The ramblings of a somewhat bawdy, opinionated, pop-culture-loving thirty-some-year-old woman who feels like sharing her random thoughts with the world.
Bright spot on a cold and rainy Thursday morning: Getting retweeted by Joe Manganiello, you know...Alcide from True Blood. The guy I had that lovely random thought about last year?
The cool, mature side of me thinks, "Heh, yeah, that's cool. Who cares. People get retweeted all the time." While the apparent high school-aged immature giggling girl in me is all, "Oh my god, he likes what I said. He saw my picture! Does he think I'm the least bit attractive? Does he think I'm witty? Ooh - he probably just got out of bed when he did that, I wonder what he was wearing...if anything. Or maybe he had just worked out and was all sweaty, messy-haired and shirtless. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod!"
Ahem.
I'll carry on with my gloomy Thursday now, but while I'm filing folders away and eating lunch, you can be sure my mind will be somewhere else. Oh, and the email I received stating that I was retweeted is going in my "saved messages" folder when I need it for another gloomy day. Sad, yes, but a girl's gotta have a little inspiration from time to time.
This is just a little list of things that I want to have or have happen. I don't ask for much...usually.
A cheap alcohol that doesn't give me a headache. Why is this such a hard thing to find?
One of those soul-bearing conversations where you start opening up and just keep going until it all comes out. Then you feel 20 times lighter and you say, "I can't believe I just said all that," but it's okay because it's with one of your best friends and they don't judge - they just understand.
Any manager at work to offer to buy me a cup of coffee the same way they ask the other managers, or ask me if I want something from one of the places they take hour-and-a-half lunches at, or bring in a treat for the whole office. They have the money to do it...I don't.
A day to myself where I can watch whatever I want to watch or have the TV off all day, I can listen to music, sing along, dance, meditate, read, nap....mine to do with as I please.
A body like Peta Murgatroyd. I mean, come on!
I want her body.
Wait..not like that.
Speaking of coffee, a white chocolate mocha, no whip, sounds really good right now. I want one of those too.
A vacation paid for by someone else. Obviously this is the only way I'm going to be taking one any time soon.
A new wardrobe - of course, this should probably wait until after I have the body as shown above. I wouldn't want to spring for a new wardrobe now only to have to turn around and do it again when I'm a size 2. Ha! What am I talking about? My hip bones would never fit into a 2. Let's go with a 4. And that weight loss would have to be instantaneous because I don't want to have to waste money buying the sizes in between.
Laughter. Belly-aching, cheek-straining laughter. I chuckle, I giggle. I want a good laugh.
To be in control of time. It should speed up when I want it to, slow down when things are good, and sometimes even stand still. Why hasn't anyone figured this trick out yet?
For everyone to be happy. Is that really too much to ask for?
I've decided that my husband and son can take the dogs out from now on, or I'm going to have to go out in a burqa. This was not a good weekend for me when it came to taking them out and interacting with our neighbors.
Let's begin with my Saturday afternoon dog outing. One of our neighbors was out and had to pet the pooches. No biggie. I don't usually have much contact with these folks, so it was nice to make a bit of a connection again. Then another neighbor came out with his big dog who is very sweet but very young and rambunctious. Our large dog loves playing with her, but our small dog does not like her...at all. She is never on a leash and of course ran over straight over to our dogs beginning to chase our large one, when...oh, did I forget to mention that I had both dogs on their leashes like a good girl?...the small one worked her way out of her collar and started taking off to try to run away from the crazy pup. Thankfully Neighbor 1 caught her. I let the large one off of her leash so she wouldn't cut off the circulation in my legs as her leash wrapped around them tighter and tighter. She happily played and cavorted while I took the little one out of the hands of the neighbor and tried calming her down while commencing with chit-chat with the neighbors who I never see. Unfortunately, she was trying to claw her way up to my shoulder because she just wasn't fond of the fact that our other dog was playing with this big oaf, and in the process was pushing the neckline of my tank top down my chest, completely baring my bra for my neighbors (both male and female) to see. Our conversation continued and I tried subtly readjusting the dog so she could rest her hind legs on my arms instead of the tank top that was now just about to my stomach, not making a big deal about it, hoping that the neighbors didn't notice the fact that I was all bra and no shirt, but the little shit (my nickname for her) wasn't having it. Thankfully after what felt like an hour, Neighbor 2 had decided it was time to have mercy on me and take his dog back in. I reclaimed our large dog and the little bit of dignity that I had left and went back inside.
