Shit done got real

I never wanted to be divorced. But oh well. As Patsy Cline says "People in hell want ice water. That don't mean they get it."

And I have so many questions. Who will rub cramped legs muscles in the middle of the night? Who will help me pull off running tights when I'm too stiff to get them? Who will put lotion on my back? (Old lady in the gym I'm looking at you. You owe me.) Who will pop the zits on my back?

Then I have to remind myself: I will.

And to quote another great American woman, Lady Crawley, upon learning her housekeeper, Mrs. Hughes has cancer: "You must have a million questions right now; the primary of which are 'Where will I go?' and 'Who will take care of me?' The answers are 'Here.' and 'We will.'" (by "we" I mean "me.")

To end, I quote the greatest American writer of this century, Mr. Sam Venable: "Sometimes life hands you a shit sandwich. You either starve to death, or take a bite."

Order up. Side of mustard, please.

Oh Yes I Did...

A friend reminded me this morning about the little group of congregants I enjoy every morning while getting ready for work. There's several of us at any one time, and the cast of characters changes over the years. Certainly even the faces in attendance varies day-to-day. Sometimes one of us is ill or injured, and their absence is noted and health inquired after when they reappear the next time. There are other times when I cross these ladies' paths later in the day and neither of us even blinks in recognition. Occasionally when paths cross and we do recognize each other, we both laugh at our momentary confusion, because we both "look so different in clothes."

I spend almost every morning in the gym locker room.

The group of regulars mostly stays the same, although the random graduate student comes and goes as they matriculate and graduate. But it's funny  how the simple act of getting ready together every morning bonds us to each other. We laugh as we blow out our hair and spackle our faces with makeup. We talk about upcoming vacations, and how we plan to spend our holiday breaks. Many discussions are held about the latest race who is participating in, and advise each other on various sports-related ailments. And the proximity and closeness makes anyone fair game; I've asked total strangers for a hand with a stuck zipper, a bandaid for a razor cut, or to borrow a hair dryer. There are several students whose names I don't know, but we still smile and greet each other cheerily when we meet while getting ready.

Once I noticed a lady snuffling into her face powder and blinking back tears. When I asked her what was wrong she burst into tears and talked to me about her aging mother's health problems. It was only after we talked and she dried her tears that I offered her a hug and we told each other our names. Once I got a resume critique for a job I had applied for and didn't get an offer for. I don't think I've ever felt more naked in my life. And talk about the mother of invention; I've worn sweaty gym socks under my boots, learned to always have a stashed pair of panties, and dried myself off with paper towels on more than one occasion.

This all got me thinking about the craziest thing that ever happened to me in a locker room. Several years ago, I got a short membership to a local gym because the university gym closed for the holidays. I was training for a marathon, and I couldn't take a break from the gym. I HATED IT. There was no community in that locker room in the morning. And it bothered me that everyone walked around completely naked - for Pete's sake it's the middle of winter AREN'T YOU COLD? WRAP UP.

One day, I walked in the locker room to dump off my bag, and there was this sweet little grandmotherly type buck ass booty naked getting ready for the day. I averted my eyes and tried to shuffle out the door hurriedly when she stopped me. And asked me to rub lotion on her back.

Oh yes. I did.

I kept saying over and over to myself this is someone's grandmother, this is someone's grandmother... and I did it and it was fine. But. I think next time that happens I'm going to pretend I don't speak English. 

this has nothing to do with the gym other than it was the first race of the year for amanda and me to run. i won the yazoo beer hoodie in the post-race party - it's a 2XL. i think the guy thought i wouldn't want it, but i have worn it pretty much non-stop since getting it. it's super comfy. and look, isn't that the best two-deaded monster ever?

Today I don't feel like being silly

It's been a day. Well. It's been several days actually. Well - I take that back too. It's been lots and lots and lots of days. Days where nothing goes right. Worse days when I trip and fall for no reason. Days where skirts get left at home and water bottles that are accidentally left on the hood of the car. And several days where things are melancholy and cold and rainy (but not snowy) but flooding and yucky and gray and gross. And cold. So, so cold.

Did I mention the rain? I literally just ran outside to get the mail, tripping between the raindrops in my high heel boots when a car drove past my house and splashed me with a puddle just like in the movies. Except Ryan Gosling wasn't there after to give me a big smooch.

