In My Element

It’s Friday and it was supposed to snow. It didn’t snow. It did get below freezing. It’s not only sweater weather now, it’s maybe-wear-a-coat weather, too. I likey. Don’t hate me. I was born this way.

People always be like, “It’s cause you’re still young” and “It’s because you’re overweight” or “It’s the hormones.” Stop that shit. It’s cause I like cold weather and hate to be hot. Period. Been this way all my life, and y’all, if you can imagine, I’ve been younger — too young to blame hormones, and at some points, downright skinny, and I have always, always, always hated to be hot.

You can look at pictures of juvenile me and see it plain as day. Pictures of me at summer camp — you can pick me out easy — in a sea of tan, glistening blondes, I am the red-faced ghost. If I am wearing a sundress and smiling, it is only because I am in the nice climate-controlled environment of the portrait studio, okay? (And maybe cause my mommy said there’d be ice cream after. I am highly motivated by ice cream CAUSE IT’S COLD!)

There are no unhappy photos of me out in the cold and snow. When it’s cold, not crazy cold, I no like crazy cold, *shakes head* I walk around smiling, all red-cheeked, tra-la-la, look at all the hot I’m not bein. Simply cannot help but smile.

People: “SUMMERTIME!”
Me: “AIR-CONDITIONING!”
People: “Dreary gray skies make me feel so sad.”
Me: “I can see and my skin is not made of sticky fire!”

It was 7C/44F yesterday on the way in, and I saw a mitten-clad teenager dressed so that her parka met her boots and I could not help but ask, “My God, what does she wear when it gets cold?” I half-wondered if she’s from southeast Georgia.

Meanwhile, on my breaks at work, I was out in a light sweater, trousers, and ballet flats without socks. I was out kickin up leaves, wind blowin through my hair — Ooh, those were good breaks!

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My nose ran a lil and I LIKED IT, okay?

I like cold weather, old things, kale, rain, dog shows, black licorice, twinkly lights, and white wine at room temperature. You like things I cannot stand. Things like unsweetened iced tea, hotels, baseball, black eyeliner, industrial metal, riding horses, gin, rooftop views, and sunrises. Ew. No, wait, I do like sunrises when I’m still half-drunk and about to sleep.
Let’s just enjoy our differences.

HAPPY first cold FRIDAY of the season EVERYONE!

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#ThursdayDoors — Union50

So last Friday, which was a very, very good day for me, The Mister had a bad thing at work and I …

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He made reservations and I got even happier and then after we drove the children to all the things ever on Saturday, we went out to eat.

We arrived in the darkness. Downtown on a Saturday night, like fucking grown-ups, man.

I whipped out my phone and The Mister thought I wanted to take a picture of us.
UM. YES, I totally want to take a picture of us. I didn’t even notice the door.

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Twas dark.

Inside, there was light, but also other people. Say hi to the stranger lady, Everyone.

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We ate that. The Mister had the Duck Duck.
I had the bone marrow, with arugula, tomato bacon jam, roasted garbanzo beans and two pieces of sourdough toast. The waiter said this often isn’t enough to satisfy, so he suggested I order a side, even though we had fries. I ordered the dates.
The bone marrow dish was enough to satisfy me, oh yes, mhm, but I had some of the dates and I love dates.

Dates on a date. Heh.

I went to the ladies’, it had a door.

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Upon my exit, I saw another door, which reminded of me why we had not gone to Union50 in a long time, despite The Mister’s love of their Duck Duck.

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Live music.
We love live music. We love food. We do not love them together. We like to talk while we eat, and we like to hear one another. Fortunately, no live music that night.

Still I went into the quiet liminal space, where I caught this other door.

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Then while we waited for the valet, I got a few more.

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I thought it was kind of ironic — taking a photo while being under surveillance.

Then we went home where we had the place all to ourselves.

Ahh, DATE NIGHT!

