Inspiration Can Be Snarky

Y’all enrich my life. You really do, thank you. I learn so much, am inspired so often. I simply cannot thank you enough for your online interaction.


However, I’ve been looking over your resolutions and I realize few of them will impact me personally and as a person, I am affronted. If you truly aspire to make the world a better place for me, I’ve got some suggestions:

Do your art. Write, paint, build, draw, sew, knit, restore, collage, garden, cook, bake, write songs, take pictures, create whatever pleases you — and SHARE.

Drive as if there are valuable humans in every other vehicle on the road.

Know your own reason before making an argument.

Don’t be a person with a two-and-a-half minute outgoing voicemail message.

Try gratitude.

Listen to your conscience and keep it clean.

Put the cart back in the corral.

When you meet people who have songs about them, resist the urge to sing to them.

Instead of bandwagoning, research and formulate your own opinion.

While exercising, do not allow your grunting and groaning to exceed the volume of my headphones.

Be kind to yourself so that you’re well-practiced in kindness.

Give change, lend a pen, hold a door, remember age before beauty in the ladies’ line.

Do not assume the worst of people.

Know that walking past litter while loudly complaining about litterers is not the solution.

Honey. More honey. Still more honey. Then, if absolutely necessary, vinegar.

Trust your gut.

Do not include me in group texts.

And finally,

If you’re already my kind of person, thank you for doing your part and please let me know how I can improve your world.*

If you’re not my kind of person, do try to be, it’s really for the good of all.


*Disclaimer: This joey no longer changes diapers or potty trains anything. This joey has weak hands and her own economic demands.

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Pause

We have finished the leftovers from Christmas dinner. As part of it, I made Martha Stewart’s mac n cheese, which was suggested to me by Receptionist who DOES go on about it. I thought the recipe was a bit fussy compared to mine — hers involved pre-warming the milk and constantly whisking, bit fussy, but that Martha, she’s fussy. We all liked it. Although the consensus was mine is preferred, Martha’s mac n cheese reheats like a dream, tastes like it was just made, and there is something to be said for that. Nom nom.

There are still about 50 cookies left. I took some to work and everyone enjoyed them. As you may suspect, I do not work at a bakery, so when one of my bosses raved at length about my cookies, telling me those thumbprint cookies sell for $3 a piece at Panera and they’re not as good as mine, and then added, “You missed your calling,” it was quite awkward. Following that, I had to take him a draft which I know was not as impressive as my shortbread. However, I’m certain my draft was better than any baker at Panera could write. The revisions will be on my chair in the morning, so we’ll see.

I like knowing there’s a two-day pause in the middle of my week. I keep saying I worked Monday, but my Monday was Thursday and this week also has Thurmonday. I have driven my husband crazy about days and dates.

Everyone’s doing a sort of inventory or reflecting on 2019 or setting goals for 2020 and it gave me pause. I’m over here like “The sheets are clean and dinner’s in the oven” because I tell ya, I don’t need the end of December to remind me —

I’m overdue at the eye doctor and the dentist.
I colored one whole picture this year.
I only read 15 books.
My name isn’t listed on the YMCA 3x a week roll call.
I missed most of the photoaday prompts in December.
I fell behind at blogging, not only in December, but every single week all year.
Facebook thinks I died.
The gutters aren’t clear and the back hallway is not finished.

However, I have worked hard, and I must say, I have wifed and parented exceptionally well and I’m okay if 2020 ends the same way.

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I Believe in Christmas Eve

Can you believe my girls are at swim practice on Christmas Eve morning? Can you believe The Mister’s at work? Can you believe I’m home? I am!

I’ve been home a lot for four days and often by myself. Well, with pets.

I’ve had naps, too.

I read blogs this morning and I had time to enjoy music within blogs and now I’m listening to ELO “All over the wooooo-ooooo-rrrld everybody got the word” and I feel positively giddy! In a few minutes, I’ve got to go collect the babies and then I will return with the happenings.

I forgot I told them we’d get coffee after, and I had taken the dog so she got a pup cup, too. We are all done. The girls and I are all done, nowhere to go until Boxing Day. What a rare and special time. I can barely believe this is happening.

