photo credit: PhotographLayne
Hey, hey! The middle-aged lady is one step closer to middle-aged! And that is a cause for celebration. And perhaps botox.
But those are worries for later. Because, well, you know it’s a good birthday when …
photo credit: Jeffrey Guterman
Today’s morning: wake up, make bed, don workout gear, consume coffee, attend spin class with mom, eat, shower. Since then I’ve been holed up in my room trying to get some things done lest next week is a total nightmare. Work, work, work. For an “Unemployed” person, I sure have a lot of work.
But the presents are wrapped, and there is turkey in the oven, and good smells in the house. B&S are here, and there is a general feeling of goodwill and resistance to snap judgments in the air, even if last night I did drink too much wine and made at least one error in judgment, snap or otherwise.
photo credit: Nick Bastian Tempe, AZ
The word “thankful” tends to stick in my craw a little bit, maybe because I grew up in the South and people used to bandy it about as often as “God bless,” “Bless her heart,” and “Isn’t that sweet!” in tones that meant, frequently, the very opposite of what Mr. Webster originally intended.
It’s the word more than the sentiment, though, that bugs me. Because I really am thankful for stuff. I am! I just don’t post it on Facebook a lot, or tell anyone except my stuffed animals.
photo credit: joshua aaron
Happy Columbus Day!
True, it’s one of our more dubious American holidays, placed so closely with Canadian Thanksgiving as to seem a second thought (not that Canadian Thanksgiving is a second thought, at least not to Canadians). Today, many hardworking American folks aren’t even awarded the day off for Columbus’s troubles.
I’m heading to the dentist this morning and I am taking my sweet time about it, because, well, who eagerly wakes up and, bright-eyed and busy-tailed, heads off to the dentist?
Actually, it’s better if you avoid thinking about your dental visit completely, or if someone else takes you there and shouts “Surprise!” and then leaves you there, because if you think about it too much, you’ll psyche yourself out. All that scraping, those tools, the awkward moments where someone’s hands are in your mouth…
photo credit: OndraSoukup
Today I did something I haven’t done in many, many years. I ate at your refined establishment. Well, not really there, but I ate foods from your refined establishment in the car while driving from Norwalk to Manhattan.
The severing of my relationship with you, of course, goes all the way back to a friend’s birthday party when I was in kindergarten, or maybe 1st or 2nd grade. It was one of those overindulgent hootenannies involving a pit filled with colored balls for jumping around in, lots and lots of Happy Meals, and multitudinous snotty children.
photo credit: johnmarchan
It bears occasional reminding that one man’s trash is another man’s treasure. Such is the case for old-fashioned tube televisions with built-in VHS players, for jobs, and even for cities.
Take YUP, for instance. He seems to be happy as a clam, or at least as happy as a recent transplant from a sunny continent to a rain-drenched isle can be.
photo credit: Premshree Pillai
Currently, with brother and sis-in-law-to-be, pondering how completely terrible mornings would be without coffee. Imagine, friends (and substitute tea if you must, or a sip from your flask of Jack D.,) but … a morning without your desired caffeinated beverage, pouring down rain and chilly, where you must put a bike rack on a car and motor away to coastal portions of the state? Unbearable.
Thankfully, we have real, whole bean coffee, ground and prepared for easy brewing in the gray am, and the results are delicious. No Splenda; instead, I am partaking in real sugar, but that barely makes a difference enjoyment-wise (frankly, I prefer Splenda because it’s so much more efficient—I only need 2 packs, while with sugar, I just can’t perfect the measurements.)
photo credit: Hamilton Conservation Authority
Last night I was planning tomorrow night’s rooftop drinks fiesta (calm down; we’ll keep away from the edges) with a friend, and I asked, “What time should I come over?”
“Oh, 7,” she said. “That’ll give us a couple hours of good solid boozin’ before the sunset.”
It’s 2:30 on a rainy Friday, and YUD has accomplished the following:
1) Conducted an interview that she will write up for money.