After a few raspberry vodka and lemonades I was able to let it go and laugh it off. Then Sunday morning happened.
My morning routine is always get out of bed, use the facilities, start coffee, take dogs out. Nowhere in there do you see "put on real clothes" or "apply makeup" correct? Why bother? Most of the time I throw on a jacket over my pj's, head out the door, stay in my own yard, and I'm back in in under 3 minutes without anyone even seeing me. Well, it was already almost 80 degrees that morning, so I wasn't going to bother with a jacket. I knew I wouldn't be long, so I figured the t-shirt/boxer short ensemble would be sufficient. Of course, things didn't go as they normally do. Nooo, not this weekend. The dogs spotted a neighbor on the other side of the building who I had never met, but he obviously knew them as he called them by name. They started wagging their tails which I guess is the dog signal for come over and say hello. And there I stood. No makeup, raggedy flip-flops that are in dire need of replacement, my husband's boxers, and no bra under the very thin t-shirt that was being blown tightly against my chest by the storm-like southern winds. "Hi, nice to meet you!" I tried not to talk too much as I hadn't brushed my teeth yet either, so he probably thinks I'm incredibly rude, but really...what part of the just crawled out of bed look did he think said "Let's get to know each other a little better?" Was it the serious case of bed head that was being blown around making it 5 times worse? The sheen from my forehead as it hadn't been washed yet? The scowl on my face from knowing that I wasn't going back into the safety of my home anytime soon? Oh, I know...it must have been the not-as-high-as-they-used-to-be high beams. Hello girls!
I think the neighbors have seen enough of me now. I'm going to remain in hiding for a while until I'm sure the memory of what they saw is out of their heads.
During a discussion regarding The Avengers at lunch today, I remembered how I learned about Thor in the first place...learning about the Norse gods in second grade. That made me think about another tidbit of useless yet interesting knowledge stored in my brain - the naming of the days of the week. Now I'm going to share this useless yet interesting knowledge with you. Aren't you excited?!
My husband has been calling me and keeping me updated on the birds and he's proud to report that all 5 babies have moved out of the nest and starting to fly. They're staying in the tree right off of our balcony, but the parents are coaxing them to be a little more mobile. (There is a little sad news about one of the chicks who has a deformed foot and probably won't make it too long out on its own, but we're not going to dwell on that right now.)
Hooray for good deeds that actually have happy endings!
Mother's Day. The day when moms all over the country are celebrated for their loving, nurturing, life-giving, compassionate traits. All of these traits describe my dear husband on this Mother's Day.
A little backstory...the soffit and fascia blew off of our apartment building toward the end of the season last year. Roofers were supposed to come out and fix it, but never really got around to it. Winter came and went, spring arrived and some starlings decided it was the ideal place to build a nest. Figuring it was better than a nest of bees and not having a ladder tall enough to get to it, we let it go.
On Sunday, Mother's Day, the roofers arrived. We knew that there were babies up there. We could hear them every time one of the parents flew up to feed them. Figuring that they had about one more week to go before they could be out on their own, what could we do?
We were just about to head out for a family excursion when the hubster grabbed a box and went out to talk to the roofers. He asked if they could put the baby birds in the box, but when they just looked at each other like Is this guy really serious? he asked if he could borrow their ladder and took matters into his own hands. Now, my husband is only afraid of two things...bees and heights. Fortunately we knew the bees were out of the equation this time, but not wanting to look squeamish in front of men who work these heights all the time, he took the box, valiantly climbed the ladder, and started pulling out nesting materials and baby birds.
There was about 3 feet of nesting materials in there along with 5 babies. They were almost fully-grown, had all of their feathers, but weren't quite ready to leave the nest yet. He placed everything he could find, as well as the chicks, into the box and then wondered what the hell we were going to do with them. He had saved them from the certain doom of the roofers, but now what?
We wanted the parents to be able to find them, so it had to be somewhere close, but not anywhere near the ground where they'd be instant food for the neighborhood cats. Trees weren't secure enough, the roof too steep to put the little box on. After some dwelling and brainstorming, he and our kid cleaned out a Rubbermaid bin, put it on our balcony and put the nesting contents and babies in it. They'd be able to get out of it when it was time, but wouldn't be able to flee in a panic. Hopefully it would be close enough to the original nest for the parents to find them. We had our doubts and figured that in a couple of days we'd have 5 dead birds on our balcony, but at least we were trying.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5 little chicks all huddled in a corner.
