Sigh. Labor Day is gone and summer is semi-officially over. Yes, I know, the Autumnal equinox won't occur until the 22nd of this month (at 4:18 p.m. Okie time, to be exact). And yes, it's still too warm outside. But mentally, summer is over.
I don't really remember getting much of a break, not that folks who aren't in academia on some level get actual summer breaks. I think having summer vacation for the first 20 years of your life sets a permanent body clock. Around the first of June you expect to fall into three months of leisure and slothfulness. Well, or working long hours for minimum wage. Really, summer is for lounging around reading endless stacks of books, swimming on lazy afternoons, learning to water ski, or chasing lightening bugs. It's about oiling up with baby oil and feeling my skin sizzle in the heat. Ah the 70's. Ah the skin cancer.
Being a big fan of NPR, I've been listening to their ongoing discussion of songs that remind people of a summer in their past. I've tried to focus in on a song or two that conjures up a summer memory. The only song that brings a strong memory is anything by Elton John. B-b-b-Benny and the Jets, Sorry Seems to Be The Hardest Word, Someone Saved My Life Tonight. Did the man perform any songs with less than five words in the title? Oh, I guess there's Daniel.
Anyway, anything sung by Elton John immediately transports me to a rented greyhound-like bus filled with sweaty teenagers traveling across country from Kansas to California and back. Somebody thought to bring along their collection of mixed tapes, with songs copied from their 8-tracks or record albums back home. Elton John's falsetto streaming from the speakers, sweaty couples making out, girl-cliques forming and un-forming as fast as the miles rolled by. All of the adults apparently safely at the front of the bus.
I guess I'm nostalgic for all the 70's songs as I make plans to attend my 30th high school reunion. There were some great songs in the 70's. And yes, there were some really, really bad songs. This has to be high on the list of worst songs ever to make it to the top of the charts. The sad thing is, Mark and I can sing every word.
Showing posts with label what was I thinking. Show all posts
Showing posts with label what was I thinking. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Thursday, May 7, 2009
I'm not Grace Kelly
I've gotten so used to hiding indoors, trying to stay dry, that I almost didn't know what to do with myself when the sun came out for about six hours yesterday. Mark went to mow the overgrown grounds of The Wilds all evening, so I took advantage of the free hours, hopped in my car and took a drive with the top down. I drive a convertible, but in Oklahoma perfect convertible weather is very rare. Too hot, too cold, too windy, too wet. Plus, the inside of the car has to be clean so you don't have trash swirling up and out of your car like an overloaded trash truck. Not that my car is trashed or anything. But who wants the receipt from your last trip to the drive-through ATM to go flying out, or that empty Sonic bag to jump out and pummel the unsuspecting driver behind you? Conditions have to be just right to put the top down.
Last night was one of those rare occasions. I wanted some flowers for the front flower beds, and the trip to buy them wouldn't involve any interstate driving -because I also don't like driving on the freeway with the top down...too windy - so down came the top. Yes, I'm picky.
Maybe I'm just not a convertible type person. I'm very private. I know! You're thinking - she writes a blog and is on Facebook and Twitter. But I decide what to put out there. The level of shareage is up to me. When I drive around with the top down in my car I feel very exposed. It's like "Hey everybody, look at me! I'm wearing sweatpants and an old t-shirt because I've been working in the yard". I feel like I should put on big sunglasses and a cut little sweater and wrap a scarf around my neck like an old Grace Kelly movie when driving in a convertible. Most of the time I feel like "Yes, I'm driving a convertible, and yes, I'm just not that cool".
If I asked my mother, she'd say that no one is looking at me. She used to tell me that in junior high when I felt awkward or was embarrassed by something. She'd point out that really, no one cared as much as I thought they did. But really? When I'm sitting at an intersection waiting for the light to change, I'm pretty sure people are looking at the person in the convertible. I would be.
I'm thinking I should embrace the inner extrovert that is trying to find its way out of the dark cave of my introverted life. If you've got it, flaunt it, right?
It looks like it's shaping up to be a rainy morning, so cave dwelling is acceptable for another day.
Last night was one of those rare occasions. I wanted some flowers for the front flower beds, and the trip to buy them wouldn't involve any interstate driving -because I also don't like driving on the freeway with the top down...too windy - so down came the top. Yes, I'm picky.
