February 21st, 2017
|02:20 pm - From the Weekend |
Sun coming up and fog and damp
Francis in the sunshine
Current Music: Yeah Yeah Yeahs/"Cold Light"
|09:19 am - Crystal Bridges |
When we arrived in Fayetteville, we beelined straight to lunch at Hammontree's Grilled Cheese. K. had briefly mentioned the restaurant to me, and I couldn't think of anything I'd like more than a restaurant with every combination of grilled cheese known to man. It was a beautiful day so we sat on the porch and shared a beer. I'd been momentarily horrified when I asked for sweet tea, and they told me they didn't serve it. Look, I get that northerners don't understand our southern dedication to tea with so much sugar it could double as hummingbird feed, but it's table wine here. I literally recoiled when the waiter told me they didn't serve sweet tea. "You're in Arkansas, man," I countered. It wasn't five minutes before I overheard another table have a similar conversation. I wonder how many times a day those poor waiters have to listen to that. It'd probably be easier to just suck it up and serve the sugar coma inducing syrup and get over it. I definitely deducted stars from their review on that, but then, the sandwiches were amazing. I had the Brie's Company which was grilled apple, Brie, Gouda, caramelized onions, and fig jam on sourdough. I love cheese, but I could probably be just as happy with caramelized onions and fig jam in all honesty.
Next, we held hands and walked through the alley to my favorite bookstore in the world, Dickson St. Bookshop. The store is so cram packed that you have to let one person walk down an aisle at a time. It took me forever the first time I visited to find the fiction/literature section. It's just has books to the ceiling and random things taped to the walls, and it's heavenly. I'm so heartbroken that the pictures I took inside somehow were accidentally deleted because it's gorgeous if you're a bibliophile. Also, they specialize in rare and out of print books. One of my favorite authors is Colette, and she's hard to find in regular bookshops. The first time I went there, I had a religious experience when I found about six of her books I didn't own. This time, I actually put back a book of movie reviews and two screenplays by her! That's how good the other loot I found was. If you're interested, I bought Attilio Bertolucci's Selected Poems (Yes, Bernardo Bertolucci's Dad). I usually hate poetry, but I adore his stuff. Bernardo Bertolucci is an incredible writer too if you ever find any of his poetry. I also purchased: Vicki Baum's Grand Hotel, Djuana Barnes' Interviews, Elizabeth Bowen's Last September , Disraeli in Love by Maurice Edelman, La Bâtarde by Violette Leduc, Jean Cocteau's Round the World Again in 80 Days, The George Sand-Gustave Flaubert Letters, The Bean Trees by Barbara Kingsolver, and The Yonahlossee Riding Camp for Girls by Anton DiSclafani. I've read The Yonahlossee book before, and I liked it enough to add to my collection. I think I've read The Bean Trees too, but I couldn't remember. I know that I've loved several of Kingsolver's books that I read when I was in high school. I presented myself with books stacked in my arms right up to under my chin to K., and he was still sitting sifting through shelves and shelves of books on Arkansas history. By now, I think he could teach a class himself, and he must own all of them. It amused me when he told me that he most enjoys seeing books he owns on the shelves. He rarely buys anything there, but he likes to browse through them. I think that's fortunate for our wallets because I'll spend a ton of our money in there. I spent 56 bucks that time, but I got all of those books plus a postcard I found interesting. It's a great thing they're so reasonably priced. You couldn't even get half of those on Amazon for that price. Plus, it's supporting a magical bookstore. I miss bookstores. Stupid effing Kindle. I admonished K. to hurry up, but he continued singing Lucinda Williams, which was playing softly, and patted me on the cheek. I'm an impatient sort, but fortunately, he ignores me most of the time. He promised to never leave as long as they played Lucinda.
Next, we were off to hunt through a 410 Vintage, a great local vintage shop in Fayetteville. Some of my photos from here disappeared, too. I guess I just deleted most from that day for some reason. I can't find them in my recently deleted file either so that's a bummer. I managed to only walk away with three French postcards which I will post a photo of later because A. I don't know what they say in French because I took Spanish, and B. I just think they're gorgeous and kinda funny, too.
