Irreverent musings on a summer day

Earlier today, while driving, I had a brilliant diatribe for this space... it always happens when driving--I become absolutely a brilliant composer in my head, and by the time I park, take care of everything and have a few minutes... it is GONE. Well, not the fiction--not usually, just my thoughts on life, because they are oft fleeting and typically not worthy of notation; but I'm fairly certain that I probably had the key to something like the fountain of youth and it is forever lost in the dire need to stop off for vegetables and eggs. And if any of you try to tell me that a healthy diet is the key to that fountain... there might be an accident.

Of one thing I can assure you, cats are not the key to living a youthful existence sometimes. Bowie has spent the last several minutes crying like he's dying... and you know why? He is afraid of his reflection in the mirror. I remove him from the bathroom counter and he's back up there, screaming bloody murder. He is a fierce and mighty jungle beast instill fear into the hearts of those in his path, and that includes him.

To counter Bowie, I turned up the speakers on my iPod... yegods, if the neighbors don't already hate me they now have Bon Jovi at arena level decibels. At least I'm not nekkid... at least, not anymore, earlier on the patio might have been another story... and I wouldn't say nekkid as much as I would say topless... there is a subtle difference.

And now, the crisis of dinner... I have stuff to make, I even found some relatively exciting and new recipes; I did go grocery shopping last night and to farmers market this afternoon... but the crisis is not what to make, but IF to make... Lately, I don't want dinner; I'm hungry, but all I really want is copious amounts of Diet Coke or Diet Mountain Dew. I am willing to fore go food for this all driving want. I know it is bad, I know I should cook something healthy and eat and forget the soda, but I am thinking, I will be in the drive thru getting a soda, or at the 7-11 and not eating dinner again tonight. It makes me worry, one of the memories very strong for me is of my grandma--who rarely ate anything beyond a donut and the rest of her day was spent consuming coffee and cigarettes and a pace I've yet to see paralleled. I don't intend on taking up smoking, but I swear, there are some days I would just not eat and would drink coffee or soda all day so I wouldn't have to bother... that is, of course, if you threw in a few jelly candies or a cookie... I'm not a donut girl.

On that note, today is the kinda day that after sitting out on the patio reading a Shape magazine, one should go and wash one's car--and get a soda.

Mahalo.

Post 500, Voices Carry

The last thing I wanted my 500th post here to be was on the total rudeness of my neighbors. I'm sitting here at my laptop, writing, minding my own business and I hear my neighbors (across the sidewalk) say: At least she's dressed today. I look out and see them look in here. I know they are talking about me, they got all huffy on Friday and grabbed thier child and closed the blinds to their apartment -- and on Friday I wasn't nekkid either, I was merely wearing a bra and panties while I worked and walked around MY home. Biotches!!

They really want an issue, I can give them one. I am really tired of my uneven tanlines... and you know what's more, I am in my home--yes, the blinds are open, but you know, I don't peer into their apartment when their blinds are open... hell I don't even notice unless they are making a lot of noise with their screaming child on the patio... and even then I only look up to make sure the cats haven't somehow managed to get a squirrel.

Nekkid Friday's are really going to have to be expanded... it is the only seemingly possible and rationale solution to this kind of lunacy.

The threat of face cream and the new airport rules

Yesterday, I had to have my bags searched while at the airport... yes, yes, they are onto me. Seems at 5 something in the morning, I'm not thinking clearly about all the rules... I remembered to not have any water on me, get my laptop out and in its own bin, take my jacket off, take my shoes off, strip down to my underwear--just in case... but it seems I forgot to remove my Ziplock baggie (which I conveniently stored within quick reach, but folks, I hadn't even had coffee yet and it slipped my mind since I had Beavis in front of me. So, after searching my pink backpack for the suspicious items, the woman lectured me about the "rules" and that they have to have that out separately because--and I quote--"We can't tell if the items are in a Ziplock bag or not through x-ray unless you take it out." Whaaaaaa? I'm no security expert, and believe me, neither was this woman donned the official looking rubber gloves, but I've seen how stuff looks through the x-ray machine, and of course, there is my x-ray vision, too... Do they think that I somehow packed all items together like that in the backpack on accident? Could it be I used a brand other than Ziplock? Could it all be a trick and my face cream is really that dangerous in an overhead bin without the steel protection of plastic? Could it be that in a moment of sheer rebellion, I TAPED them all, or GLUED them all together to appear as if I was in compliance with airline regulations? I suppose anything is possible.

Well, ok, I survived and I won't let it happen again tonight, though I'm more sleep deprived than I was yesterday... but I have a few rules of my own for my fellow travelers:

1. Please, don't wear a belt you will have to take off. If you must wear a belt when traveling, there is really no need for one where the buckle doubles as a codpiece... obviously outside of Texas there is never a reason to wear that, but do what you will--just not when you are in front of me on the security conveyor belt.

2. A bottle of water is dangerous, please don't try to "sneak" it in past Checkpoint Charlie. If you are really that thirsty, there is water available on the other side of the post for $4 an ounce.

3. The other end of the conveyor belt is not a dressing room. Just because you had to strip nekkid to make it through does not mean you should stand there, tucking your shirt in and looping your belt through ALL the holes (see #1)... That is what your gate assignment is for... you are there 5 hours early, fix yourself up elsewhere, some of us are barely going to make our flights.

4. Believe it or not, you don't have to be the first one on line for boarding. We have assigned seats and they aren't going to suddenly cut the line off after 3 people and kick the rest of us out. So you see, pushing me out of the way to get in line does not mean that you will make it on the plane and I will not.

5. Panicking when you hear them drilling on the side of the plan just prior to take off will do you no good. Remember, this is NWA and the planes are in constant need of repair... your questioning if the whole plane is intact is ridiculous, clearly isn't not or you wouldn't have gotten that bargain fare... and by the way, that's the luggage compartment you hear them closing just prior to take off, so when landing and you hear them "drilling" again, don't exclaim "Oh my god there's that noise again!"

So there are my rules. Commit them to memory, I don't allow second takes, the first offense renders a pink backpack upside the head.

Happy travels!

Things that go on behind open blinds

So, all in all, my adventures in hula hooping is going well enough. It's a lot of fun. I created my own iTunes mix of Hoola Hoop music, but it seems to break my blog when I add it... this will mark the second time I've reposted this!

I did notice my neighbors watching the other day as I hula'ed in front of the TV (and the patio door). Not nearly as startling as the revelation this morning that the other neighbor was watching me get dressed. I had forgotten, or just not realized (cared) that the blinds were open in the bedroom window and was surprised to see a neighbor--clearly not laughing--leaned over his balcony to see into my bedroom. At least I can say that I was not doing anything that was considered outside the standards of normalcy and decency by any conventional definition. At least I wasn't nekkid hula'ing... now that would be simply terrifying!! And definately not decent.

Now, whether it is normal or decent to be photographed while hoola'ing in one's SuperGirl jammies is a whole other estimation.