Tuesday, August 31, 2010
What I've read: The Little Giant of Aberdeen County by Tiffany Baker. It was a book that had no idea what it wanted to be. Whoever edited it should lose their job.
As it turns out, I don't have Lyme. Rather, I have the arthritis. Today Lily, my new physical therapist who's about four and half feet tall and weighs about a hundred pounds wet, worked me over Sumo style. She told me I have shitty posture and a hump on my back. I told her that's where I store all of my magic.
Monday, August 30, 2010
This is why I haven't been blogging lately. Because all I have inside of me is upset whiny words. I truly wish it were otherwise.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
My BFF John. My crazy mama. My passel o' cats. And my suhster Angie, she of the ever-listening ear.
Also, here's The Fruitcake Lady to give everybody a little what for on behalf of yours truly:
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Last night we hung out at Bill's house for a few hours. There are really so many things I could say to elaborate. But I'll just tell y'all like I told Angie. An hour with Bill is a lot of fun... anything over that and your life starts resembling a Tim Burton movie: you're pretty sure you're enjoying yourself, but everything's starting to feel surreal. Afterwards, like way afterwards, John and I laughed ourselves stupid doing re-enactments of the evening. Days from now I'll be at work and suddenly get the absurd giggles because a phrase or gesture from last night will pop into my head. Probably it'll be the story about the night thirty years ago when John showed up at Bill's apartment with a bag of lobsters in one hand and an 8-ball of rock in the other and how they spent the rest of the night living like kings. Bill said at 9 o'clock the next morning, John shows back up and Bill says, "Man, I just saw you three hours ago, didn't you sleep?". And John answers, with his eyes the size of dinner plates, "Yeah dude, I slept. I slept like a baby: I shit my pants and woke up screaming."
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
No one wants to hear about my aching, stiff and swollen joints. I know this. And yet I can’t help but put it out there. I also can’t help feeling blasé and bored. I have yet another doctors visit today and so I stayed home from work, swallowing ibuprofens the size of grapes and pretending like there’s not a sink full of dishes to be washed and a pile of clean clothes to be put away.
John dvr-ed Mad Men and we watched it yesterday while eating salad and frozen pizza. I made him pause it after the part where the Life magazine chick tells Peggy she looks ‘swellegant’ and then leans in and kisses her. We had a brief discussion about what folks back then must’ve thought about women who dressed masculine or men who were effeminate. Were they thought of as homosexual or just ‘tom-boys’ and ‘sissies’ and that’s it. Throw a label on it and go about your day. I told John about the time my sisters and I were going through Daddy’s old high school annuals and we came across a certain boy whose name my sister Wendy recognized. She asked Daddy if this boy wasn’t the same boy who had been the first known AIDS victim in our county and Daddy said that he was indeed. So we asked more questions. What he’d been like in school. Was it obvious to everyone back then that he was gay? Daddy said it just never occurred to him. That he’d played on the basketball team with him and yeah, he was a ‘fancy-boy’ and acted kind of silly but no body really cared. I guess when there’s only 30 people in your class you get used to things pretty quickly. Daddy said the first time he ever thought about anyone being gay was in about 1960 when he was 20. He’d found a job a couple of counties over and was staying at the YMCA. I know, right? He came in pretty drunk one night and was fumbling for the key to his room when a ‘fancy-boy’ strolled by him and said, “Hey big fella, how’d you like to take a trip around the world?”. Daddy said, “Hell, this is the first time I’ve ever been out of Lincoln County.”
Saturday, August 14, 2010
What I'm reading: Affinity by Sarah Waters. So far she's my favorite novelist of this century. I'd almost say the same thing about Joe Hill, but I haven't read Horns yet.
What I've read: Changeless by Gail Carriger, and Still Life by Louise Penny
What I'm watching: Inspector Lewis and Wallander courtesy of Netflix
What I'm eating: mater sammiches every day of my life. So far this is the summer of the tomato. Sometimes I eat them with salt and pepper and Dukes mayo between two slice of oatnut bread. Sometimes I eat them plain, like an apple.
This morning I told Mama that I have a hard time opening doors and bottles because my hands go numb and she said, "Yeah, I know what you mean. I've got a jar of pickles in my refrigerator that I've been working on for six months. I feel like one of them damn otters trying to crack open an oyster shell."
Of course no party is complete without John taking at least one profile picture of me holding a beer bottle. I could give lessons on how to be a classy lady.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Last week Rotorooter unclogged our tree-root entrenched drains and then we got a fancy new commode. Or “toilet” as everyone up here calls it. But I can’t say “toilet” without feeling trashy. Anyway, about 24 hours after all that went down, we found ourselves on the losing side of a drain-fly war. Seems the rootering stirred up a nest of them and I swear to all that’s holy in this universe that we’ve got ourselves a veritable plague.
A PLAGUE I tell you!
We’ve ordered some rock-em-sock-em-kill-em-dead stuff off the internets, but for the time being Clorox is my weapon of choice. There’s nothing on earth that Clorox can’t fix.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
More prettiness from Wilmington... six weeks after the fact. We've been having minor computer issues and wound up losing all of the pictures we'd downloaded or uploaded or whatever you call it. Also, for some reason, blogger isn't always privy to my company. I get half-way through a post and then I get kicked off. It's kind of annoying and my patience is super-model thin.
In other news:
My honey-bunny niece Katie B. is pregnant. Word on the skreet is that it's a baby boy and while I'm sure this thrills my sister Wendy to no end because she's -and I quote- "sick of stinkin' girls with their boobies and periods", it's still a very odd occurence in our family as we've only had one in the past fifty years. Literally. Anyway, if the baby turns out to be a boy-o I'm voting we give it a lovely old-fashioned name and then ruin it by nicknaming him "Skeeter" or "Pee-Dab".
Saturday, August 7, 2010
We've finished season three of Mad Men and are now ready to start the new and current season. Other than my doctor telling me I have Lyme Disease, that's about all that's going down. I've been having this issue lately where I think that it's fall instead of summer or I think that it's Tuesday instead of Friday. Not for prolonged periods, but briefly and frequently. For a couple of seconds I think, 'oh good, we can pick up some cider at the orchard this weekend. Wait, crap, it's August and it's two jillion degrees outside.' Whatever, I just want a Lucky Strike and a whiskey. The bouffant hair I can take or leave.