But I felt like writing something, so I'm going to write about something that always can bring a smile to my face.

my happy hat

 

I bet you laughed right now. This hat was in my grandmother's belongings when we moved her out of her condo and into assisted living. Anyone who's had to clear out the house of a Depression-era baby knows what I'm talking about - scads and scads of 'things' that no one knows what to do with, how to dispose of or what it even is.

This is a hand-knit skiing hat as best I can tell. It seems to have been made of leftover yarn, because the pom poms on top don't match at all. One of the cats recently pulled one off and I haven't taken the time to sew it back on.

The day I found it I burst out laughing. I went to the mirror and laughed even harder. It's the most ridiculous thing ever. I kept it, swearing that it would never let me be sad again. If ever I was blue, all I had to do was look in the mirror with this thing on.

I wore it to my grandmother's funeral. I lent it to a friend when her mother was ill. And, it's getting a lot of mileage these days.

Anything for a laugh. I guess I am being silly after all.

Go Ahead and Roll Your Eyes Now

I was a sorority girl. And still am. The University finally got around to building sorority houses and I was at the groundbreaking and am excited to attend the house dedication. Say what you will, but it was the first time in my life that I had other women be my friends, no questions asked. It was also one of the first decisions I made that formed a bond with me between my mother like nothing else could.

I told you to get the eye rolling out of the way.

In any event - I loved it. And believe it or not, I wasn't too terribly a crazy college girl. I mean, I had fun, did silly things, had a good time, and most importantly - I GRADUATED, but really did my rollicking good-time-having with a sense of moderation. All of that to say -

I didn't go on spring break but one time. My senior year, my parents paid for me to go to Cancun with my sorority sisters. And I remember specifically - my mother bought me peanut butter and other hearty snacks so I wouldn't have to spend extra money on breakfasts or lunches. (Heart, Mama! Thank you! I still do this when on vacation!)

Before going, and on a whim, when visiting the campus Walgreens, I picked up a bottle of cheap perfume. I wanted to take it with me to Mexico, and only use it only on that trip. I would keep the bottle forever after, and never use it again. That way, I could open it years later, and it still would remind me of going to Cancun my senior year with my sorority sisters. Silly, I know.

But it worked.

Twenty years later, after graduation, a marriage, six moves, two sets of graduate school, four kitty cats, and one house later... I was clearing out after Christmas and found that bottle of perfume. And I was twenty one and living out loud with my sisters in another country all over again.

told you it was cheap. but worth the $5 i probably spent on it.

me and the girls in cancun

And, as I like to brag on occasion when I have a terrible stomach upset - "This is the worst belly ache ever! And I drank the water in Cancun!"

Word to the wise? Don't.

Streak of Nerd

Via text chat with a (nameless) girlfriend, I was telling her how happy I was for her and her growing family about her (still secret) good news. She was sharing her angst about a big public reveal, given that she anticipated some potential negative reaction from some folks. I kept reading her message over and over again, and kept having the same thought: "I feel happy! I feel happy!"

So I text her back and said: "I keep reading this and thinking about that Monty Python part in the holy grail movie where they are collecting bodies after the plague and they try to get a man who was not quite dead yet and he kept going 'I feel happy! I feel happy!' I feel happy for you."

And she replied, "Huh. Never was much of a MP fan."

And it occurred to me: Golly. I really have a streak of nerd in me.

Don't get me wrong. I celebrate the nerd. I love nerds. But pretty much, basically, my whole life I thought I was pretty darn cool, but then something happens that reminds me that I am, in fact, a great big nerd.

For instance, I was a cheerleader in high school (pretty cool, right?) But I always spent half time with my nose in a book, and over last summer the former editor of the literary magazine where I worked reminded me that I taught her the touchdown dance. I was in a sorority in college (that's pretty cool, right?) but would often freak out my sisters in the sorority dorm when I would return from a bird field in head-to-toe camouflage. Working at the University many years ago, I rejoiced when I learned the interim dean would be coming from the College of Engineering, because I was convinced I was the only one who could speak Nerd.

I love Lord of the Rings. I waited in line to be one of the first to see the new Star Wars films (on several occasions). I named my cat after a sci-fi character. I absolutely geeked out on a season of Star Trek. And, by God, I love Monty Python.