I found this photo I took inside 410 Vintage
This monkey caught my eye, but then I was completely head over heels for the shell collection/diorama below him! See blown up photo of the shell shelf here. Next, we were off to Crystal Bridges Museum of American Art. We are so fortunate to have this museum in Arkansas. It's free, and they've got an incredible collection. Kelly and I have been before, and we didn't have a ton of time so we just wanted to hit up some of their new pieces. First, on the list was their recently acquired Frank Lloyd Wright house--the Bachman-Wilson House. It's also free to tour, but you have to get tickets to go through. I really enjoyed it. They have a little self guided tour, and you can't go to the 2nd floor but you can view photos of it online. It's not sturdy enough to have people tromping up and down on the stairs all day. Behind the Bachman-Wilson House. I would've taken a photo of the front, but the way the sun was hitting, you couldn't see shit. Crystal Bridges itself is beautiful. The architect was Moshe Safdie. I should've taken more photos of the outside of the museum, but Google it. It's stunning. As you can see in the photo above, the museum also acquired the Louise Bourgeois sculpture Maman. I was so excited to see . I always found her her spider sculptures to be so beautiful and just truly marveled at their construction. I became even more enamored when I read about how she associated spiders with her mother--clever, helpful (eating mosquitoes), and protective. Plus, the artist was 88 when she created the sculpture. I adored it. I loved hiding beneath her and taking photos from different angels. I even liked capturing Maman in a reflection with a "twin" spider.
On the way to the museum coffee shop, one of the docents stopped me and whispered in a beautifully accented voice, "Did you know your glasses make you an artist?" K. and I both remembered chatting with him the last time we visited the museum, and it was nice to meet up with him again. He likes to chat with guests about pieces throughout the museum, and he's warm and funny. He strives to make art accessible to the hundreds that walk through Crystal Bridges every day.
Karen LaMonte's Dress Impression with Wrinkled Cowl
as the sun goes down
Kelly is always teaching me something, and for once, I relished getting to tell him about Keith Haring and the Eames chair while I sipped a Lavender Limeade, and we waited for it to get dark to view Leo Villareal's Buckyball. Buckyball has these comfortable wooden seats for two that are in the shape of a reclining body and allow you to look up comfortably. While we settled in and watched the lights begin to change as the sun went down, people jogged by and talked about the light sculpture and other people joined us in gazing up in chairs. You can see it from the road as you drive by, but it's much more special to take the time to gaze up and watch it cycle through several different colors while tucked in next to someone you love.
Kelly in front of Buckyball
K. heading back to our car in the fading light
Current Music: Stevie Nicks/"Bombay Sapphires"
February 16th, 2017
|04:16 pm - Top Ten Naughtiest |Gas Station Roses
I took notes from our trip so I could tell you about it. I typed them out on my phone along the way, and they make no sense to anyone but me. I've done this before on trips, and then forgot about the notes. Then I've went back later and reread them. Some things I recognize right away and others confuse me. I had good intentions to start telling you about the trip yesterday and to do things around the house, but instead, I drank two beers and listened to music and worked on recreating my "Night Music" playlist that I accidentally deleted. I laughed and kissed my husband, and I yelled at our bad dog. I love her in spite of her being so terrible. She's not been raised properly, and pugs are number 4 on the list of the top ten naughtiest dogs Kelly tells me.
Oh, but first on Valentine's Day we went to Thai Taste for dinner with our gift certificate Kelly had managed to save from my weekly prying. There was nobody there, and it was nice to have the whole restaurant to ourselves. I had Thai Iced Tea and Tom Kha Soup with veggies and tofu. I never want any meat. For dessert, I scalded my tongue on the Tapioca Pudding with Coconut Milk. I just slurped it down because I'd had it before at other restaurants, and it was usually lukewarm. Anyway, I overheard our waitress chatting with a customer waiting for a pick up order at the front, and I briefly understood life coaches. She said that she'd come to the restaurant when it first opened and that she liked the food so much she ate there for three days straight, begging for a job each day. She told the customer that she loved the food, and she just worked there because of her love of Thai food. She said she was a Christian, and she looked at it as another form of service. She really enjoyed getting to know the different people who eat Thai food, and that "even if it was a bad day at work, most people view Thai food as a comfort. Plus, when she was having a bad day, it wasn't like someone would die like at the ER." She told him she believed in carrying this into any job she worked in, and she was really happy working at Thai Taste. I told Kelly I wanted to hire her so she could teach me how to live my life. She sounded so happy as if money just took care of itself and that it was better to be satisfied with what you are doing every day. I'm not currently into what I do everyday, but at 35, I still don't know what I want to do when I grow up. I'm most passionate about books and coffee, and I think I'd love to work in one of those fields but I'm terrified about having no money and no health insurance. I don't know, though. She almost convinced me to ask for a job there. I admire people who just know, without a doubt, what they want out of life. I've never been that sort. People with decisive walks make me swoon because I've always been a meandering sort.
