog rather than print, and why me? Now, as I prepare to launch Free Range, I offer these attempts to answer:
1. Why not? Writers like to write, and writing in different forms—short, long, bite-sized, done on the fly, done with painstaking attention—all interest me.
2. I love print, and always will. I love writing traditional magazine pieces, and especially their breadth of reporting and the deliberateness of the writing. But I also think there’s a place in the world for something that takes advantage of the immediacy the Internet allows—namely, that you can form a thought, type it out, and within no time broadcast it to the world. In particular, there ought to be a place for thoughts and observations that are too small to develop into a magazine story, or so fleeting that they would evaporate by the time they could be put into print, or so particular (an ongoing observation, an unspooling thread of an idea) that they would feel out of place in a magazine. These all seem to fit quite snugly into a blog.
3. Why me? Well, I seem to have lots of those blog-sized thoughts, but never had anywhere to air them before. (I just never could get the hang of graffiti.)
After Chico raised his duck question, he went on to ask another, even more profound one: “Why-a no chicken?” To this, Groucho replied, “Well, I don’t know why-a no chicken. I’m a stranger here myself.” I know the feeling. I’m a stranger here in blogland myself, but I’m looking forward to the visit.
Read more: http://www.newyorker.com/online/blogs/susanorlean/?xrail#ixzz0ko9dwMGn
Sunday, April 4, 2010
No Bunny
I don't usually look for, focus on or follow the darker, more disturbing stories in the news. But the ones about child abuse are the hardest to move on from. Since I didn't intend this blog to be a forum for expressing my displeasure, rage, etc. I've got to work on lightening the tone.
~~~~~~~~~
I love the quotes of the day feature on my iGoogle home page. They are a great way to start my brain first thing in the morning. Better than coffee really.
"The reason lightning doesn't strike twice in the same place is that the same place isn't there the second time."
- Willie Tyler
Good job paraphrasing Heraclitis. This from Wiki: "Heraclitus is famous for his doctrine of change being central to the universe, as stated in his famous saying, "You cannot step twice into the same river." He believed in the unity of opposites, stating that "the path up and down is one and the same," existing things being characterized by pairs of contrary properties."
~~~~~~~~~
I love the quotes of the day feature on my iGoogle home page. They are a great way to start my brain first thing in the morning. Better than coffee really.
"The reason lightning doesn't strike twice in the same place is that the same place isn't there the second time."
- Willie Tyler
Good job paraphrasing Heraclitis. This from Wiki: "Heraclitus is famous for his doctrine of change being central to the universe, as stated in his famous saying, "You cannot step twice into the same river." He believed in the unity of opposites, stating that "the path up and down is one and the same," existing things being characterized by pairs of contrary properties."
Yin and Yang. Zen comes way later. The Greeks were there first, as usual.
More horror
A South Korean couple addicted to an Internet game about raising a virtual child were arrested for neglecting their real 3-month-old daughter and letting her starve to death, news reports said.
Reports: SKorean Internet Addicts Let Baby Starve
REALLY??? If I hadn't heard this on NPR I would have thought it was an Onion headline -- although they usually aren't that dark. What the hell is wrong with people? Give her to a damn orphanage if you don't want to take care of her. Is it just pointless to be mad at people for being/doing something this horrible. Words escape me. Neglect doesn't begin to name what they've done. Any person with normal feelings would despise them for this, but it goes even deeper for me. After the pain I went though trying practically every means known to medical science to create my beautiful monkeys ... well I can't even talk about this. I'm sorry I brought it up.
Reports: SKorean Internet Addicts Let Baby Starve
REALLY??? If I hadn't heard this on NPR I would have thought it was an Onion headline -- although they usually aren't that dark. What the hell is wrong with people? Give her to a damn orphanage if you don't want to take care of her. Is it just pointless to be mad at people for being/doing something this horrible. Words escape me. Neglect doesn't begin to name what they've done. Any person with normal feelings would despise them for this, but it goes even deeper for me. After the pain I went though trying practically every means known to medical science to create my beautiful monkeys ... well I can't even talk about this. I'm sorry I brought it up.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