One summer, we had our exchange student, Hiroshi, who lived in my room while I took up residence in the living room pull-out couch. And every night I would watch Monty Python's Flying Circus on MTV, then retell the stories to the children I babysat for the next day. It would make me cry with laughter and still makes me laugh. How many times did Heather Cross and I watch Monty Python and the Holy Grail over the years? And even as I type this NPR just did a segment on Monty Python - it's a sign. Monty Python is the funniest ever.

this maybe what i think is the funniest scene from the movie. 'i built this castle with my own hands. everyone thought i was daft to build a castle in the middle of a swamp, but i built it anyway. it sank into the swamp. so i built another one. it too sank into the swamp. so i built another one. that one burned down, fell over, and THEN sank into the swamp. but the fourth one stayed up!'



thank you, monty python, for making my childhood just that much funnier

When gravity speaks, listen.

Several years ago I woke at my usual 5:30, brushed my teeth, grabbed my bag and headed out to the gym. It was winter, and cold, but I didn't think too much about it until I slipped on the top step of my deck and fell down the whole staircase, hitting each step along the way. One of those falls down where you're lying on your back in the grass and go "Oh Lordy, did I just fall down?"

Not being faint of heart, I rallied, reloaded my spilled gym bag, and went back along my merry little way.

I should have listened to gravity.

After skidding, slipping and sliding to the nearest interstate on-ramp, I found it closed. I was convinced the ice must end at some point soon - this is Knoxville, for Pete's sake. We salt and sand the main roads and call off school if the mercury dips below 32 and rain is in the forecast. After a brief, failed attempt to get to the next exit, I turned the car around and drove the excruciatingly icy two miles home.

Feeling like I'd played my wimp card, I (now, carefully) headed back inside and flipped on the TV.

Where the weatherman was frantically describing the freak ice storm. Where the sheriff was pleading for citizens to stay put. Where the traffic guy was urging folks to have another cup of coffee until the sun came up and the ice melted.

Later that afternoon I made it to work when Mr. Smith called me in a daze, and described making supper when the dish he was using suddenly, and very violently exploded. Not only was supper terribly ruined, glass was everywhere. (not kidding, this was five years ago and I still find the random piece of broken Pyrex in odd locations).  I came home with supper #2 to Mr. Smith desperately trying to unclog both sides of the kitchen sink. (on the plus side, Mr. Smith and I perfected our Double-Plunger-Synchronized-Unclogging routine that evening. It is an unfortunate skill we have employed on more than one occasion since this night.)

After a final cleanup of these tragic messes, I decided, once and for all, if I left the house and immediately fell down, I would, forevermore and for real, turn around and go back in the house. Not for the day or anything extreme like that. For the time being. Just until gravity calmed down a bit.

Fast forward to this morning. I woke at my usual 5:30, brushed my teeth, grabbed my bag and headed out to the gym. It is winter, and cold, but not icy. I didn't think too much about it until I for SOME REASON missed the last step on the sidewalk stairs and fell face first into the gravel driveway. I cried like my 4-year-old niece Lucy did Christmas Eve when she tripped running over a parking bumper. I sat in the driveway a few minutes to get my bearings and had an internal dialog about being a wimp.

Self: That hurt. That really hurt. Now I know why Lucy was crying so hard a few weeks ago. Where's my aunt to give me Hello Kitty bandaids when I need her?

Other self: The Hello Kitty bandaids are in your gym bag where they live. Duh. Now pull yourself together, get your bag repacked and get in the car.

Self: NO. I fell down. That is a free ticket to not go to the gym.

Other self: NO. You didn't go to the gym all last week because you were lazy, and you didn't go to the gym the week before that because it was closed. You said you'd pick it back up on Monday, and that was only yesterday! What kind of example does that set for the rest of the week?

Self: But... gravity is speaking to me right now.

Other self: Will you  listen to you? You sound like a real wimp. Is that what you are? A wimp who falls down and cries? Hmmm? What else you cry about, wimp? Mayonnaise on sandwiches when you specifically ordered sans mayo? Jumping spiders in the laundry room that hide in the washing machine and jump on you when you turn the water on? THAT SCENE IN MIRACLE ON 34TH STREET WHERE THE LITTLE GIRL WHO SPEAKS DUTCH TALKS TO SANTA AND HE SPEAKS DUTCH AND THEY SING THAT DONKIN DEER SONG TOGETHER?

Self: No....