Maybe I'm just not a convertible type person. I'm very private. I know! You're thinking - she writes a blog and is on Facebook and Twitter. But I decide what to put out there. The level of shareage is up to me. When I drive around with the top down in my car I feel very exposed. It's like "Hey everybody, look at me! I'm wearing sweatpants and an old t-shirt because I've been working in the yard". I feel like I should put on big sunglasses and a cut little sweater and wrap a scarf around my neck like an old Grace Kelly movie when driving in a convertible. Most of the time I feel like "Yes, I'm driving a convertible, and yes, I'm just not that cool".
If I asked my mother, she'd say that no one is looking at me. She used to tell me that in junior high when I felt awkward or was embarrassed by something. She'd point out that really, no one cared as much as I thought they did. But really? When I'm sitting at an intersection waiting for the light to change, I'm pretty sure people are looking at the person in the convertible. I would be.
I'm thinking I should embrace the inner extrovert that is trying to find its way out of the dark cave of my introverted life. If you've got it, flaunt it, right?
It looks like it's shaping up to be a rainy morning, so cave dwelling is acceptable for another day.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
My daughters are smarter than this
Ode To The Bachelor
Train wreck
Rubber neck
It's not me, it's you
Bad hair
Dirty underwear
What's a girl to do
Yes folks, it was a train wreck and we watched, just like those folks on the highway who can't help but slow down and rubber neck, hoping to see a dead body on the side of the road. And there were dead bodies. But it's not you, it's me, he says. Meaning, it's so you and I'm outa hear faster than you can say "Hi, my name is Jason, and I make stunningly bad choices".
Hi Jason.
Frankly, I was shocked he didn't change his mind again after seeing Molly's hair. Seriously, you're seeing the man you love and lost, and on national television, and that's what you chose to do with your hair? I read on Chris This-Is-The-Final-Rose-Harrison's blog that the women do their own hair and makeup. Um, yeah.
Airing your dirty laundry on national television makes for good ratings I suppose. Jerry Springer for Prime Time. But I can't say much. I watched. I couldn't help myself.
Train wreck
Rubber neck
It's not me, it's you
Bad hair
Dirty underwear
What's a girl to do
Yes folks, it was a train wreck and we watched, just like those folks on the highway who can't help but slow down and rubber neck, hoping to see a dead body on the side of the road. And there were dead bodies. But it's not you, it's me, he says. Meaning, it's so you and I'm outa hear faster than you can say "Hi, my name is Jason, and I make stunningly bad choices".
Hi Jason.
Frankly, I was shocked he didn't change his mind again after seeing Molly's hair. Seriously, you're seeing the man you love and lost, and on national television, and that's what you chose to do with your hair? I read on Chris This-Is-The-Final-Rose-Harrison's blog that the women do their own hair and makeup. Um, yeah.
Airing your dirty laundry on national television makes for good ratings I suppose. Jerry Springer for Prime Time. But I can't say much. I watched. I couldn't help myself.
Monday, January 5, 2009
File Under What Was I Thinking
After our heart-to-heart with the precious in-laws last week, we rushed home and started working on the house with renewed vigor so we can sell it. Mark removed 38 bags of leaves from our yard. His method is to mow over them so that they get sucked up into the mower bag. It beats all that back breaking raking. We had a used leaf blower/sucker thing for a short period of time, but it sucked. Or didn't, to be more precise, and so it went into the garbage. Anyway, it was a beautiful day on Saturday, as random days in Oklahoma's winter can be. I'm pretty sure it was in the 70's. Angela came over and helped him cut down a small tree and Riley brought over a load of dirt he had dug up somewhere and filled in some of the many holes their dog, Sadie, has dug in our yard. So now it looks less like someone was practicing their pyrotechnic skills by throwing homemade bombs of various sizes randomly into our yard.
Speaking of dogs, while we were out of town Angela called to say there was an extra dog in our backyard. I told her to count again and she kept coming up with three, which is odd because our yard is fully enclosed by fencing, some of it 6 feet tall. Usually dogs escape from yards. It's unusual to have a dog break into ones yard. So while I looked up the number for animal control, she went next door to see if by chance Mr. T had added another dog. Sure enough, he claimed the dog and came over and for some reason attempted to heft the dog back over the 6 foot fence, and in the process got a large cut under his eye. I don't think that dog got any doggie treats that day. Saturday when I went to feed the dogs, there were TWO extra dogs in our yard. I'm thinking, I know we love our dogs and treat them reasonably well, but really, who gave them the OK to go out and invite all the neighborhood dogs over to the party? And how are they getting in? But as I watched, the visitors scrambled back under the fence into Mr. T's yard by way of the Stalag 13-esque tunnel they had built while we slept. Apparently we are West Berlin to Mr. T's East Berlin.