The weather is also unusual. There’s still snow on the ground and in the branches here and there, but it’s sweater weather. High today is 11C/51F and tomorrow? Christmas? Nearer to 15C/60F! Can you believe that? While I prefer a white Christmas, honestly, this sunshine is amazing. The skies are blue as blue can be.

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Can you believe that sky?

I tell you another unbelievable thing — all the cards were sent and all the presents are wrapped.

The agenda is BAKING! Baking, baking, baking! Yay! Lots and lots of iced sugar cookies and thumbprint cookies because those are my favorites, Snickerdoodles for The Mister, and then a few batches of things with chocolate, because people do like chocolate. That, I’m sure you can believe.

Moo has begun to build her gingerbread house. The holiday is on! Now, if they’d just send my husband home…

Happy Merry Everything to you all!

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A Brave New Coat

Several years ago, I wrote a post about Ye Old Barn Jacket.

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This is the official retirement post of Ye Old Barn Jacket as we have entered a new outerwear chapter entitled A Brave New Coat.

That means this is a post about clothes and shopping and while these are unusual topics for me, sometimes I just really want to talk about grave issues like my struggle to get out of pajamas. I presume some of you have the same challenge, although I am aware some of you wear shoes from dawn to dusk even in your own home, and that some of you can literally pair any shirt with any pair of jeans with a choice of brown or black shoes and TUH-DUH! you’re a man ready to conquer the world!

So, I have worn my barn jacket for more than twenty years. People do go on about it.
“I can’t believe you still have that!”
Yeah.
I have had other coats. I have. I have other coats even now. I simply preferred to wear the barn jacket. Neither the shape nor the color is flattering to me, but I don’t wear my barn coat and ask the mirror who’s the fairest. It’s not a nice coat. It doesn’t look nice. It looks utilitarian. You know why? Cause it is. It’s highly functional. It’s warm, but not too heavy. I can move freely in it, even when it’s all fastened. It’s got some texture, but basically no structure. It’s lined with actual flannel. It’s got pockets so deep, it’s basically like wearing cabinetry. It’s machine washable, but who cares, because it repels pet hair anyway.

Fancy blue wool dress coat and fancy gray wool peacoat are heavy and have shallow girl pockets and stupid belts. Stupid belts! Open, they just hang there, makin me look unkempt. They must be buttoned-up. They must be dry-cleaned and frequently de-linted. I have to take them off or at least flip them up to drive. I can’t move freely in them. Hell, I can barely hug people in them.

The thing is, I wanted a coat that would be as practical and comfortable as barn jacket, but new, and in a Joey-friendly color, and would look nice with my everyday life clothes. I had NO IDEA this would be such a freakin ordeal, which is what makes it blog worthy.

First things first, I searched for a new barn jacket, or field jacket, but in sunshine yellow or powder blue. Nope. Not a thing. Color, it seems, is the hardest part of the coat search. Coats are, in my opinion, all too often black, burgundy, and olive. Not good. Adding insult to injury, the brighter colors include mustard, teal, rust, and raspberry — which make me look contagious. The paler shades include blush and silver, which make me look like I haven’t slept since the last time I bought a coat. I realize that this is because of the seasonal palette change, but MY palette doesn’t change seasonally.

Enter, the puffer coat. Puffies! Puffer coats come in happy colors like white, too blue for the sky, and pinker than Hello Kitty’s bow. Yay! Color!
I need something that covers my bottom a lil, cause I wear a lot of longer tops. Great, puffer coats come in various lengths!

The puffer coat is not for me. Not light, not medium, definitely not heavy and, not in any of its various lengths.

They are all some version of (if you’re local, Bob Gregory’s kid) and if not, this:

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It’s like wearing a blood pressure cuff for a shirt. And hot as fuck. Wow hot. So hot. If you like seat warmers, electric blankets, and saunas —  a puffer coat might be for you. If you’ve ever wanted to know what it would feel like if fire gave you a big bear hug, I reckon a puffer coat would help.
Where am I going, Neptune?

Also, I’m not tryin to catch a snowman and I don’t like clingy apparel, but for the sake of sundaes, anything that makes ME look shapeless, anything that is so puffy, my waist and bottom disappear, well, that ain’t right. It ain’t right.
Am I still a woman, or am I the lovechild of Rainbow Brite and The Michelin Man?

My parents look NOTHING like that.