#ThursdayDoors is part of an inspired post series run by Norm Frampton. To see other doors of interest, or to share your own, click the link and find the frog.

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Ring Ding Dong, Ringa Ding Ding Ding Dong

Thank God it’s Friday.

This week played a joke on me.

Tuesday and Thursday conspired against me by switchin their modus operandi and fucked.my.shit.up.

Friday got it right.

Happy Friday Everyone!
Get on down.

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#ThursdayDoors — A Trio

A trio of white doors.

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Okay, is more like five doors, two not-anymore-doors, three handles, and sixty-six windows — anyone wanna count the bricks?

#ThursdayDoors is part of an inspired post series run by Norm Frampton. To see other doors of interest, or to share your own, click the link and find the frog.

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Leafeses

The trees are finally at their peak and it’s going to be 67 degrees and instead of going to tromp about in leafeses, I am going to work. Y’all, I love my job, is great job, but it is not as good as leafeses tromping through the filtered sunlight of autumn’s trees, k?
Oh I walked in the ones on my driveway last night. Came home, kicked off my shoes, loved my dog, and went back out to fetch the groceries. Papery crunch-crunch under my bare feet. And cold asphalt. So happy!

Maybe I’ll leave work and tromp a bit. Maybe I’ll plant s’more bulbs.

Happiness, I can have it.

 

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Meowmixtext

Mary shared her One-Liner Wednesday featuring a Mittens meme, and it cracked me up.

I’m so glad my cats don’t text me.

If they did:

Cletus would send videos all day, “Look at me! Are you watching? Mama, Mommy, Mooohhm! Look at me, chewin the ends of this spider plant! Mmm, nom nom! Watch me jump from the top of the fridge and land on the oven mitts! Kerflop! Woot! Look Ma, I’m surfin!”

Clara would send heart emojis and cries for affection, like some insecure girlfriend. “Do you still love me? Can you love me from there? When will you be home to love me? I bet you like reading without my butt in your face, don’t you? I don’t mean it, I’m sorry, I love you. Do you still love me?”

I imagine Catticus might make witty commentary throughout the day. Deeply existential thoughts about chickens and fishes. Snide commentary about the other cats. Seriously derisive opinions about the dog.  Ya know what? I’d let Catticus text me.

Happy Friday Everyone!

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Thursday Doors — Bark Park

The doors are clearly marked, but the dogs really don’t care.

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I took these near a year ago.
I had things to say about this, and today is the day.

First of all, dogs don’t care about size. If you know dogs, you know it’s true. Dogs have no idea how big or small they are and they’re not sizeist about whose butt they sniff.
There are Teacup Terriers that will bite your ankles off to protect their people and there are Great Danes afraid of their own shadows. I know those dogs.

You know who cares about the size of dogs? Their humans.
I have a medium dog. If your dog weighs as much as you do, then I have a small dog. If you can carry your dog in your purse, I have a big dog.

I did not have Sadie with me the day I took these pictures. I’m glad I didn’t, because there was no medium dog run.
Sadie would want to go into both sides of the dog run, because she is a dog and signs are just things to pee on.

Somewhere out there in the interwebz is someone else who understands having a medium dog comes with certain doggy societal commentary. If I take my dog into the big dog run, people with very big dogs laugh and tell me how little she is. If I take my dog into the little dog run, people with small dogs gasp and pick up their dogs because they’re afraid my dog will eat theirs. Fortunately, most humans at dog runs and bark parks are not these people, but it happens.

For the record, Sadie has played with all the dogs and has neither eaten nor been eaten.

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#ThursdayDoors is part of an inspired post series run by Norm Frampton. To see other doors of interest, or to share your own, click the link and find the frog.

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Full Moon Today

Yesterday, I was rudely awakened before the sun.
My husband’s giant feet in his giant shoes clomp-clomp-clomping around the bedroom.
Then a light.
“What are you doooooing?”
(I’m whiny in the morning, I bet you didn’t guess.)
I don’t know what he said exactly, cause earplugs, but I heard the tone.