Anyway, while they were out putting the yard in shape, I was busy in the kitchen because it's the last hold out in the list of rooms that needed to be remodeled. We had decided on a minimalist plan for this remodel. No knocking down or building walls or tearing out cabinets to be replaced with shiny new ones. Our plan was just to sand and paint the cabinets, replace the cabinet doors, replace the sink, faucet and counter top and tile the back splash. At least for a start. Here's the before pic:
But of course, nothing is EASY in this old house. Did I mention that there are no water shut off valves in the house and if you want to work on any plumbing you have to go lie on your belly in the front yard and turn off the water at the meter, which is in a hole in the ground? Did I mention it is now about 20 degrees with a windchill of -30? Did I mention that our mad skills do not include plumbing apparently, because this is now what our faucet looks like? The paper plates are redirecting the water dripping from the not-so-well-installed fixtures.
It's really no big deal to dash out in the nose-hair-freezing day to turn the water on so we can flush the toilets. Hopefully the plumber can come tomorrow and get us all set up. I'm just trying to remember why it sounded like a good idea to start this at the END of a week of vacation.
Oh, and Tessa is scheduled to have her wisdom teeth extracted today. And let me tell you, she is taking it well. She has written out her will and made her final requests and bequests and is prepared to meet her maker. Fortunately she will be asleep during the procedure, and even more fortunately, I'll be in the waiting room. But it was a good excuse for taking the day off of work. I need to prepare the ice cream and mashed potatoes, and prepare to nurse her back to life as she knew it.
Speaking of dogs, while we were out of town Angela called to say there was an extra dog in our backyard. I told her to count again and she kept coming up with three, which is odd because our yard is fully enclosed by fencing, some of it 6 feet tall. Usually dogs escape from yards. It's unusual to have a dog break into ones yard. So while I looked up the number for animal control, she went next door to see if by chance Mr. T had added another dog. Sure enough, he claimed the dog and came over and for some reason attempted to heft the dog back over the 6 foot fence, and in the process got a large cut under his eye. I don't think that dog got any doggie treats that day. Saturday when I went to feed the dogs, there were TWO extra dogs in our yard. I'm thinking, I know we love our dogs and treat them reasonably well, but really, who gave them the OK to go out and invite all the neighborhood dogs over to the party? And how are they getting in? But as I watched, the visitors scrambled back under the fence into Mr. T's yard by way of the Stalag 13-esque tunnel they had built while we slept. Apparently we are West Berlin to Mr. T's East Berlin.
Anyway, while they were out putting the yard in shape, I was busy in the kitchen because it's the last hold out in the list of rooms that needed to be remodeled. We had decided on a minimalist plan for this remodel. No knocking down or building walls or tearing out cabinets to be replaced with shiny new ones. Our plan was just to sand and paint the cabinets, replace the cabinet doors, replace the sink, faucet and counter top and tile the back splash. At least for a start. Here's the before pic:
But of course, nothing is EASY in this old house. Did I mention that there are no water shut off valves in the house and if you want to work on any plumbing you have to go lie on your belly in the front yard and turn off the water at the meter, which is in a hole in the ground? Did I mention it is now about 20 degrees with a windchill of -30? Did I mention that our mad skills do not include plumbing apparently, because this is now what our faucet looks like? The paper plates are redirecting the water dripping from the not-so-well-installed fixtures.
It's really no big deal to dash out in the nose-hair-freezing day to turn the water on so we can flush the toilets. Hopefully the plumber can come tomorrow and get us all set up. I'm just trying to remember why it sounded like a good idea to start this at the END of a week of vacation.
Oh, and Tessa is scheduled to have her wisdom teeth extracted today. And let me tell you, she is taking it well. She has written out her will and made her final requests and bequests and is prepared to meet her maker. Fortunately she will be asleep during the procedure, and even more fortunately, I'll be in the waiting room. But it was a good excuse for taking the day off of work. I need to prepare the ice cream and mashed potatoes, and prepare to nurse her back to life as she knew it.
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