So… how’s everyone doing? I have about 842 drafts of posts but never seem to be able to finish anything. I could offer a list of excuses but you know, you’ve heard them all before. I am really busy. I am really tired. My house is a mess. My dogs are demanding.
And in those few moments that I do have the chance to pick up my laptop and think about posting, there is suddenly a dog that needs a belly rub. Those little f—ers don’t take ‘no’ very well, and just lay on the laptop’s keyboard, like is there to keep them warm.
I have been traveling a lot for work. Mostly to the East Coast for photography and video shoots. I have a new job – I don’t even remember if I shared that here. Same company. New business group and I am in charge of all photography and video for the retail channel. And thus, that’s why I have been traveling so much.
Speaking of, on my last road trip home, I was driving home across the Pennsylvania turnpike and was starving. I stopped at a rest area, got a personal pan pizza from Pizza Hut – since there was no line there – and I hit the road again. No lie – each of the four pizzas of pizza ended up on my car’s floorboards. I dropped each piece multiple times until they were out of reach, on the floorboards. And of course, when dropping pizza multiple times, most of the pizza sauce was on my shirt. By the time all the pizza was on the floor, dangerously close to the break pedal, I actually looked like I had vomited red pizza sauce.
And I was still hungry.
I had no choice but to stop at the next rest stop, tactfully search for my luggage and made a casual, under-the-radar, unseen dash into the bathroom to change shirts. Of course it was probably the busiest day in the history of turnpike travel and there was a line in the bathroom. So there I was, waiting in line, with pizza vomit down the front of me, on a hot August afternoon in a bathroom line in the middle of PA. I might have well died. And I nearly did. From starvation.
It’s hard being me.
I went into the bathroom stall, when it was finally my turn and came out a new woman. In a clean shirt. The world was mine for the taking. Because, clearly, you’ve met me.
And I got some more food, this time, avoiding the pizza option.
My mom has been great – and been available for dog-sitting when I am not home. Well, except when she abandons us for better offers. I had to take the pups with my on my last shoot but they did great. And, of course, they were super duper cute.
After much reading online at various blogs and DIY sites, I took the plunge and am in the process of finishing up my first attempt using Annie Sloan Chalk Paint to refinish neglected, inherited furniture. So far – its super easy to use and seems to make the furniture prettier than when before. I hope to have before and after pictures to share soon.
Currently, my house is a mess with all the emptying of dressers that had to be done. And, of course, I have hurt my back trying to move furniture. I can hardly stand up right now without pain shooting through me.
Oh – I cannot even recall if I shared – but this past Spring, my kitchen was totally gutted and redone. From the flooring to new stainless appliances and cabinets. I even got granite countertops. The white shaker cabinets go to the ceiling. And, when everything was getting measured, we discovered that my house ceilings were a foot taller than standard. What that means is that I cannot reach even the second shelf of the upper cabinets all that well. I am not sure the added expense was worth that. (I know, I will buy a footstool). Of course, all this remodeling doubled my budget so all I can really do is stand in my kitchen and admire the prettiness, since I had no money to do anything fun other than load and unload my dishwasher. That’s right – after owning my home for something like 12 years, I finally have a dishwasher.
I am pretty much royalty now, or at least I know how they live.
They live with dishwashers.
I still need to pick out a backsplash but that, out of all the things and decisions made, seems too much right now (that and I don’t have the money for it right now). But I want to get it right – something that works with the kitchen and the timeless look and not against it.
Who knows – maybe I am afraid of that final step in commitment.
Anyway – hope to get more up here soon. it’s not that I don’t adore the four or five readers left, it’s just that the days are getting away from me.
“I don’t understand why most rap songs have to use the ’N’ word.” – said a coworker, randomly said to me today. She was at her desk, I was at mine.
Seriously, I am the whitest of white girls. I have no idea why she is telling me this. Or why she continues.
“I just really find it offensive.” she said. I couldn’t tell if she was talking to me, since I was the only other person in the room, of if she was talking to herself or someone else, on a spiritual level. I few minutes earlier, she was going on about how the solstice was coming and that the solstice just really drains people if they don’t slow down. And how we Americans don’t listen to our spirit guides enough. that’s exactly why, she says, why everyone gets sick around the holidays. They aren’t slowing down and relaxing during the winter solstice.
I am wondering if I should plan a vacation during the winter solstice – can I save enough money? And then I realize that it is a few days before Christmas. Who has money then? And even if you did, how relaxing would a vacation be if all those kids out of school were around? that’s hardly relaxing. Just saying. In my head, to no one.
The rap song is on her iPod. She continues to listen to it with one earbud in her ear and I can sort of hear it, bring me back from my vacation planning.
“I mean. It’s not acceptable at all.” she says. I assume she is talking to her spirit guide and not me as the song continues.
“Jesus” she said. “The fresh prince of Bel Air didn’t talk like that.”