After the trauma of dropping off the dog at the vet to be boarded, Kelly and I hit the road on Friday morning to head to the Northwest Arkansas. It was a nice and sunny drive, and I drank lots of iced coffee on the way. We split different flavored "beef sticks" which I got a kick out of calling them in a pervy way. Being overly caffeinated made me leer at him, and say, "Gimme some of that beef stick," and then I would laugh wildly because I'm rarely mature when it's just the two of us. That's the fun of married life for me--being a complete bizarro day in and day out with the one you love. Anyway, there was a pork and ostrich beef stick, and I screeched, "Who in the hell would think would think of putting pork and ostrich together?" Seriously, it's obscene. When I ate it, it just tasted like the spices and like every other beef stick in the package. Just the idea of pork and poultry mixed up weirded me out, I guess.
We finally stopped at a gas station after several hours in the car and did the stiff walk like zombies. They had all their Easter candy out already, and I bought two of the Reese's White Chocolate Peanut Butter Cup King Sized eggs. The eggs are the best because I hate the crinkly edges on peanut butter cups. When I was younger, I told Mom once before I properly though it out, "Ahhh, the reason for the season," while clutching a Cadbury Creme Egg. She almost slapped my face, but then I thought about it and realized what I was saying. The man in front of Kelly and I at the gas station joked with the employees. He was a regular, and he scolded them by name when couldn't remember what brand of cigarettes he liked. He gave them three chances to get it right, and finally, one did. When we were walking across the parking lot, I heard the intercom, "Customer #47, your shower is now ready."
I will tell you more about our trip soon and show you photos. It's a day by day retelling because we saw so much. In other news, we've decided to drive instead of fly to New Mexico. I'm okay with that because while I hate the drive through Oklahoma, I do love driving across that barren part of Texas. There's this one part where they warn you by sign about 20 times to get gas before entering no man's land. Last time when we drove through, we stopped at the gas station everyone stops at, and I checked in on Facebook out of boredom, and someone had labeled it as "Gas Station in the Middle of Nowhere." That made me laugh, but that's really what it is. I can't remember if the scrub brush barren zone was actually in Texas or New Mexico. It rides that border so maybe it's in both.
Kelly stopped by our office today, and I called him "Baby" in the workplace. It slipped out fast as a mouse before I could catch it. One of the students leaned around the column to see who was with me.
February 9th, 2017
|04:33 pm - "And Now You've Spent Your Life, Waiting for This Moment" |
I had lunch out with my dear friend Natalie and my Mama today. Nat said she thought I was feeling sassy, and I was because it's my Friday today. I don't work again until next Wednesday because Kelly and I are going on a little weekend trip for his birthday/Valentine's Day. I kicked up little tantrums here and there until I sat, back to the wall, in the center of the rounded corner booth and surveyed the entire restaurant like a queen and ate Loaded Baked Potato Soup and was finally satisfied. I'm only friends with people who will humor and spoil me, and my promise is to provide entertainment with my neuroses and flair for the dramatic in return. Nat's so nice she'll make you defensive as hell about her. She's humble even though she's incredibly talented and it's admirable, and half the time I spend wishing I were more like her. The other half the time, I think about beating to a pulp anyone who has crossed her. After lunch, Mama kidnapped her pug-grandchild and Facetimed me at the office. I answered from the front desk. Everyone in the office could probably hear the conversation, but I was feeling free and didn't care. "Look who I've got," she said, and I could see Mearl happily between Mom and Dad on the couch. She's probably getting fed so much she won't eat dinner, but that's what pug grandparents are for. We're those people. We don't have kids, and my parents were always like, "Don't have them. We don't care about grandkids." Thank God.
