The Ugly, Part I. : It got up to 87F today and was humid as hell. Heat and I do not go together very well.
The Ugly, Part II. : The car was being sort of weird tonight and there still isn't the money to fix it. What a pill.
The Bad: I'm experiencing what is known by other T-Tappers as the dreaded "Fat Shift".
The Good, Part I. : I'm experiencing what is known by other T-Tappers as the dreaded Fat Shift". Apparently, when you tapp, you build muscle and everything cinches in and up. This causes a weird fat-displacement thing and can make you think you're not having success because your pants might be tight in the waist or because you cannot shoehorn your bum into your jeans. It's like squeezing a squishy toy. You pinch its little bum and another part bulges. The idea of failure couldn't be further from the truth. The Fat Shift is a good thing. It means you're doing things right and it's working. So, instead of being downcast, I should be grateful, and I truly am, but impatience is getting me down. I want this slop off my frame so that I can cause C.G.'s jaw to hit the ground and his eyes to bug out of his head. Among other things.
The Good, Part II. : I found out, courtesy of the fabulous T-Tapp Forums, why I went batshit crazy last week and nobody could be near me without cladding themselves in garlic and Crucifixes. It seems that fat and estrogen go hand in hand, in a sort of horrible, Ike and Tina-esque marriage. Fat stores estrogen and higher estrogen levels cause you to put on more fat. One's a punch in the mouth, the other's a kick in the stones. When you exercise/eat better and burn fat, that estrogen is released into your system. You end up with more estrogen than progesterone - hormonal imbalance. It causes you to go batshit crazy. This is what happened to me last week and this explains why I was pure evil last April-May, when I was weight-training and walking, hardcore. Total hormonal imbalance. If this should happen to me again, I'll take it in stride rather than put the county mental hospital on speed dial.
So, things are not perfect, but there's hope. And that's what keeps me going. That and air conditioning.
Monday, May 30, 2011
Friday, May 27, 2011
B*tch on Wheels, Hell on (stiletto) Heels.
This post is going to be brief. Right now, the less I communicate, the better.
The T-Tapp is working. I believe I'm down nearly one size. I sleep better and I have tons of energy. In fact, the last time I had this much energy, I was 9 years old.
But it's also making my hormones straighten themselves out. When the hormones shift, I become impossible to live with. My neighbor ran out in front of me as I was returning home a couple of hours ago and I wanted to beat him senseless with a Le Creuset cast-iron skillet. The lady ahead of me at the grocery store wrote a check and the machine went haywire and couldn't process it. I nearly clubbed her with her 25-lb. bottle of kitty litter. When my mother asked me what was wrong, my inner Linda Blair told her I just wanted everyone to get the hell out of my way and shut the hell up. Trouble is, nobody had been talking to me in the first place. I think they all crawled under rocks to wait it out until I return to being normal.
So, I'm going to try a few T-Tapp moves and see if they'll take the edge off. Goodness knows that the 3(ok, 5) mini Butterfinger bars I had didn't do much good. If mild exercise doesn't help, then I'll have to go back to garlic and a crucifix...
P.S. It's not all bad. I have now gone 31 days without soda. And I didn't substitute it with Kahlua, either.
The T-Tapp is working. I believe I'm down nearly one size. I sleep better and I have tons of energy. In fact, the last time I had this much energy, I was 9 years old.
But it's also making my hormones straighten themselves out. When the hormones shift, I become impossible to live with. My neighbor ran out in front of me as I was returning home a couple of hours ago and I wanted to beat him senseless with a Le Creuset cast-iron skillet. The lady ahead of me at the grocery store wrote a check and the machine went haywire and couldn't process it. I nearly clubbed her with her 25-lb. bottle of kitty litter. When my mother asked me what was wrong, my inner Linda Blair told her I just wanted everyone to get the hell out of my way and shut the hell up. Trouble is, nobody had been talking to me in the first place. I think they all crawled under rocks to wait it out until I return to being normal.
So, I'm going to try a few T-Tapp moves and see if they'll take the edge off. Goodness knows that the 3(ok, 5) mini Butterfinger bars I had didn't do much good. If mild exercise doesn't help, then I'll have to go back to garlic and a crucifix...
P.S. It's not all bad. I have now gone 31 days without soda. And I didn't substitute it with Kahlua, either.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
R-E-S-P-E-C-T
After much procrastination and prevaricating, I have resumed T-Tapp. I'm doing a 4-day bootcamp and if today (Day 4) goes well, I might extend it to 5 or 6. This routine works so well, I swear my bra bulges and thighs have already shrunk. Now that's progress!