I know oversized hoods are all the rage, but I am not an infant. I have been holding my own head up for more than 45 years now and I don’t want to feel like I am carrying a toddler on my shoulders or a jug of water on my head. Puffer coat, no. Oversized hood, no fuckin way.

Also, why must our coats be packable now? Where are all these people GOING?!? What is that? Are so many people traipsing about in tank tops when the temps drop 50 degrees? I think these packable coats should come with those travel cups that promise 8 hours of fire and 20 hours of snow. Is everyone else having Patagonia-esque experiences while I taxi kids and run to the post office quick? Crossing a rope bridge when suddenly, snow! Do their iPhones not have weather apps? To whom do these things happen?!?

So I eliminated wool and puffers and that took me to lightweight parkas. In black, cranberry, midnight teal, neon asparagus pee… right, so then we’re back to color. Hunt, hunt, hunt. Something with a lining. Hunt, hunt, hunt. Something with deep pockets. Hunt, hunt, hunt. Then the sizing. Hunt, hunt, hunt.

I need y’all to know there is only one coat in the entire universe that ticked all my boxes. I got it in orange. Orange you glad that ordeal’s over?
A Brave New Coat.

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Whiteout Blip

It’s doing the snow. School was on a two-hour delay, so I was, too. Then it snowed again. One of our bosses was all, “Go home before it gets bad” and we did. I am grateful I did not have to make that drive in rush hour madness. I slid twice — once slowing and once turning.

There was chem study at my dining table, but it turned into linguistics. It seems Moo and I are deficient in pronunciation of tin and ten. We both say ten for both. Apparently. To us, those words are homophones and we need context only for spelling. Sassy and I said ten and ten to one another ten times and I didn’t understand the point. She was trying to help me say tin and I kept saying ten. I lost. Play that game at home and let me know how you do, will ya?

The Mister grilled burgers. Yes in the snow. We’re Hoosiers. The tomatoes were perfect. It’s December and the tomatoes were perfect! The lettuce was crisp. Burger was delicious. I am full.

We have once again fallen victim to commercialization and have purchased prezzies for the spawn. They are good and interesting people, clever and hilarious, and we’ll spoil them as we see fit. Now I look forward to wrapping. Wrapping is my favorite. Wrapping may be the cats’ favorite as well.

There is no robocall, no email about tomorrow’s school schedule. They like to wait until 5:11 am and that is the suck.

It’s after 10. I’m yawning. Tomorrow’s Tuesday. Bless.

Posted in Personally | 54 Comments

Lit

So, how’ve you been? I’d know if I’d read any of you since Monday, but I have not. I’d apologize, cept, I long ago figured out there’s not enough time to enjoy all the good stuff of life causa all the ‘Must’ and ‘Sposta’ crap that gets in the way. This is why it’s so important to live where you belong, with the right person, and to pursue work you enjoy.

Gosh, you know, I could be livin in some hot, barren landscape with some stupid, wretched man — my only escape a job where I wear a suit and talk about sport statistics…

Lawd.
Make good choices, Kids.

So it’s that time of year. Time to eat barbecue pork on challah while sitting next to my Buddhas under my hamsa while O Holy Night plays… or this one, this one’s good:

I erected my Yule tree like a proper pagan. Mine is decked out in silver and gold, but it’s not cut from the forest — it’s prolly not even BPA-free.

In a stunning act of self-service, I went to the post office for myself, where I bought stamps for myself. Winter berries. Quite pretty. For holiday cards, you know. Cards pushing my radical liberal agenda — Joy. And Snow.

I get FIVE days off this Christmas. Today I bought ten pounds of flour and four pounds of butter, and most importantly, a metric fuckton of rum. I’ll show you merry and bright, lemme tell ya. Runnin a lil preview tonight; got my nog, got my dog, got my blog. It’s pretty lit.

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Something Crippled This Way Comes

Last night while I was writing my blog post, the girls were in a swim meet across town. The Mister got the text that Moo had dislocated her knee. For several minutes that seemed like hours, that’s all we knew. Then we got additional information and now I have all the information because it’s been twenty-four hours.