Mearl-Purvis Ponder with My Mom Getting Spoiled. She's a lady even though everyone thinks she's a boy because of her blue collar.Today, a student walking by said: "You are so pretty," and I batted my eyes and lit up like a Christmas tree. Later, two other girls came in giggling and said, "We're looking at boobs." "Enjoy," I responded. I know they're adult women, but when you're 35, and they're 21, in my mind, they're girls. They have been listening to 80s music in their office and dancing. Everyone is a bit lighter because of the sunshine and almost crawling into Friday. They have been plying me with sugary coffee drinks and bossing me about what shows to watch on Netflix. They're right though, The OA is great! They're obsessed recently with the OJ trial and Monica Lewinsky because they were wee when that was going on, and I enjoy being the expert.
This morning, K. and I deflated the air mattress because our new bed has arrived! As we rolled this way and that, pushing the air out with our weight, I confessed, "I had a sex dream with Todd Clever last night. That's what happens when you make me watch rugby before bed." Fortunately, K.'s not a stupid, jealous sort and knows he has nothing to worry about ever. He's mine for life, and besides, Todd was in a nudie shoot in ESPN magazine and his name is "TODD CLEVER", and who cares about a Viking beefcake? In retrospect, I probably shouldn't have said anything, but I'm always tell all. He's so muscly and beautiful that he's not even real. His middle name is Stanger. I give K. permission to look at boobs at a Hooters if he'd like in exchange and repentance for my dream dalliance.
On the agenda for our upcoming trip--Frank Lloyd Wright house, Giant Spider, maybe the 410 Vintage Market, flock of bluebirds of happiness, grilled cheese restaurant, heavenly used rare bookstore, and ancient ruins, an old brothel and a yurt. Details when we return, I promise. It'll be early next week before you hear from me.
I read about a morning wedding on an old Livejournal recently, and I think that sounds so perfect now! Maybe I'll take Kelly up on renewing our vows someday, and we'll have a morning wedding and then eat beignets and have black coffee. I love the clean slate of morning. I've always been a morning person. I love the promise of the day. I can't think of anything more romantic than promising your eternal love and waffles.
Current Mood: optimistic
Current Music: Scissor Sister/"It Can't Come Quickly Enough"
February 8th, 2017
|04:14 pm - "How Do I Master the Perfect Day" |
Valentine from my sweet Grandma. I love that she still takes the time to jot out handwritten cards and letters to people all the time. The inside reads--"Be Mine. Keep the prayers coming. Love, Gram!"
Last night, around 1 a.m. Mearl woke up and started frantically pacing in circles around our bed. She would jolt a little bit like she'd had a spasm (or how dogs have the hiccups--but it wasn't the hiccups). I was up for about 2 hours with her doing that, and her tail was unfurled and down, and her pug eyes looked at me with confusion. We both finally passed out, and before you know it, the alarm was going off. She and I both yawned a lot and forced ourselves to start the day. She seemed a bit better this morning, but I was still worried. Perhaps from lack of sleep, maybe neuroses, potentially that I posted on the pug forum, but I was quickly convinced that my precious pup was suffering from Meningitis or Pug Dog Encephalitis. Fortunately, I called Dad and he took us to the vet. He tries to be gruff, but he patted her a few times to comfort her--she adores my Dad. She has a really bad ear infection so she's on 8 drops in each ear twice a day and pain meds. The vet office was a nightmare, though. The vet is either really good with everyone excited, reuniting in the lobby and licking and jumping and yapping and baby talk and head pats, or the vet is really bad. Today, the vet was really bad. A grown burly man dressed head to toe in camouflage--he looked like a farmer--came in with his Boston Terrier. He cradled her like a baby the whole time, and he rubbed her under her chin until she dozed against his chest. When they came out to collect her, I noticed her eye was horribly infected and bulging even more than Boston Terriers usually stick out. He was insistent that they were gentle with her, and he reluctantly passed her over to the assistant. Then, he sat down in his chair, and he started to cry. He had tears rolling down his cheeks for quite some time, and he snuffled and several times wiped his entire face in his t-shirt. I wanted desperately to hug him, to tell him how I didn't know what he was going through but how sorry I was. I wanted to offer comfort in some way, but I also didn't know if how he felt about crying in public. I wasn't sure if he was embarrassed since he kept staring off outside the door, away from everyone in the room. I was the only one on his side of lobby, but I didn't want to impose on his sadness either, you know? When I'm having a hard time and crying, I hate people to touch me, and I'd prefer to be left alone. Out of respect for him, I averted my eyes just in case he wanted privacy. I really wanted to just pat his knee, though. I wanted to not say anything but give some sign that I understood, that I was sorry. They took him back to speak with the doctor, and not 15 minutes later, an older woman came in dragging a dog slowly behind her. The animal looked in pain and crouched low, and in spite of her soothing tones, it dug its heels in and just allowed her to pull it's defeated body behind her. This was definitely a bad case. She covered it with a towel and sat near it in a chair. She was already crying, and she whispered and whimpered apologetically to it, "I waited too late. I waited too late." My eyes welled up with tears, and I figured I was about a minute away from crying myself. The assistant quickly came out, comforting both her and carrying the huge dog in her arms and found them a private room. The administrative assistants apologized to me for making me wait, and I shook my head, fighting back tears. Compassion was heavy in the room. The television played softly in the background, more news of the world falling apart. Everything on the Internet lately leads with “This should terrify everyone,” and it does, but this moment of pure compassion in the lobby, our eyes cast down softly, or when we dared lock them, hoping to convey our love, our understanding. The madness of the world seemed like it was happening on another planet. We all just stared at the 80 something year old parrot. He meowed or said "America" intermittently while furiously ripping newspaper and throwing it through the cage bars onto the floor.