And with that, we left on our excursion.
When we got back a few hours later, we saw the best thing possible:
Mama!
The parents had found their babies and were actively feeding them. Seriously...very actively. These things were so big, they were being fed whole worms, they just couldn't go get them themselves...and they were hungry! We'd see one of the parents every 5-10 minutes or so, they'd hop in the box, drop off the worm, fly off to find another one and return. I guess feeding a human baby once every few hours doesn't seem so bad anymore.
Yesterday one of them started getting bold and was trying to fly. This is a very good thing! These little babies might just make it after all thanks to my hubby's compassionate nature, quick thinking, and the fact that he didn't want me getting upset about someone killing baby birds on Mother's Day. Oh, and the bird parents' instincts. Okay - yay to all of them!
Now as long as we can keep them away from the dog, all should be golden.
Today I found out that Jon Hamm is 41 years old. I have mixed feelings about this revelation.
Good News: He's pretty dang close to my own age, so that fantasy of running into him somewhere, him being overwhelmed by my goddess-like presence, having one night of seduction and pleasure after which he becomes hopelessly infatuated with me and I have to let him down easy, seems a little more plausible.
Bad News: He's pretty dang close to my own age. I always thought of him as the hot older man. He's not really older...at all. Try less than 5 years. This would qualify him as being in the same age bracket as I am, so does this mean others see me as being older as well? Great, now I'm going to have a complex....
I don't know what made me think of it yesterday, but someone mentioned a librarian and my mind just started on a roll. A small part of me always wanted to be a librarian. They're stereotypically smart, quiet, somewhat mean and have a very naughty streak. If the shoe fits... They wear glasses, have their hair pulled up, wear long-sleeved, button down shirts and long skirts and walk around telling people "Shhhhh!" And the crazy thing is men have fantasies about these women. Of course, men's fantasies never make much sense.
But then I thought about the librarians at the small rural library in the town I grew up in. Sure, the somewhat mean part of the librarian lore held true, but visually these librarians were nowhere near that picture. They were all middle-aged, wore appliqued vests and matching turtlenecks, and pleated khaki pants or those non-denim mom jeans. They basically looked like they were going to a bad sweater party, but were dead serious about their ensemble. I think most of their clothing came from the Blair Boutique or McCall's patterns. And they always seemed confused by my questions. I guess the subject matter I was looking for was a little off the "norm" for them.
Not the most welcoming of people or places. I think it's time for a change.
With the advent of things like the Kindle and the Nook, people are downloading their books. If you don't want the latest bestseller, the classics are free. School papers are now researched online instead of encyclopedias and stacks of books. Bookstores have places to sit and read and coffee and snack shops.
Why don't we combine it all...and throw in some helpful, friendly, librarian-looking librarians?!
The library I grew up with was two stories (main level and basement), so I'm going to work off of that basic structure .
Main Level:
Welcome to the library! One side of the main level is set up for research and work. Non-fiction books, long wooden tables with desk lamps, computers with internet access, reference books, encyclopedias, microfilm, etc.
The other side is where you relax. The fiction section, magazines, comfortable chairs, fireplace. It's cozy and inviting. You can start a book here before you decide whether or not you want to check it out, or check it out and then read it from cover to cover.
By the way, this level is still the quiet zone. Those breaking the rule will be given a stern Shhhhhhh!
Lower Level:
This is kind of a multi-use level, but it all ties in. First off, a coffee shop. It's a great way to bring more people in and how about you add the fact that it's only open to those who have library cards. Good quality fair trade organic coffee, pastries, soups, seating for groups and singles. And it's NOT Starbucks or Caribou or any other chain. Privately owned by local business-folk.
The children's book collection. Beanbag chairs, murals on the walls, puzzles, activities, places for reading and daydreaming.
Finally a multi-use room for readings, book clubs and lectures.
And to tie it all together, the friendly knowledgeable staff of librarians. They love what they do, love books, they're not early twenties hipsters and not too old to know how to do a Google search. They can suggest a great classic or let you in on the latest new release and they'll probably know of that rarely-heard-of magazine that has an article that would clinch the "A" on your research paper. I'd be happy to volunteer to be the first one...long skirt, glasses and all.