Other self: That's right. Now dry it up, cupcake. Saddle up and ride.

So I repacked my spilled gym back, loaded the car and headed to the gym. I hadn't gone very far when I reached for my water bottle and found it missing - I knew I had it, I specifically remember picking it up and setting it on the hood of the car while I ... CHRIST.

I turned around and found my water bottle in the driveway. I turned around again, and this time I did fortunately make it to the gym, had a successful work out, and headed upstairs for a shower when I found a text message from Mr. Smith that said:

"you forgot your skirt."

GOOD LORD.

So. What's the lesson in this? Gravity is more powerful than me. When gravity wants to tell me something, I had best not ignore gravity. When gravity decides to chest-bump me, black-hole like, down to earth IT IS GRAVITY SPECIFICALLY SAYING GO INSIDE AND GO BACK TO BED. Not forever. Not for the day even, or anything extreme. Just for awhile. Just until gravity calms down a bit.

thanks, gravity. i'm all ears.

Christmas Catchup

Christmas 2012 was different than any other Yuletide I've ever had the pleasure to know. Not all in all bad, but the Mister and I are on the outs, and it was the first holiday we tried to muddle through together. A lot of great things happened, but there were a lot of tears and heartache too. That, and Mr. Smith learned when if you say, "If you're so mad, why don't you hit me?" that hitting will occur. What was the lesson in it for me? That I can't hit. Just ask my bruised right hand. (Psst. I'm a lefty. Rookie mistake.)

A lot of folks advocated doing something learny to occupy my spare time. My sweet Mama in particular kept advocating that I "do healthy things" and kindly would drop whatever she was doing at the drop of a hat to go for a walk with me if I wanted to get out of the house. She kept after me to keep exercising and running, and to find productive projects to work on. Please take all of this into consideration when I say what this led me to do: I took a pottery class. Oy.

The first class my well-intentioned friend Amanda kept trying to coach me on how to keep clay on a wheel going 90 miles an hour. "Use your core strength," she kept urging. "I got core strength out the asshole!!!" I think is what I shrieked back whilst trying to wrangle a flailing two pound ball of mud. Sigh.

It did not go well to say the least - my clay was taken away from me on the first night. LeAnn the pottery teacher calmly stopped my wheel after about an hour, scraped the clay off and told me I was getting too frustrated and to please go take a break.

We had some success the night she reversed my wheel (see note re: lefty) but then I destroyed most of the sad little pots I managed to create when it came time to learn how to trim dried clay. I always got too greedy - I kept thinking, a little more... a little more... a little - GOOD GOD IN HEAVEN. And LeeAnn would go "Oh look! Megan made another planter!"

Sigh.

my terrible, terrible pots. i'm so sorry for everyone who got one for christmas. i was too distraught to buy real presents this year i'm afraid. if it's any consolation, these sad  little pots cost about $20 apiece.

On the plus side, it worked. I did have fun with the ladies in the class and did manage to learn the basics of wheel throwing. Biggest lesson? I have a lot more to learn.

amanda could make perfect pots. i made a perfect mess.

amanda, moni and me

mine are the lopsided ones. the nice ones are all amanda's.

But as for Christmas vacation itself, that was a darn good time. In the first place, my friend Pretty Princess Jacobs nee Landry arrived the first day of vacation. I knew we were going to have fun the moment I turned onto Alcoa Highway to pick her up from the airport - her plane nearly landed on my car (I mean that. Timing is everything.) We jumped in the car and drove up through Townsend to spend a couple of days in the mountains. Being a Gatlinburg newbie, Amanda and I had to introduce Rachel to the go-to epitome when visiting the Smoky Mountains.

boo-yah. the old timey photo.

I love the old timey photo sessions I DO (as evidenced here.) I think I'm sticking with gunslinger from here on out. I look bad-ass.

i asked for, and received, permission to take this photo.

i highlight this picture not to feature the random band but to feature the fabulous green infinity scarf crochet by one mama venable. i wear it everyday!

The next day we go hiking! I was terribly worried about a South Florida gal being in the park on such a cold day! My mother was too. She sent me to the mountains with about every article of clothing she had in the house. When I picked up Rachel and she wondered where she would put her actual luggage she made the comment that she bet everyone thought we were working for a coats for the cold roundup  outfit.

wearing everything mama sent for us

rachel, originally from upstate NY sees snow for the first time in twelve years. it also served to remind her why she moved to florida.  