Current Music: Björk/"It's Not Up to You"
February 7th, 2017
|06:11 pm - Land of Enchantment |
For a second time, just like that, a trip is born out of my deepest daydream desire. I can't get enough of sobbing lately about how New Mexico was magic, and it's the only place in the world that's magic--besides maybe the desert where I haven't been, yet. I have taken off all of spring break and, we're going back to Santa Fe, Taos, Los Alamos...and adding Albuquerque! I won't pout at all when we're there this time because last time K. never knew how much I loved it because I was anxious and snippy. When I got back I told everyone, "It's like an art museum exploded into a city." It made me sad that he never knew how much I adored it. I have generalized anxiety disorder, and unfortunately, it will manifest as anger when I'm all nerves. I know what to expect now though so I don't think it will be nearly as trying. I have been working on lists of things to see and do and places to revisit.
I can't wait to see the mountains. We live in the rice country which is all flat lands for ages. I think it's horribly boring, and I'm usually stunned by the beauty of mountains. I don't like the curvy, scary drop offs, but it's worth it. In New Mexico, there are mountains with different personalities, too. The ones outside of Taos are pine covered and snowy and soft and inviting, but on the way to Los Alamos they are a barren and devastating and fierce--those are my favorites. In the canyons, it looks like the Earth is yawning or maybe getting ready to swallow us all--jagged teeth mountains and secretive Georgia O'Keeffe shadows everywhere. In fact, I never really got O'Keeffe until I visited New Mexico.
On the way to Taos
Just a small part of the mountains on the way to Los Alamos. They are huge here, and this photo can't capture it. No photo ever could.
There is a church that existed in the 1600s and has a staircase that some believe St. Joseph himself designed--a miraculous staircase with seemingly no central support. There is a church with holy dirt to to touch, and you may take some home for your afflictions if you wish. There is a church that the community comes together once a year to pat with their wet palms, caking thick layers of a mud and straw mixture.
Loretto Chapel Staircase
El Santuario de Chimayo
San Francisco de Asis Mission Church
In Los Alamos, I finally was able to quench some of my insatiable thirst for all things bomb related. I am mad about atomic history, and it all sounded so glamorous with cocktails and banding together for a common goal. I get it, I know it's oversimplified and naive and the subject they were working on was a blight on American history. I just like the idea of carving their way through the treacherous terrain, and babies born with a post office box as their birthplace. I most like the idea of fresh flowers at the commissary and the canyon stream becoming a skating rink in winter. There were parties at dance halls and community theater in this secret universe that the world didn't know existed. When the world finally found out, there were cakes and earrings and perfumes all celebrating the accomplishments of the brilliant men of "The Hill."
New Mexico is also the land of liquid chocolate elixirs and foil wrapped sweets. If the rich taste weren't heavenly enough, they sculpt them into dainty little mushrooms and gooshy swirly 6th grade hearts. This door leads into a place more romantic than Willy Wonka's chocolate factory, I promise. I'm going back. It's on my list of places to return.
Todos Santos Chocolates
The teeny mushroom and heart are my favorite to look at, but my favorite to taste is the peanut butter cone.