Moo’s knee popped out while backstroking 100 and she still finished her race and another swimmer told Sassy, “Hey, your sister’s fucked up.” Sassy abandoned her snack, slipped and fell on the deck, then ran to the end of the pool where she pulled Moo out. Then she walked her to the locker room, examined her knee, and popped it back in place, because as a lifeguard, she has been trained. *heart heart* And that’s her Moo. *gush gush* So Moo iced and elevated and came home on crutches. When The Mister collected them, one of the coaches said Moo had hobbled over and asked, “How’d I do, Coach? What was my time?”

And we are so proud. Just ridiculously proud. *grins*

No school today. I called Moo’s doctor and if you can imagine, she is out til Monday. Nurse recommended urgent care, so I made a save-a-spot appointment for the afternoon.

At urgent care, they x-rayed Moo and determined she will take a week off from athletics and then she may ease herself back in according to her own comfort level. She’s going to take her anti-inflammatory and spend time with her leg elevated a la icy boo-boo compress.

Moo never could sneak up on anyone, she’s light as a feather with a heavy heel, but now? Click-Clack-Hop, Click-Clack-Hop, you can hear her from anywhere in the house. Something Crippled This Way Comes.

What a tough cookie, what a relief!

Signed,
Grateful & Proud

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My Birthday is on a Stupid Tuesday

But it wasn’t all stupid.

It was 55 and rainy.

The photo prompt was my favorite color.

thanks, maman

My bosses brought me lunch. Buffalo turkey poutine.

it was delicious

My mother sent me flowers.

My husband offered to take me to dinner, but I was too full from lunch, so he brought me this coffee instead.

venti caramel brulee latte

Took my annual progression selfie.

this is 46. dirty hair, clean face, mascara, no filter

For some reason, there’s been a big to-do about photos from ten years ago v now, so I pulled mine together for this occasion.

2009 v 2019

Do we all want me to get highlights again? I think we do. The gray just isn’t as bright and sunny. Yet.

A reminder, it’s not sunburn, it’s rosacea. We lives with it. It prefers Indiana winters to Georgia summers, same as me.

The 2009 me isn’t as satisfied as the 2019 me. That poor woman is riddled, positively riddled with anxiety. She is not livin in gratitude, she feels burdened. I can see it in her bluer eyes. She has a brighter smile, but it’s not as frequent and doesn’t come as naturally.

At 40, I started this Every-Year-On-My-Birthday blog post thing as a way to combat society’s insistence that we partake in all things anti-age. I’m the perfect candidate for this campaign because I do not think now, nor have I ever thought that my value as a person is based on my appearance EVEN THOUGH I’m a woman.

I am function over form. Our eyes are windows to our souls, our faces our canvas for expression, our bodies are tools. Nearly everyone gets a broken model and a strange environment to begin with, and it’s what we do with it, how we use it, that takes us places.

My mother, a proponent for me pulling my hair out of my face and applying lipstick, still told me it’s what inside that matters — along with a host of other aphorisms too long to list — point being she taught me to cultivate my interior. Cultivating one’s interior takes as long as it takes. Every day granted for personal growth is another day that ages our faces. And?!? Eventually they’re going to fall right down. Our faces are gonna hang there off whatever cheekbones we’ve been given, our giant noses growing, thinning loose skin composed entirely of hatch marks, freckled and blemished, drooping eyelids that are surely tired, alien hairs sprouting from hell knows where, and about this natural process, we should all be concerned? This is what you’d like to win at in life? I think I will be a lot more concerned about the quality of my life than the reflection in my mirror. As I am now.

I encourage you not just to accept your face, but to appreciate it. Moisturize it, put sunscreen on it, give it a hat — but also, smile at it.

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Update, She’s Alive

I wrote a doors post last week. I didn’t actually post it, but dammit, I wrote one. This week, you get this:


I picked that up on Instagram, which I am more consistent with, but not dedicated.

What am I dedicated to? Well, there’s Scrabble. Oh, and Two Dots, which is a game people play when they want to hate themselves until they declare they’re brilliant strategists who then hate themselves harder — a vicious cycle of addiction. Also, there’s The Crown, new season now streaming. And of course my undying love of all things bed — pajamas, pillows, quilts, my husband.

Also, I have done some odd things, like clean my bathroom grout. I don’t really believe in clean grout, but I was already down there with the scrub brush. That might not happen again.

I need to find myself on a ladder cleaning out my gutters, but it is so much more fun to sit inside with the fam.