It turns out, the cold wasn't the problem - it was the ICE.

holding on for dear life over a footbridge

rachel likes to live dangerously however

they like big trees and they cannot lie

at arch rock. the ice was very intimidating here (a woman on the way down panicked and pitched a fit until her son finally had to practically carry her down). it was kinda scary. 

that would be your ice to your right.

big ole icicles - we got to see some of them come falling down. again, a smidge intimidating. i imagine it's like the first time you see a bear outside of your car and you're like OH LOOK for a second and then you're like OH SHIT that could kill me. 

inspiration point being it's ole inspirational self. if scenery could brag, inspiration point would be all, i'm that and a bag of chips. *fabulous snaps*

here's some more inspiration for you

arch rock icicles

this is as far as i wanted to go. it was seriously icy.

We made it back down, safe and sound, and had a wonderful holiday together.

matching pjs were involved, need i add more?

My Christmas Eve tradition involves the ceremonial baking of sugar cookies, lovingly cut out and decorated one by one in a painstaking manner. This year? Screw it. God hath invented Pintrest for me between now and then so I pinned quick Christmas cookies and came up with - tube of sugar cookie dough + Rolo candy = goody goody yum yum. Without further ado (or instruction, pfft, who are you talking to) Rachel and I invented:

sugar cookie madness! we went with the ball technique: i cut circles, rachel balled up one rolo between two cookie slices. good stuff i gotta tell ya. can't really go wrong.

Fun Christmas, and good friends when I need friends the most. Thank you, thank you, more than I can say.

The rest of Christmas break, I redid some rooms of my house. Because that will change my life, right? RIGHT? 

I enlisted two sweet volunteers to come help me paint (Amber quit painting her own house to come out and help me paint SMOOCHES) and away we went. 

And by "away we went" I mean my alarm went off at 8 for a 9 AM arrival of the girls and I think I said something like "Screw this," (Christmas 2012 theme in case you were wondering) when the alarm went off and fell back asleep and awoke at 9:15 to timid rapping on the front door (because the side door said go to the front door cause the fridge was pulled out in preparation of painting). At least I had the foresight to prep, and was telling Amanda of my pre-prep-prowess as I frantically brushed my teeth that I HAD washed the walls the night before and she was all "who washes walls before painting" and I knew I was a painting failure of epic proportions. 

It was also when I pulled my jeans (for the second time) out of the dirty clothes that morning and pulled them on during morning three of no shower that I decided I needed to really make some changes in my life if things were going to get better for  me. So then I french braided my bangs out of my eyes and slapped the whole rest of the lot up in a pony tail. I figured the french braid said "don't worry about the stink, she's still got KLASS." And I pointed the french braid out to the guy at Lowe's that mixed my paint. And the guy at Big Lots where I bought my chair. And the guy at the mattress store who had the gall to point at my 20-year-old paint-ridden for ten years sweatshirt I was wearing and go "Hey! I was a Phi Delt!" 

To which I replied, "Hey, yah? I was a KD in my finer days!" Then I asked him to make note of the french braid. It's a game changer. I'm convinced. 

In any event. Amber and Amanda fancy up my kitchen. A lot of cussing was involved. 

i think at one point i said "i have moonshine!" and meant it seriously. or maybe i said it more than once? or words to that effect. or maybe i was drunk. who knows. i was painting, people. all bets are off. 

I may not be a genius when it comes to painting, but at least:

i was the only one in the house sans orange butt at the end of it

including polly. lord help me now....

I barbered a kitty cat last weekend. I'm adding that to my resume.

Although I overslept, I did prepare the day before and had lunch for my troupe of happy helpers. Since the kitchen was MIA due to DIY, I plugged the CrockPot of chili in the next obvious place:

it makes logical sense if you think about it

So now the kitchen is painted and I two pretty pretty pretty new rooms (guest room overhaul in addition to the kitchen - looks great!) The girls, my folks and I all busted our humps to get it all, but by the time New Year's Day ended we were all in good shape to get back to work. I was so dedicated that I spent NYE putting together one sweet-ass bedskirt for the guest room use and enjoyment. It was made with love. And two sets of old bedsheets.

And 2013 is .... well .... let's just go with 2013 has started. Don't know what it'll bring. That'll do for right now.  Over and out.