These are darling, and I wasn't sure what they were the first time I went but now, I'm almost certain they're surprise balls! I'm going to check when I go back, and if so, I'm picking one up.Things I won't see next time, but I appreciated last time include--
Horseface man and horseface horse
Dali-esque clock in front of the perfect blue sky
I won't go back to see this piece of art, but I do hope to see a duck with boobs. It is all magic, I swear. EVERYTHING THERE.
I'll make a list tomorrow of things I want to see on this upcoming trip, but I'll sign off for now because this is another longest post known to man.
Current Music: Faithless/"If Lovin' You is Wrong"
February 6th, 2017
|03:11 pm - Bald is Beautiful |
I thought about it for a month or so, and I wanted it so desperately. Oh, how I wanted it. I listed pros and cons, and the pros won every time, hands down. So, I finally did it.
1. It’s easier. So many times, I have looked at men and thought, how easy that must be. To get up, wash and go. I’ve had a short pixie cut for years, and even though sides were shaved off, I still had to get up and wash my hair, dry it, and style it every single morning. I couldn’t imagine how liberating it could be just to get up and go. I can finally just get up on summer mornings and head to the Farmer’s Market! I can finally sleep longer on vacations. I CAN TAKE A SHOWER AT NIGHT and just wake up the next morning AND GO!
2. It’s hair. It’s not brave. It’s fucking hair or lack thereof now.
3. My femininity and womanhood is not wrapped up in my hair. Women are not their hair.
4. People didn’t want me to do it. Some old dude overhearing me talking about the upcoming buzz to a friend said, “Why would you do that? I know it probably doesn’t matter to you, but I think you need to leave your hair like that.” I swear, if I would’ve had an electric razor, I would’ve pulled it out of my purse and shaved it while standing right in front of him looking him dead in his face the entire time. Instead I looked over, and said, “No, it doesn’t matter to me.” When someone gives me there unasked for opinion and is horrified by the idea, it only served to encourage me more so thanks for that, naysayers.
5. It’s cheaper.
6. It is soft and wonderful, and I love the way the newly shorn hair feels under my palm.
7. It shows off my sexy dangly earring even more now, and it allows my Avant-Garde sunglasses to be even more outrageous (see photo below).
8. No more bad hair days.
9. Bald is beautiful: See Charlize Theron as Furiosa, Erykah Badu, Natalie Portman, Sinead O’Conner, Grace Jones, Amber Rose, Robin Tunney in Empire Records, Agyness Deyn, etc.
10 It’s empowering.
11.Because I wanted to
And I think I look like a stunning, warrior goddess, and I love it. I don’t regret it, and I’m never, ever going back. I wish I would’ve done this years ago.
Current Mood: Confident
Current Music: Laura Veirs/"July Flame"
February 2nd, 2017
|03:24 pm - "We're Still Building and Burning Down Love"|
From inside Hail Dark Aesthetics--one of my favorite shops in Nashville
At work, they are amused but not surprised that I know about the rally and that I was invited. The "Republican" or "Fox News", as he is known behind his back, a holdover from his first week on the job when he brazenly turned on the television in the lobby to said offensive channel, calls me "The Radical." I used to loathe him, but he grew on me like a tumor. We don't agree on anything, but he is sometimes funny. He posts up photos in his office of Trump and motivational quotes that give me the heebie-jeebies. They are all in black and white because he doesn't have access to the color printer. He has plastered them over a Kandinsky that a colleague left in that office. The work still partially peeks through. I begin to wonder if I might have synaesthesia as the artist did because whenever I look in there, I can certainly hear the colors drowning under it all and screaming. In spite of this, I let him borrow my phone charger every day, and he always returns it. He tells me he likes my hair this "standard color" because it is back to my natural color, dark brown. I secretly chuckle to myself and wonder what he'll think when I come in next week with a buzz cut (more on that later, it is deserving of it's own post).
She tells me that she is always surprised when I post my pictures of myself in my twenties when I only wore vintage, and I say, "Yeah, I was beautiful and thin." I just happen to find things more important now than being beautiful and thin. Old age will do that. So, I was pretty. Who cares? I really took to heart when I hit 34 that quote about as a woman not owing anyone pretty. I don't see the point in pretending to be modest about it all when wasn't anything special I did or any talent I developed.