It's been said by Teresa Tapp, the creator of T-Tapp, that Day 3 of any bootcamp is a killer but Day 4 is when it starts getting better. For me, Day 1 was nearly my last. In the space of 2 minutes I alternated between wanting to weep, wanting to throw up and wanting to die. It was in the middle of the wanting to die portion that I finally understood why people, particularly women, are told to do things for themselves, and not for some damn man. Had I not been painfully out of breath already, the realization that a Certain Gentleman is not worth this misery but I am, would have taken my breath away. The freedom of this was staggering and I find myself a lot more enthusiastic about exercise.
Another thing I find incredible is how The Good Lord always seems to send you what you need when you sincerely ask for help. Example: For the past couple of weeks I've been praying for help with getting my emotional eating under control once and for all and I've gotten the help. I haven't been perfect but I've been quite good 85-90% of the time and for that I'm intensely grateful. This change in eating - the moderate portions, the eating before I'm crazed with hunger, actually slowing down and chewing has led me to some insights about Self-Respect vs. Self-Esteem.
When I decided to buckle down and improve matters, I began reading about self-esteem, which is something I've really struggled with for as long as I can remember. One online article I read was about how the American psychologist, Albert Ellis, believed that Self-Esteem is a myth, because it can fluctuate so much, and what's more important is Self-Acceptance. I read some more here and there and I can finally see how accepting and respecting one's self is so important. Self-Respect says that eating too much will make a girl feel like garbage both physically and mentally. What it's really been telling me is that if I eat to soothe my emotions, I'm essentially telling myself that I don't have the mental and emotional strength to calm myself without Twinkies and that I'm selling myself short/undermining my abilities. That's probably the biggest revelation I've had to-date. Talk about your early Christmas presents!
I darn well intend on persuing this whole Self-Respect thing as the days pass. This entire week I've been shown examples of what the lack of it can do to people. It's doubly tragic when it's paired with desperation. That is not going to be me.
It's been said by Teresa Tapp, the creator of T-Tapp, that Day 3 of any bootcamp is a killer but Day 4 is when it starts getting better. For me, Day 1 was nearly my last. In the space of 2 minutes I alternated between wanting to weep, wanting to throw up and wanting to die. It was in the middle of the wanting to die portion that I finally understood why people, particularly women, are told to do things for themselves, and not for some damn man. Had I not been painfully out of breath already, the realization that a Certain Gentleman is not worth this misery but I am, would have taken my breath away. The freedom of this was staggering and I find myself a lot more enthusiastic about exercise.
Another thing I find incredible is how The Good Lord always seems to send you what you need when you sincerely ask for help. Example: For the past couple of weeks I've been praying for help with getting my emotional eating under control once and for all and I've gotten the help. I haven't been perfect but I've been quite good 85-90% of the time and for that I'm intensely grateful. This change in eating - the moderate portions, the eating before I'm crazed with hunger, actually slowing down and chewing has led me to some insights about Self-Respect vs. Self-Esteem.
When I decided to buckle down and improve matters, I began reading about self-esteem, which is something I've really struggled with for as long as I can remember. One online article I read was about how the American psychologist, Albert Ellis, believed that Self-Esteem is a myth, because it can fluctuate so much, and what's more important is Self-Acceptance. I read some more here and there and I can finally see how accepting and respecting one's self is so important. Self-Respect says that eating too much will make a girl feel like garbage both physically and mentally. What it's really been telling me is that if I eat to soothe my emotions, I'm essentially telling myself that I don't have the mental and emotional strength to calm myself without Twinkies and that I'm selling myself short/undermining my abilities. That's probably the biggest revelation I've had to-date. Talk about your early Christmas presents!
I darn well intend on persuing this whole Self-Respect thing as the days pass. This entire week I've been shown examples of what the lack of it can do to people. It's doubly tragic when it's paired with desperation. That is not going to be me.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Query...
Does anybody know the title and composer to this piece of music? It sounds like J.S. Bach or one of his contemporaries but I can't be sure. All I know is that it's driving me batty. Any help would be much appreciated. Thanks!
Attn. Wal Mart Shoppers Pt. 2
Ok, I still can't seem to fix whatever is wrong with this blog, that won't allow me to post in response to others. I guess this is still an issue for others at blogspot, too.