The season is upon us. No, not that season — Swim Season! This year we have two swimmers and we don’t even have to sit twice as long. In fact, all this really means is that we buy more food and that’s a small price to pay for a double dose of parental pride.

It’s darn near Thanksgiving and it might be time to thank your parents for the years they spent driving you wherever and just bleedin money left and right. I thanked my mother yesterday. All she could say was that she’s proud of all of us, but I’m sure it felt nice to be thanked. I wouldn’t know.

Things have been busy at work, too. Madness, actually. I’m experiencing clock shock. it’s two and i have 12 hours of work to do…. My desk is — my desk has actually never looked as it does now and if I don’t file soon — well, I don’t know that anything will actually happen. Perhaps the documents will wage war against the post-it notes?
I have a remote colleague I mainly communicate with via email. Ordinarily, I begin my email with “Hi Tilly, Attached please find…” The other day, we pinged back and forth so many times on such a variety of matters, she wrote that she was bouncing back and forth in the files and felt her head was also bouncing. I wrote, “Dear Tilly, I can’t see my desk anymore. If I see your head bouncing by, I’ll do my best to catch it.”
but fuck knows I won’t file it…

I wish I had bookmarked the post on how to get rid of this dreadful WP Block Editor. If you’d be so kind? No no, I figured it out. Oof. It keeps reverting. Dreadful.
Takes me back to cub reporting, but it’s 2019.

It’s cold now. Cold all the time. We had the snows and unfortunately, my scraper was taken out of Blanche for our trip to Florida this summer and when I left work, I had to clean Blanche off with A BEACH UMBRELLA. Heavier, but surprisingly effective. Today it’s going to be in the 50s. A heat wave. I’m going to celebrate by wearing my gold ballet flats. And by not wearing socks.

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The Craptastic Week that Was

That title is inspired by John Holton.

I had a crap week. My family and my colleagues had a crap week, too. I haven’t had time to talk to other people to find out if their weeks were crap, because I was dealing with all the crap that made my week crappy.

Fortunately, I seek simple pleasures and mine for happiness.

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First, let’s not forget the beauty of autumn.

 

And cute creatures, whether they’re furry or green.

Then let’s move to the yummy things I ate over the course of the week. Highlights include coconut pineapple ice cream, carrots and onions with the rich flavor of the pork with which they were cooked, an everything bagel with onion and chive cream cheese, a cinnamon pastry, mashed potatoes with gravy, Dreamsicles, greasy, cheesy pizza, hushpuppies, cheese quesadilla, and of course nature’s edible sunshine — oranges!

Also, our place of quesoeverything is open once again. We have no details, but we have that.

Diva Furnace has run every single time it should.

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My new coat arrived. #makeorangegreatagain

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I voted. As a plus to all the leftness, Ally Bean, the referendum I voted for passed by 68%.

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I have more than enough comp time to make up my sick day, and am fortunate enough be in the group of auto-immuners who can still take the flu shot. I am hashtag blessed to live where flu shots are easily accessible, and to have insurance that covers flu shots 100%. Yes, mine gave me a fever and immobilizing body aches, but I have an arsenal of anti-inflammatory meds! Look at all those silver linings!
!!!
I’m really trying here, okay?

One day, I came home to a clean house with all clean laundry, and I went straight to the bath for a soak, because my husband also tries. (and not just to make me crazy!)

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In the snarky victory column, I present that a month ago, an associate from another business did not like our client-based policy and rudely informed me that not only would she not assist us, but that should would fight us for it. This week, I won. Much as I wanted to ring that woman so I could sing Nana Nana Boo Boo and shout Suck It! at her, I merely danced around my office all aglow with revelry. Cause beneficence and shit.

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I got one of those pet grooming gloves. Yes, it works. It’s totes fantastic and all our animals love it.

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I renewed my driver’s license ONLINE! ONLINE! That is magical! For another five years or whatever, I will continue to look like a blob people from Wall-E, but at least I don’t have to go to the frickin BMV!

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Let us not overlook that today is Saturday. My Saturday began with sleeping in, followed by pancake and coffee service via The Mister. Later, we’re going to shop for chili ingredients. Tonight, we will watch our daughter in an 80s play wherein she dons a dark curly wig…

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Hopefully you got some smiles out of all that, cause I sure did. Have a wonderful weekend!

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