He came in again.
He said things again.
“You lost your phone?” I asked. Earplugs.
Then it was just a lot of yelling, probably swearing, and I looked at my phone, blink, blink, distance, blink. I didn’t have glasses on, so I asked, “Does that say it’s 5:49?”
I don’t know what he said, but again with the tone.

Have I ever mentioned what a miserable summbitch The Mister is in the morning? First light, he’s militant and I’m a whiny little bitch and I really don’t know how we’ve made it this far.

There was a bad news text on my phone. It was right there, just waiting for me to wake up. Fabulous. There’s nothing like waking up early to bad news. Why don’t we just turn the heat up to 105 and put some fire ants in my bed, hmm?

The Mister found his phone.

Then we just sat on our bed, maudlin, angsty. Did a lil grooming. Sat on the bed again. We yawned a lot. I chided him for his behavior, he nodded agreeably. Our pets came to greet us. They probably thought it was ‘that one weird dark weekend’ or something.

I made coffee.

I had my blues out, ready to don, but I needed cotton in the worst way. I needed big comfy cotton, so I wore my biggest sweater, a zip-up cardigan thing — kinda creamy colored — oversized collar covers half my shoulders — so roomy it easily adds thirty unflattering pounds to your frame — you’d get one for your granny and she’d love you for it.

I went out into the world and made it through the day but yeah, that was a Tuesday all right.

Wednesday — Let’s shall, shall we?
Bring me the moon. No, I don’t have a lasso.

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SOCS – Text For Pick Up

Can I tell you how nice it is to be alone in the house?
All week, my family said stuff about doing things today and while I heard them, I didn’t actually actively listen apart from the sections which involved my driving. I simply said “Okay” a lot. As today neared, I began to wonder what the hell was happening, but I wasn’t sure I wanted all that in my brain, because as I said, apart from the driving, it doesn’t concern me. Piecing together the taxi schedule didn’t matter to me.
I didn’t sign up for this event, nor was it assigned to me, therefore, I received no emails about it. Turns out more than one thing is happening. I have no practices, no performances, no rehearsals, no parties to go to.
I got the 9am part. Take Moo. 9am. Roger that.
I woke up to Moo, “MIMOM!”
I had been dreaming. My hand shot up. “I am Mimom!”
Moo said something like, “Mmm, eh, heh rmanrmrr bemmhm lrrrrmnm hmmler m” so I took my earplugs out. “I don’t know which one is the gas and which one is the brake so I can turn your car on and it’s cold already and I want to leave in twenty minutes. Are you gonna get up?”
“My alarm is going to go off at 8:30 and it takes five minutes to get to school.”
“I want to be there early.”
of course you do. i always want to be early to my things, too. this, however, is not my thing.
I slept very well. Reports from The Mister include me snoring on his chest before he fell asleep. I remember nothing. I nestled into him and awoke to Moo. I don’t remember putting my earplugs in or fixing my pillows.
I drove Moo to school.
The Mister showed up at home some time later. He said he caused some sorta ruckus when he left the house, and kept asking me if I really didn’t hear him. I really didn’t.
I had a text from Sassy, “I set my alarm. Please don’t wake me. I will get up.”
I know exactly how she feels. Also, so we’re clear, I didn’t even know she was here, because I don’t know how many things she’s doing and I wouldn’t know what time to wake her because I legit don’t know what time she has to be anywhere, only that I have to drive her at several points today.
When she finally did arise, I told her if she got ready early enough I would take her to McDon’ts. She leapt from the sofa.
I got McDon’ts, dropped Sassy off, and gave food to The Mister before he left to do another thing.
Apparently, I have the house to myself for hours and hours. I suppose I should work in my yard and go to the goddamned grocery store, but I’m not shoulding. Can I read? I can!