Just Me: How are you feeling? Ears better, I hope? As for my friend, X, things have been going downhill for quite some time. Lots of little things that are adding up. I'm probably not helping because I'm not saying anything, I'm just staying mad. Trouble is, it's easier to stay silent, as even a whiff of what might be criticism is met with anger or floods of tears. It's never the right time to say anything, either. It's a new drama each day. So, I say nothing and I give her a wide berth.
Yeah, I was angry and frustrated when I posted earlier. Thanks for your prayers. I hope all's well with you, health-wise and in uni.
*************************************************************************************
I tried to post but couldn't. I can post on most other blogspot accounts with a few exceptions.
I'm glad you're feeling better and I hope you get your energy back before you know it. I bet that soon after your exams you'll feel fantastic again. It's scary how much a tough term can take out of you. I'll pray that your exams go well and you'll do splendidly.
The trouble with this thing with X is that she's been feuding with a number of people in the last couple of years. She'd always been very close with a number of her cousins and one of her aunts in particular. She's upset with them because they've told her she's gotten self-absorbed. She's also feuding with our other friend, Y, who she's known since the age of 5. At least it's not me she's picking on exclusively, but it's kind of scary to see someone at loggerheads with a dozen people. If a discussion happens, I hope I'll be able to keep it together and stay calm.
Just Me: How are you feeling? Ears better, I hope? As for my friend, X, things have been going downhill for quite some time. Lots of little things that are adding up. I'm probably not helping because I'm not saying anything, I'm just staying mad. Trouble is, it's easier to stay silent, as even a whiff of what might be criticism is met with anger or floods of tears. It's never the right time to say anything, either. It's a new drama each day. So, I say nothing and I give her a wide berth.
Yeah, I was angry and frustrated when I posted earlier. Thanks for your prayers. I hope all's well with you, health-wise and in uni.
*************************************************************************************
I tried to post but couldn't. I can post on most other blogspot accounts with a few exceptions.
I'm glad you're feeling better and I hope you get your energy back before you know it. I bet that soon after your exams you'll feel fantastic again. It's scary how much a tough term can take out of you. I'll pray that your exams go well and you'll do splendidly.
The trouble with this thing with X is that she's been feuding with a number of people in the last couple of years. She'd always been very close with a number of her cousins and one of her aunts in particular. She's upset with them because they've told her she's gotten self-absorbed. She's also feuding with our other friend, Y, who she's known since the age of 5. At least it's not me she's picking on exclusively, but it's kind of scary to see someone at loggerheads with a dozen people. If a discussion happens, I hope I'll be able to keep it together and stay calm.
Attention Wal Mart Shoppers!
It's been a rotten week thus far and it's only Wednesday! It seems as if everyone is at odds with each other. Yesterday I had words with a longtime friend who, I suspect, is not going to be a friend for long. This person and I have been through many of the same situations and her crazy relatives are the twins of the crazies in my family. Yesterday was vile from start to finish. Family drama. Money drama. Car insurance drama. I attempted to vent to this person only to receive a snotty lecture in a nasty tone of voice - apparently it was all my fault and she didn't have the time or stomach for me. Not more than 3 hours later, she wanted to weep on my shoulder. It was on the tip of my tongue to urge her to write a letter to her Congressman but I managed to restrain myself. Needless to say, frustration and fury ruled my brain. The minutiae of her life is infinitely more fascinating than anything that befalls me. I'm sorry but that's not a healthy give-and-take that's supposed to occur in friendships. There's more bullsh*t that's been going on betwixt us but in the interest of brevity and not vomiting, I'm not going to go into it at present.
A couple of hours later, I was obliged to do some grocery shopping and as I plodded woodenly though the food aisles at Wal Mart it occurred to me that I can no longer blame my sh*tty life on the b*stards in my past, nor can I use their nastiness as an excuse to not live a good life. I did not receive this insight with rejoicing. The concepts of stopping-the-blame and no-more-excuses are easy for me to grasp but there's a huge difference between grasping and putting into practice. I feel like I deserve something for pain and suffering even though I know that life and the universe do not work that way. I know that I'll be singing Zippety-Do-Dah out my backside before I get some version of danger pay or apologies or severance. Life and the universe don't work that way, either.
I'm completely non-plussed. I'm not sure what people want from me and I'm not sure what to do. The feedback I'm getting is that what I want/think/feel isn't important and that who I am is unacceptable. And it's not just from this person but from a number of people in my life. I get the feeling that what they want is a silent, blindly obedient punching bag. I'm wondering if they're right. Am I to live in silence and solitude or just tell them all to f-off, steal a vacant cop car, drive to Vegas with a Jim Beam bottle stuck in my mouth and spend the next 8 months dancing on tabletops, fornicating, gambling, getting into fist fights - generally having good, clean fun? I don't know if I'm the a**hole or if I'm surrounded by misguided a**holes. This is partly what's holding me back. In the back of my mind is this feeling that unless I'm perfectly wonderful, 24/7, I don't deserve good things. The front of my mind knows this is ridiculous but both back and front know that I am highly imperfect, a sinner at times. It trips me up every damn time.
