Does it bother anyone that I haven’t shaved my legs in over a week? Just checking. I mean at this point, they’re kinda soft.
Archive for August 2005
My darlings I’ve teased you and teased you and you’ve tolerated it like any good boy would. Concentrating hard to hear your mothers voice and thinking about baseball probably helped, but you’ll be happy to know it’s finally go time. Dej shot me an email yesterday morning with the *official* word, so I can finally spill it: she’ll be in People Magazine on September 19th. (This isn’t actually all the news, but hey, I’m a tease.)
We’ll be arranging for a public celebration somewhere in the ‘hood should you want to show up, stand in line for her autograph, have your picture taken with the star…aw who am I kidding. That’s not how she rolls. Come have a glass of wine, some laughs and celebrate good fortunate and life long dreams come true. Hell, it could be even better than the CD release party, who knows? I’ll let you know soon enough where to find us on the big night (mark your schedule – September 19th), she’s splitting for Cannes for two weeks so we’ve got some logistical crunching to do.
A fantasy like this couldn’t have been realized for a nicer woman with a kinder spirit and a more loving nature. Dej has been through heaps and mounds of drama and issues with me over the last few years and regardless of the level of our friendship as it evolved, she’s always genuinely cared about my happiness and my heartaches. She’s wiped my tears and shared my laughter, provided raw and real advice, smacked me upside the head a few times and enjoyed many a bottle of wine over Scrabble (which she cheats at).
No stranger to drama of her own, she’s worked for years to create her own destiny and in doing so serves as an inspiration to not only me, but countless others on days we want to give up the ghost. At 50 (hard to believe, I know), she’s released her first CD and is truly embarking on her well deserved path to a diva-dom she helped define.
The back cover of her CD tells the story:
Uncle Warren was a professional pianist. He started his career playing with big bands and was featured on West Virginia radio. During the WWII, he played on ships and was Jane Froman’s musical director.
He was wearing a white dinner jacket and playing at The Money Tree in Hollywood when he died.
I was in the 6th grade. Being the only member of the family who played piano, I inherited a suitcase full of music…
This CD is for him.
We now also know that Uncle Warren was Dinah Shore’s musical director and headlined the opening of The Aladdin with Buddy Hackett, more exciting details continue to be revealed daily.
You go, Dej! I love you and I couldn’t be more proud – “even if this was it. Even if it ended right now with the light sprinkling through the window like that…”
The rest of you? Dream big and make it happen.
There’s nothing like a fierce storm to inspire me. Katrina (that bitch) or the inner battle, you decide. At 5:20 last night I giggled to myself and the local news station as they warned of tornados and showed me a bunch of red blobs over nearby cities. Yes, this is exactly what I needed. I threw my shoes on and gave way to my anxious, willing legs, letting them usher me out the door for a solid, spirited run. This was going to be a good one.
The streets were silent with the exception of the rain and the cars blasting through it, I knew full well that in the safety of the houses lining the quaint neighborhood streets I was passing were people hunkering down in their tubs and basements. I rolled through their world and danced on the cusp of their nests in now ruined running shoes and thanked them silently as they peered from their windows for leaving me to it. Bits of the 1:20 trek had me lumbering rather than running (the extra weight of my soaked footwear) but hell yeah, it was all mine; every bit of it. Nobody was there with me in spirit, in mind or in person because nobody deserved to share it with me. Well, almost nobody.
Giant drops pelted me at a rate that wasn’t even worthy of lifting a hand to wipe my face, just squint and crinkle your nose and hope you push off a small deluge with the contortion, open your eyes, blink, try again.
Fair weather? Not me. I could have wussed out when it started really dumping 10 minutes in, I even asked the folks hiding in the gas station if they thought I should. They all said “yes” so I smiled, asked for a plastic bag, bundled up the iPod and kept on.
They obviously didn’t know me.
An hour plus of dancing between the drops wasn’t enough, so having changed into a dry set of clothes I invited Kim and Max over and we went for another hour. This time walking at a good clip, trying not to mind my now screaming knee, and simply soaking up the stillness and vacant streets.
Damn it, I love the rain.
Much later, the radar looked like this.
I recognize that the destruction and ravaging that took place during the night and continues today is not something to take lightly and I sincerely hope you, your family, your friends, the guy you met in the grocery store once, your sisters cousins plumber and the like are all safe. Even our wee Helen was hit over night by one of those tornados, while a levy broke in The Big Easy and my Doppler remains littered with red blobs. It’s ugly out there (but I still love it).
Donate now to offer some relief if you can: The Red Cross.
Most days, I’m content.
I have my cozy apartment in the city full of books and tchotchkes and memories and flair and plants (and plants and plants), I have a good job where I’m surrounded by kind, talented people which pays for the toys I can’t live without. I have an abundance of friends to shower my affection on, who ensure I have no shortage of laughter in my life or events on my schedule. I have my running and hiking and walking and driving (and sometimes cycling) to clear my mind and reset my compass and above it all – I have my health.
I’m strong, I’m independent, I’m to the point. I have a firm enough grip on reality to make plenty of folks uncomfortable and I can’t think of a subject I’ll dance around. I don’t like to wait and chances are: I won’t. Time is precious, I rarely demonstrate patience.
It’s ironic how many of the individuals who actually know me find themselves uncomfortable looking at this site and reading about who I am beneath the banter and wit. Who would be content to never realize the *other* me exists. Tough shit, kids, because I do and I’m ruthlessly flawed.