I love the new house, and I'm discovering many things about it. I think it will be the perfect yard for picnics in the spring and summer. I must get one of these. Then, I'll be able to tie Mearl-Purvis (my pug) to a tree near me, and she and I can laze about reading books and chewing sticks. You can decide who will do which. There's a perfect tree to sit under, and beneath another tree, I think I discovered a rose bush. I hope so! Kelly used to have a rose bush at his old house, and when we were dating, he would sometimes bring roses for my blue bud vase. Then, when I moved next door to him, he had the roses and I had a gorgeous hydrangea bush. We both had pecan trees in our backyards in our side by side campus houses, and our new house has a pecan tree, too.
I have almost bought out the Asian grocery in town of Green Fields Thai Tea. It's makes me sing silly songs and laugh at myself, and Kelly laughs too and says, "Someone's in a good mood." Really, I suspect it's just the good hit of sugar. I took home some of these Green Tea cakes. They remind me of Fig Newtons, but they have Green Tea mixture in them instead of Fig. I also have already finished the Peanut Mochi I bought.
We are waiting for a new bed to arrive so in the meantime, Kelly is sleeping on the couch, and Mearl I sleep on an air mattress in the bedroom, back to back like Girl Scouts. She is tiny and furry, of course, but she snores loudly. I love her stupid wrinkled face so much. I love her marble eyes, and I love how she farts and bites and sleeps under all the blankets with her head on the pillows. In the morning when my alarm goes off, she lays on my chest and yawns with her "bubble tape tongue" unfurling as Kelly calls it.
Current Mood: excited
Current Music: U2/"Where the Streets Have No Name"
January 27th, 2017
|04:40 pm - "You Look to Me Like Love Forever" |
Wednesday on the ride home, I scramble quickly for my phone to capture him. He is mid laugh with the sun setting, his beard on fire, the copper red coming out that I adore. My Abe, his elegant fingers cradling his head. He is the fruition of my mother's prayer. He is everything I didn't know I needed. I tell friends I have never ever seen him angry, and they think I'm joking or exaggerating. It's true, though. Not once since I met him. He presents the gift to me, and I am all bravado as always. "What's this," I sneer skeptically? He has checked out a book for me from the library--Danielle Dutton's Margaret the First: A Novel. It is the perfect selection for me--heavy on whimsy with a thick froth of decadence. I've lost count of all the kind ways he shows his love to me, but this one is one of my favorites. He said he'd read several reviews during his incessant periodical combing, and he thought of me. A book, no less! He whips up mashed potatoes for me for dinner because he knows they're my favorite. Sometimes, he runs to the grocer, and his talent for always picking perfectly ripe avocados is frustrating but rewarding when a dinner of chips and guac is served. We are spending the night with our animals babies in the new house for the first night. We have a lot of unpacking to do, and we will for the next few weeks probably. He promised to celebrate with Thai food soon.
Current Mood: Pleased
Current Music: Tim Hardin/"Misty Roses"
January 24th, 2017
|04:32 pm - "Your Fingers Like Fuses"|News of the week--the weather continued to plague us last week with rain and more rain. Although it's rather pretty resting on the leaves of the tree in our front yard, it doesn't make for good moving weather. We are so very close to being completely in the new house. I was thrilled to see that this week, finally, there should be nothing but sunshine and clear skies! By the end of the weekend, if not sooner, we should be in the new house with all our animal babies! We are on good terms with our sweet rugby boys that play at the university so they have moved us twice over the years. This will be their third move of our house. We moved most of the stuff already, but the big stuff, we let them get. My husband has some heart issues that keep him from lifting heavy items, and I am out of shape and frankly, don't do manual labor. Ewww! Ewwww! The young pups are very familiar with heavy lifting, and they always need a little spending money, as everyone in college does, so it's a win win.
Lately, there have been many thrifting days which I love, and I also had wonderful time out with friends celebrating two birthdays. A group of us met up over sushi and drinks (warm sake to pink my cheeks and make me laugh and a bit brazen). The night was magic and quite literally glowing with cherry blossom trees and radioactive forks with which to dine on the most delicious cookie cake. Hookah and conversation until we all yawned and went home to warm beds.
My tray of goodies from the thrift: Smiling orange to add to my new kitchen, two pairs of avant-garde sunglasses, silvery magic headband, and a pretty rounded wooden tray with blue/green/yellow motif. I may hang the tray up on a wall. I haven't really decided what I'm going to do with that just yet.