Maybe I should find my way to Vegas anyway. It might not solve anything but at least a drunken wedding to an Elvis-impersonator would be an interesting distraction. With any luck "Elvis" would have a regular job as a therapist.
A couple of hours later, I was obliged to do some grocery shopping and as I plodded woodenly though the food aisles at Wal Mart it occurred to me that I can no longer blame my sh*tty life on the b*stards in my past, nor can I use their nastiness as an excuse to not live a good life. I did not receive this insight with rejoicing. The concepts of stopping-the-blame and no-more-excuses are easy for me to grasp but there's a huge difference between grasping and putting into practice. I feel like I deserve something for pain and suffering even though I know that life and the universe do not work that way. I know that I'll be singing Zippety-Do-Dah out my backside before I get some version of danger pay or apologies or severance. Life and the universe don't work that way, either.
I'm completely non-plussed. I'm not sure what people want from me and I'm not sure what to do. The feedback I'm getting is that what I want/think/feel isn't important and that who I am is unacceptable. And it's not just from this person but from a number of people in my life. I get the feeling that what they want is a silent, blindly obedient punching bag. I'm wondering if they're right. Am I to live in silence and solitude or just tell them all to f-off, steal a vacant cop car, drive to Vegas with a Jim Beam bottle stuck in my mouth and spend the next 8 months dancing on tabletops, fornicating, gambling, getting into fist fights - generally having good, clean fun? I don't know if I'm the a**hole or if I'm surrounded by misguided a**holes. This is partly what's holding me back. In the back of my mind is this feeling that unless I'm perfectly wonderful, 24/7, I don't deserve good things. The front of my mind knows this is ridiculous but both back and front know that I am highly imperfect, a sinner at times. It trips me up every damn time.
Maybe I should find my way to Vegas anyway. It might not solve anything but at least a drunken wedding to an Elvis-impersonator would be an interesting distraction. With any luck "Elvis" would have a regular job as a therapist.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Meet the 8th Dwarf - B*tchy.
I'm in a vile mood. Did anything bad happen today? On the contrary. I had a good night's sleep, woke to a glorious sunrise, snarfed down a nice breakfast. What's got me in a filthy humor is exercise. I was going to stop fooling around and resume T-Tapp last Saturday morning, but some unexpected house guests arrived. Then, for a few days after they left, I just couldn't be bothered. But I knew I had to get started. Last Tuesday's pants trauma was still fresh in my mind. This morning, I finally made time to exercise. It was miserable. I hated every single minute of it. I resented every drop of sweat and every beat of my heart. I had just enough wind in me to heap invective on the poor lady on the dvd. I was cheesed off when I started the video and simply foul when it was over. And I'm still mad. I am not the kind of person who enjoys exercise. My idea of a good time is to NOT do lunges but to eat french fries while watching others jog. The kind of physical activity I like is the kind that doesn't feel like formal exercise. When I go to my friend's farm I love to help milk goats and pitch hay, stack wood and weed the garden. I like to hike through the woods. I also like to dance (though I'm terrible at it) and play tennis (I could use more instruction). Though I have to bribe myself to get going, I can tolerate weight training and I find walking agreeable. Suffice it to say, I went into T-Tapp with a lousy mindset. Because I'm a beginner, I had to do the Instructional portion of the workout. It's recommended that beginners do this a minimum of 7 times before moving on to the regular workout, to accustom themselves to the movements. I've done the Instructional about 4 times before today so I am hoping to move to the regular workout after a few more times at this stage. Let me tell you, Instructional is tough. It moves slowly so Teresa can explain what's going on. Trying to hold position (feet hip-width apart, knees bent and twisted out over the little toes, butt tucked, shoulders back and lats locked) while she speaks at length is like being in the 5th ring of Hell. It's a good thing that results are quick because I'd throw in the towel otherwise. I was drenched with sweat 15 minutes into the video and by the time I was done, my entire body was shaking. Apparently this is a good sign. It means that all your muscles got a jolly-good workout. For all intents and purposes, I wanted to die. I know that the first couple of sessions are very hard and that by Day 4 it's much, much easier, but I was discouraged. I have quite a bit of slop to shift. The idea of suffering this much in order to lose a few pounds was devastating. I began to castigate myself for gaining weight in the first place. Then, I realized that I painted myself into a corner. If I want a better body and less trauma in the fitting room, I have to do what I don't want to do. And if I want the kind of life I have been envisioning for the past few weeks, I will have to do other things that are unappealing. Not much of a choice, really. Either be miserable now and contented later or sit on my duff and continue to be miserable, possibly digging the hole deeper as time goes by. Oh goody!
