This Blonde's Moments
Why are you always picking on me? I don't procrastinate. I just like to do things later. ~ George, "Bored to Death" (HBO)So I wake up at about 6.30 every morning, make an iced coffee, quickly ponder ways to change the world, and proceed to jump into "one helluva lot more busy than I'd like to be" until the kids go to bed (around 8.30pm), at which point I successfully and way too easily zone out in some meager fashion. Fourteen hours a day/seven days a week of being "on," with two additional hours each day of escape mode... my thoughts that need tending tend to go untended. There are so many things going on in my mind, inane as all get-out for the most part, with no closure. Sooo much to do and say and
- I've been thinking a lot about the concept of "being content versus being happy." I overheard Roseanne Barr, of all people, discussing this on "Oprah." [Sidenote: I'm not an Oprah-watcher. It was a Tuesday or a Thursday - hence, kids home - and they were post-bath-hanging-out-on-my-bed-switching-channels-and-randomly-obsessed-with-Roseanne's-oddly-braided-hair. Not sure why I felt the need for that disclosure, when I'm entirely happy to disclose my love for "Real Housewives" and "The Bachelor."] All of this said, I'm intrigued with the idea of choosing to be content because it's not something you have to come down from. Contentment can stay forever, but happiness doesn't last. Hmmnn... Interesting... Meh, something I'm content to think about... happy to think otherwise, by the way.
- I witnessed a pedestrian the other day with the waist of his man-pri's falling just below what would appear to be the lower extreme of his anus. Now, I do not portend to be a fashionista, nor do I pretend to exude the utmost of class (Exhibit A: six pairs of ripped jeans; Exhibit B: Chuck Taylors; Exhibit C: bonafide tubetop). This said, when walking like a crab-meets-penguin becomes necessary for a gentleman to navigate sidestreets in order to keep his belt above his knees, I have questions as to the validity of the ass=waist coolness factor.
- I've always yearned for an accent of some sort. Upon moving to St. Louis, MO, back in '98, I remember very clearly how I was dismissed by one of the first locals I met: "You talk like a newscaster." She reported this with a beautiful Southern accent. *sigh* Nerd alert: I've secretly added an accent to one, singular word in my own personal vernacular: "Anotha'." That's right. I've replaced another with its Irish, or Bostonian, counterpart, and have been employing its usage regularly for about a decade now. Resounding result: Crickets. (Secretly fun, though. Not quitting anytime soon.)
- Easter decorating: Yay or Nay? I'm not a fan of decorating for any holiday other than Christmas or... well that's kind of it. I refuse to decorate for Halloween, Thanksgiving, Valentine's Day, Easter, 4th of July, etc., etc. And I'm not a party-pooper, I promise. Unless we've got a shindig going on - in which case I'll decorate the shit out of our lanai - the only thing a bat, cornucopia, heart wreath, purple egg basket, and red, white, and blue tablecloth are going to do for me is create another vestige for time spent and dog fur. But am I taking away from the kid's aesthetic holiday wonder? *lots of sighs*
- When I walked through the school door to pick up the kids yesterday, Lila greeted me with a mouse. The cutest lil' brown-and-white mouse named Butterscotch, and Lila was excitedly holding her sweetly, gently, and with the utmost of care. Lila's three. It floored me. In Jen World, I had thought three-year-olds, if offered a tiny, extremely breakable animal, would immediately squeeze out the life and throw it rather vengefully against a wall, turning blythely away in search of something benign and motionless, like crayons. But Lila appeared to me that moment as an invincible, 3-foot-tall, sparkly manicured, half-Italian version of Steve Irwin. She coddled a mouse and flicked the poos off of her forearm as though they were simply brown, silly annoyances. (She was right.) I experience so very many of these moments where the kids floor me these days, but I don't want to go overboard mushy, so... next bullet...
- Lila found a pillow today in the back of her closet. It's one I'd made a pillowcase for back in '04 - fashioned out of old Levi's and a Polo shirt. When I met Ang, he thought the idea of reinventing one's once-worns into pillowcases was genius, and we even came up with the name for the new biz: Seams Like Jen. Sew... That idea went nowhere.
- Talking about that: There's a catalog marie-chantal with some very expensive clothes for little girls. Their maxi-dresses run about $150. (Not quite sure of the actual price, nor can I check because I immediately threw the catalog into the trash upon seeing the asinine prices.) Really? $150 for a size 2 maxi dress? Consisting of two mini-pieces of fabric? For a little girl who will move into a size 3 upon simply eating eleven more meals? So, my new mission: My mom made my sis and me maxi-dresses back in the '70s and I plan on asking her for the pattern and making some of my own. And I don't sew, but seams appear to like Jen, so...
- Will someone PLEASE create a healthy food drive-through? Geez, already.
- Facebook is beautiful. Because of it, I met up with a high school friend today I haven't seen in over twenty years. There's nothing like not knowing someone for the past couple of decades, but it not mattering because navigating your all-important junior and high school years together means everything. It means that, ultimately, you do know her... And it's wonderful to meet up later, as if no time had passed...
- It's 11.30pm, I haven't proofread this, I have a showing tomorrow at 9am, and I'm off to whoop it up with some iPhone Angry Birds in bed.
- I'm finding out, little by little, that the readers of my blog are ultra-smart, very cool, talented women. I could not be happier. Thank you.