SoCs is brought to you by LindaGHill

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I Shine On and I Laugh

I wasn’t shootin for a Beatles theme this week, but here we are, A Day In The Life — or a week o’ mine.

The Mister began, “Taylor Swift passed,”
We all stared at him with wide eyes.
“Wha?!?”
“Whitney Houston in the number of …”
“Oh!”
“Unfortunate pause.”
“Yeah, really not a good place for a comma.”
“Right? I was like, what the hell happened?”
“Killed like Caesar, all her ex-boyfriends took turns stabbing her.”
“Jesus! She’d be minced if that were the case!”

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My husband brought me a huge bouquet of flowers. Gotta take the lilies out special, cause pets. Lilies shine on their own, too.

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Y’all, last Saturday, five of us Motterns went to my office and we hustled files like it ain’t no thang. We boxed and stored and slipped into shred and although we did some sweating, (except Moo, she merely glistens) it was actually fun. The Mister said, “That was so good family time.” I had to agree. I think, sadly, it had been too long since we all worked on one task together. While I had suggested the boy one be paid as he cannot be arsed to work without monetary compensation, we all received overpayment for our services, which tickled the young people senseless. One of my bosses said she would have had to pay professionals more and it would have taken longer. True. Also true? I REALLY wanted it done. (ie, I would have paid Bubba!)

On Sunday night the carpets were cleaned and on Monday I walked into my office of no files looming over my head and I smiled. Briefly. Heh.

There comes a time when you have worked and coffeed and you are hangry and you will cut a bitch if you don’t eat your lunch and that time is 3:28pm. So help me, I will answer the phone with a glob of PBJ in my cheek. I do not give a fuck. Bitches gotta eat. Do y’all read her?

I forgot Papa’s birthday. He’s 79 now. Seventy-niiiine. And in EXCELLENT health. He forgives me. He’s got love in his heart.

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I miss my parents. All of them.

Finally one of the sick people came back Wednesday and when I arrived and saw her car I praised the Lord. She’d be all, “Sorry to bother you…” and I’d be all, “No, no, how can I help?” anything for youuu! What she accomplished on Wednesday allowed me to accomplish so much more and the heavens opened up and the angels sang and when I left Wednesday night, my desk was clear.

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Then I found out we get a new hire in next week. Sweet relief!

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Just like that, all the tension left my body and the anxiety frequency slowed to a hum.

I drove home singing Skunk Anansie like Pavarotti invited me to.

 

 
Unfortunately, we decided to eat Taco Hell for the first time in ten years. One half star, Do not recommend. Cherry Pepsi still yum.

My new shoes arrived. They’re comfortable. No one cares.

Moo announced, “I got good use out of my shaved legs!”
This makes me laugh uproariously still.
“They work whether you shave them or not, right?”
“I wore my shorts!”

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For new adventures in volunteering, The Mister got certified to drive the multi-use bus. The Short Bus. This has provided us tremendous joke opportunities, but this is still my favorite:
“You gotta pick me up.”
“No. Daddy can bring you home on the short bus.”
“No. You gotta pick me up.”
“No. You will ride the short bus with Daddy.

My husband filled Blanche up for me.

My husband changed his schedule. He goes in later. This makes him a nicer person. In my bed.

“Are you coming home now?”
“Yes.”
“Not going to the store?”
“For what?”
“I dunno. Fings we said we needed.”
“Like what?”
“Dog biscuits, trash bags, croutons, somethin else.”
“If you don’t remember, how am I supposed to remember?”
“I dunno. Be a woman. You remember most of it and then you just send your husband back for what you forgot.”
“I see.”

I asked Sassy if she remembered.

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“I had to run a 4:30 to get a B. But first, some back story.”
> insert the long tale of a questionable apple and a subsequent rash <
“So did you run a 4:30?”
“No.”
“Oh no, what did you run?”
“3:45.”

On Thursday, I didn’t have time to door, but I did make time for ice cream.

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Happy Friday Everyone!

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