Maybe the Fresh Prince of Bel Air had a better spirit guide than the rapper she is listening to now. Just a thought. I do not share it with anyone else. (And it kills me). I think this must be my spirit guide, holding me back. It’s the same one telling me that I don’t need to eat a whole pan of brownies. Sometimes, the spirit guide wins, sometimes, it looses.
I try to not listen to her but she goes on and on. I consider leaving the room at this point but don’t. I do not know why. I curse my spirit guide. Every day, there are choices like that to be made. Stay or walk away. I decide to put my iPod on but only put one earbud in, to still have a chance to catch her rant to the heavens and the room. At one point I hear her still talking about The Fresh Prince. “Will Smith. Now that was a rapper with class. He rarely was offensive. Nowadays, everyone is.”
It goes on. Other rappers are named. Their videos and how offensive that all is comes up. Will never stooped to that level, she says.
I swear it becomes a two hour dissertation on the classy music of Will Smith. Maybe two months. Maybe two years.
Surely the solstice has passed and we should be more energized. I am not. I am pretty sure this is what hell must be like. She is perfectly nice, mousey even and, apparently a huge Will Smith fan. I consider using the exact-o-knife to slit my wrists and be done with it.
A quick death seems like my only escape. My spirit guide isn’t showing any other choices.
The windows of the office building don’t open, I checked. That rules that out.
“But still, the language is so foul. So bad these days.” she says. “Foul and nasty.”
I cannot listen to her whine any more. “You have the power to not listen to it. And even better, to not buy the offensive music.” I say.
I must have finally snapped. I have crap to do, she is a huge distraction and I no longer can listen.
She laughs. Nothing is funny. “But I enjoy it.” she says.
Am I lossing my mind? Did she just not have a two-decade long half-babble, half-rant about the offensive music?
I can only look at her and shake my head.
She pulls out a nail file and files her nails.
And I realize, I need to get the f— out of this place. My spirit guide has spoken. Either escape or embrace the crazy. And, I am not ready embrace it, just yet.
Little known fact: whipped cream vodka can help any old boring drink.
These words can wait.
So I have been gone a lot. Traveling for work. My mother is filling in on round-the-clock doggy day care but there were a few days where the boys had to stay with my uncle. I am so thankful they are easy going pups and everything went smooth.
Speaking of the pups, dog #1 turns 6 on Monday. And on Tuesday, I will have had him for 5 years. Where oh where does the time go?
The other dog, Teddy, had a birthday last week. He’s 4 and this summer, it will be 3 years since he came to live with me and dog #1. The other dog, #1, is 6 today and tomorrow it will be 5 years since I got him.
Seems like just yesterday.
In the past few months, I have lost two coworkers. One to liver disease and the other to a freak accident. We are all so, so, so very heartsick about this most recent lost. I cannot even imagine how her husband and family recover from this.
The most-recent coworker and her husband met at work. He was with her when the freak accident happen. He saw the horrific accident happen.
I am not sure how he can ever recover from that. How he won’t be haunted for the rest of his life, yet alone walk back into work.
I am Amishland in Eastern PA this week. I passed through a covered bridge this morning, on my way to the photo studio and chuckled a bit, as someone had spray painted on one of the pillars leading into the bridge, ‘this is not a photo op.’ Damn it, I really thought it was.
But what do I know?
For the record, I would have taken a picture but it was raining.
At a shoot, the set stylist set down bunch of stuff on the table I was working at and asked if I minded. “Not all,” I said. “But far warning, I cannot be trusted to not them over or break something.”
She laughed. “You make it sound like you’re a klutz and I think you’re very graceful.”
And it was my turn to laugh. “Oh, you haven’t met me.” I said. “At all.”
From my mother, The Diva:
I was recently asked if I tweet. I answered, “No, but I do fart a lot.”
My kitchen remodel is coming along nicely. I really feel like I might almost be a real adult homeowner with this kitchen remodel, despite having owned my house for over a decade. (Yes, I still pull into my driveway and wonder how is it possible that I am adult enough to own a home).
Who knows what is next – maybe real bedroom furniture that doesn’t require assembly.
A girl can dream, can’t she?
We were working on the kitchen over the weekend, when my uncle handed my his pencil and asked me to sharpen it. “I don’t have a pencil sharpener,” I said. “Because it’s not 1954.”
My uncle did not find me funny.
In the end, I did offer up my eyeliner sharpener.
My kitchen is getting to total remodel. The house, built in the 1920′s, seems to hold all sorts of secrets. Like some amazingly cool tile, hidden under a flor and a new subfloor, a reminder of the Art Deco time, now more than a lifetime ago.
I asked my uncle, who is working on the renovation, if we could at least save one and maybe frame it as a reminder of what once was.
“No.” He said, never even looking up from some sort of huge power saw.