These glowing trees outside of our local sushi place always make me happy.
Bathroom selfies are acceptable in pretty public johns. My hair has already been cut again since this photo. It now has no mohawk back, and the sides are completely shaved all the way up. It's sort of like a military high and tight, but much less severe. I've almost had the nerve to shave it completely off which I desperately want, and perhaps soon. I'll get the courage one day, I know it.
Bubbly, radioactive plasticware, and good conversation for a wonderful end to a great night!
What else has been going on? My life is tragically slow right now it seems. Who am I kidding? It's always slow because I'm pretty much a shut in, and I hate to leave my house. Yeah. Blah blah blah community and no man is island. I'd like to have a go at it most days. I've been voraciously reading. I'm currently reading Visit Sunny Chernobyl: And Other Adventures in the World's Most Polluted Places. I've always been obsessed with Chernobyl history and really anything dealing with nuclear history. I don't know why, but my real dad always says after all the research I've done online and books I've checked out from the library, he's sure I'm on some watch list. :) He jokingly told me once to "only visit his house under the cover of night." I've got a stack by my bed from the library. If you'd like to know what else I'm reading, befriend me at Goodreads, too. I love new booknerd friends.
Kelly and I finally finished Breaking Bad. I know. I know. I'm always 10 years behind on everything. It was one of the best shows I've ever seen. We're making our way through Curb now before the new season, and then, I may have to rewatch Twin Peaks, too. I am beside myself waiting for the new season to come on Showtime.
You guys, I am also beside myself hoping that the boots below don't sell out in my size before tomorrow. I'm ordering them tomorrow morning, and aren't they the most gorgeous shoes you've seen in your life? I haven't had a pair of Docs since high school (those boots lasted me about 10 years with good repeated greasings). I've said before I'm not your stereotypical woman because I could give a hang about shoes. In my opinion, shoes are utilitarian so who gives a damn? I take it all back! Well, I take back the part about being purely utilitarian after seeing these. I can't imagine walking around with works of art on my boots?!! The particular tale of this work by William Hogarth is detailed below (taken from the Dr. Marten blog). You can also read more thoroughly about it here.
‘A Rake’s Progress’ is a satirical depiction of the rise and fall of Tom Rakewell, a country boy who inherits a fortune. Having gambled it away and squandered it on debauched evenings in the renowned Rose Tavern in Covent Garden, he marries a rich one-eyed woman. Once again he loses his fortune in a gambling house, becomes imprisoned for debt and eventually dies from madness in the notorious Bedlam asylum.
Look at this photo
I found of them online (above). Green eyed, and I can't wait to have my own!
You guys, if they keep making boots like this, it's all over for me. I'll give in and become a shoe addict. I looked at this pair
first, but they are out of my size so I went with the Rake's Progress pair. I never knew Dr. Marten worked with museums and added art now. Look at these (photos below) I would effing kill for! I'm going to have to scour the internet for the willow china plate ones, and I'm even fond of the roses on the sides. I think Docs are a good investment, though. Like I said, my first pair I had for ages.
In order to try to be kinder when moving (which I'm forever failing at because disorder turns me into the grouchiest), I'm diving into self-care. I've taken many hot baths lately, one with the pug who continued to whine and bark the entire time so I threw her in, too. I know you all are grossed out, but I'm too old to give a damn now. Yes, I took a bath with my dog. Yes, if I dropped a fork in a restaurant, I'd pick it up and keep eating most likely. Yes, my cats walk all over my counters and step over my plate most days. Guess what? I'm still alive! I like to live on the edge, and it probably builds up my immunity so stuff it, germaphobes. I'll eat my words, when I get a parasite, but until then, I throw caution to the wind and take bubble baths with a pug swimming near my feet. After, I pat my face with rose oil
which smells and feels heavenly.
The weather has been hinting at spring here and there. I'm so excited to spend the heady time in a new home! Check out this beautiful sunset above our garage. Don't judge our abandoned tomato plant buckets. We will empty them and plant some new ones before you know it!
*I know I've been a shitty friend on here, and I promise to get better very soon! It's all the moving that's kept me away from reading and commenting. Hang in there, new friends! Cross my heart and kiss my elbow, I'll be catching up with you all soon! xo*
Current Music: Beth Orton/"Stolen Car"