It would be an inviting place to go. A place you wanted to spend your time. The more time you spend there, the more books you read. The more books you read, the more time you spend there. It's a great idea! We'd get more people with the coffee, the right atmospheres for the different functions of a library and we might even get a few extra guys who are looking for the librarians. How could we lose?
Does anyone want to help me out with this? We'll need more librarians...
My husband had a wonderful idea to have a big family/friends outdoor party this summer. We haven't really done that in our years of marriage, so it sounded like a great idea. All I had to do was come up with a list of my friends to invite and he'd take care of the rest. Wow! Even better!
So yesterday I sat down and compiled my list. Not counting the small family that I have, the list consisted of 10 couples. That was it. And to make matters even more depressing, more than half of those people live over an hour away. Some much further than that. I would probably have 4-5 of them show up. All of the sudden I found myself thinking the same thing that I heard my middle-school-aged son ask me a couple of months ago: Why don't I have many friends?
I've always told my son, and I do believe this, that it's not the quantity of friends you have, it's the quality. That I've always had two or three close friends and I can get along with just about anyone, but those close friends mean the world to me. I guess when you grow up and life gets busy and people move away, you wish you had a little more of the quantity.
Having close friends, near or far, is that they'll be there in good times or in bad, no matter how long it's been since you've seen each other.. They're the kinds of people who would give you a place to stay when you finally went off your rocker and had to run from the law...while convincing you to turn yourself in if it was the right thing to do. If you were in the hospital after some sort of serious car accident, they'd make the trip to visit you. Well, maybe. Maybe they'd send a card. Eh.
My husband is the kind of guy who has friends left and right. He could easily fill up a party with 50 friends: People he hangs out with at bars, sees at karaoke, worked with once upon a time. I just don't think any of them are the type that he would call up when he needed to vent to someone or really needed a friend to turn to. I don't see any of them as being "close". Maybe I'm wrong.
I found myself getting jealous of the friends who had moved away. That because I'm still here in the same small town I grew up in and have been working in the same place for almost ten years, I haven't had the exposure or opportunity to make many new friends. You move to a different town and you meet a slew of new people. Some aquaintances, some become close. They are added to your list of friends and the more you move, the more the number increases. Those new friends become the people who get invited to parties, impromptu dinners, get phone calls to help out with things, see their lives day to day...while those of us left in the old hometown are just infrequent email recipients and facebook status updates and "likes".
I even told my husband at one point that I want to move so I can meet more people. He told me we just have to try to go out more. This is a small town. We have nowhere to go but small-town bars. I highly doubt we're going to find new friends sitting in one of those. Well, maybe he might...
Last night I sadly gave him my short guest list. He studied it for a couple of minutes and realized the percentage of people who would show up. Then he thought about who he was inviting and wondered how many of them, even if they lived close, would make the effort to come. We realized that it would probably end up being mostly family and just a couple of friends and wondered if we should even bother.
So that's where we stand. Do we bother making all the preparations, planning, spending money on the park shelter and have a small number of people who barely know each other and really have nothing in common show up, or do we go ahead with it and hope that our friends surprise us and show up?
P.S. I should give a big shout-out to my friends who still live in my hometown. We don't see each other nearly enough, but I'm so thankful you're still in my life. :)
You'll have to forgive my absence. I've tried writing quite a few posts over the past week, but they've gone nowhere. I had a great idea for one on Friday, but my snarky mood was quickly replaced by shock and sadness when a boy from a neighboring town, only a year older than my son, shot himself in an apparent suicide. Twelve years old and at such a point of despair? The other kids, his family, the poor brother who ran for their bus driver to help... Ugh, I have to stop.
Anyway, the bright spot of this dreary weekend was going to see The Avengers. I couldn't wait. I had to see it opening weekend. And I'm so glad I did. It's an amazing movie. Fun. Action-packed. Full of awesomeness. And Robert Downey Jr. And Thor. sigh
All I can say is, if you want an entertaining movie to watch - nothing too deep, no rom-com (blech), eye candy for all, laughs and things that make your jaw drop...go see this. Please. I'm begging you. I need more people to discuss it with. Let your inner geek out!