I’m a romantic, and tucked deep in my little world, next to all the familiar emotional surges you knew in your youth at the hint of love along side your first crush pitter-patter is this:
I read that post (or something similar) when I need to believe in a beautiful truth that can conquer the monsters under my bed just by being. I read it when I need to believe in someone who knows your soft spots and doesn’t exploit them, someone who is worthy of your trust and doesn’t have to convince you of it because you know in your heart they’re inherently good. For however brief a time, I allow myself to feel the waves of optimism and give a teary smirk as I think about what my list looks like and I revel in the childish openheartedness that allows me to believe the criteria scribbled in ink on a yellow tablet could be met. Bah, who cares.
In the end, I go back to focusing on myself because he just doesn’t exist.
Has anyone seen that cat?
My head hurts a little. Pictures = good + easy. More photos with stories later. Maybe. Probably not. Those who were in attendance should tell you about it in the comments section, I think I’ve done enough already.
Dej and I started early with a good Irish dinner and some quality time. The calm before the storm. She has some very exciting news, but since I’m just a big old tease I’m not going to tell you. Soon darlings, very soon. Be patient.
You thought I was kidding about the tiara? Beyotch please. Early on in the evening, Kim had me pose for what felt like my senior class picture.
…and brought me a game…
…and wore TSS (the stripper shoes)
Zoe was part of the bigger picture: our waitress and my advisor. Charming, witty & stunning, this girl had it all.
Sjohnna brought me these little fellas…
…and a big ol’ hug.
The “band” shouldn’t have encouraged me to get on “stage”, but I think he really just wanted to touch my monkey. The monkey? Either way.
I’m pretty sure the stage incident went down after Dormel, Ceshia and Angie left…
…but not before Chris, Amiee, Bonnie, Amy and Laura Beth left.
Kimbo won’t be thrilled that I posted a picture of her, but it’s the only one I got of Yolanda. We looooooooooove crowds, don’t we Yolanda?
It was definitely before the third wave a.k.a. the smoking section of Jamie, Lenny & Steve showed up.
I’m not sure who that hand belongs to or what story they’re trying to tell, but Joanne doesn’t look as amused as John does and Ben…well I’m the queen of catching people mid-blink.
It was time to go when I started making the boys wear the headgear and Matt started showing his chest. Really I have no idea what he’s doing here or why.
As always (and thankfully) Bodyguard Steve-O was there to monitor my behavior and make sure I made it home in one piece.
Not pictured here? Sorry, I couldn’t fit everyone on and chances are I didn’t manage to get a shot of you on my camera. Doesn’t mean I don’t love ya!
Kissy boo, I’m goin’ back to bed.
…gets yelled at by his neighbors for making so much noise.
Am I right here, folks?
On the road early enough to watch the sun creep up the horizon in colors that make you wish your life had freeze frame, I was in Decatur this morning for the 5k for Hope benefiting Our House, a daycare shelter for families in need with some of my coworkers.
Home now it’s time to clean the apartment and sing into the end of a feather duster while showing off my best non-Elaine moves to no one. My party-all-night neighbors downstairs are about to fall in love with me all over again. It looks like a bomb went off in here and I just realized the last time I mopped (vs. swept) my floors was before I went to Alaska in June. Ick!
See you tonight…
The other night when the girls came over I told them I’d leave the super top secret back door open (the front involves two doors & two different locks), then I came home to find this. The joke is on…them?
My wonderful landlord Joe is making several improvements around the place, most recently replacing my stoop with an actual porch just in time for fall temperatures, a baby chimnea and nights outside sipping limeade, sweet tea or mint juleps with the cicadas.
In the meantime, I’ll mind my step and carry two keys instead of one when I head out to perform my knee punishing stupid human tricks.
Darling, this morning I’m just not feeling the love. Something is wrong, something is missing.
Several of my friends have expressed they’re not sleeping well lately, citing “I don’t know why” or Mercury Rising or day to day drama as the possible culprit for the disturbance. They’re having dreams that are more vivid and random than usual, waking up in that fog that doesn’t allow for the separation of reality from the faux real subconscious make believe nonsense of our resting hours.
I’m one of the masses today.
Tired, not enough sleep, icky dreams.
Last night in my resting hours I maced someone again, gluing their eyes shut but then standing and having a conversation with them about it. My best friend from grade school appeared and suddenly I was in a (my?) brownstone and she was dropping off baby stuff for me to keep in my spare bedroom. She was in giant pink gingham and acted as though we were still friends, as if we’d never grown apart. I went to a diner with my aunties and uncles but wound up instead at a table with workmates obsessed with a glass of Ginger Ale and a flexi straw. I borrowed a doctors white coat for no apparent reason (probably this guy, long story, ask later) and when he asked for it back I realized it was incredibly heavy. I don’t remember much else but there’s a funk I can’t shake and the lingering thoughts of the things I typically relate the sensation to. Not good.
Ever have this?
Maybe a dream your boyfriend/girlfriend cheats and you wake up furious? Knowing full well it never happened but unable to shake the aggression and apprehension just the same? Or a dream of loss of a dear loved one and you wake up with your world rocked and have to pick up the phone and remind them how loved they are.
I want to climb back in and try for new dreams, friendlier ones to dance across the surface, but I’m already running late. T-minus 12 hours and counting until I can fall between my sheets, latch on to Troy, set the timer on the TV and try again.