I suppose the way to go about this is to stop dwelling on the negative. I have a terrible tendency to dwell on things. The other morning, a wonderful preacher by the name of Joyce Meyer, said that a person can really mess themselves up - to the point of becoming deeply depressed - by dwelling on negative things. After tapping, I checked my Facebook and read the following by T-Tapper Charlotte Siems: "Toxic thoughts may pop into your head but you don't have to water and fertilize them". For the past week that seems to have been the theme: Don't dwell on crap. Could my dwelling have contributed to years of emotional eating that led to gaining weight? It's possible. Heaven knows that dwelling and unforgiveness go hand in hand, and I have a hard time forgiving.
It all comes down to making a choice doesn't it? And having courage. Being brave enough to choose to endure "misery" now in order to be more satisfied at this time next year, just like forgiveness is a choice. So, I continue my day and attempt to stop dwelling on my bad mood. Who knew this getting a life thing would be two steps forward, one step back?
I suppose the way to go about this is to stop dwelling on the negative. I have a terrible tendency to dwell on things. The other morning, a wonderful preacher by the name of Joyce Meyer, said that a person can really mess themselves up - to the point of becoming deeply depressed - by dwelling on negative things. After tapping, I checked my Facebook and read the following by T-Tapper Charlotte Siems: "Toxic thoughts may pop into your head but you don't have to water and fertilize them". For the past week that seems to have been the theme: Don't dwell on crap. Could my dwelling have contributed to years of emotional eating that led to gaining weight? It's possible. Heaven knows that dwelling and unforgiveness go hand in hand, and I have a hard time forgiving.
It all comes down to making a choice doesn't it? And having courage. Being brave enough to choose to endure "misery" now in order to be more satisfied at this time next year, just like forgiveness is a choice. So, I continue my day and attempt to stop dwelling on my bad mood. Who knew this getting a life thing would be two steps forward, one step back?
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Show and Tell
What floats your boat? Anything you can't live without? What are you grateful for? In the spirit of brevity, the following is a partial list of what tickles the hell out of me.
Can't Live Without:
St. Therese of Lisieux. She's gotten me out of many a tight crack many times. She's better than Prozac any day. I chat with her constantly, and not just to ask for help. She never lets me down. How many people can you say that about?
Black Lab and Stray Palace - or anything Paul Durham-related - deserve to be much bigger than they are. These bands are, by far, the greatest bands since the early 90s. I highly, highly recommend becoming a fan. (You can find some of their stuff on YouTube, blacklabworld.com and straypalace.com. Free mp3s are often available). Nothing gets my blood racing or makes me feel gorgeous or punches me in the gut harder than this music.
Ice Hockey. I don't care if it's being played by uncoordinated 5-year olds or the Boston Bruins, it's all golden. When life is shit, this makes it better. When life is good it's the hot fudge on top of the sundae. Nothing frustrates or elates me more than Hockey.
Books. Pretty self-explanatory.
My Diary. I'd have gone 'round the bend years ago if I didn't have a diary. I've saved them all. They're seething with anger, frustration, mirth, joy, boredom, stupid little details, selfishness, horrible immaturity, terror, hilarity, wondering, and utter bullcrap, but I wouldn't part with them. I hope I become a fabulous writer one day so that after I'm dead, my diaries will go to the Smithsonian or be studied in universities, if only as a cautionary tale.
My driver's license. I don't know what I'd do without it. Going cruising is good therapy when I'm down, it calms me when I'm furious and is a means of private celebration. Gimme four wheels and a seat and a decent radio and I'm happy.
Mascara and lipstick: The bare minimum that makes me look alive and somewhat pulled together.
Guerlain's Vol de Nuit: The sexiest, most mysterious perfume I've ever inhaled. Some of the notes remind me of that dusty smell when it first starts raining. Love, love, love it and wish it wasn't $300/oz. and hard to find.
Music, period. My dad's a musician. My mom was a trained singer at one time. I can't remember when there wasn't music in our home. I'd die without it.
Floats My Boat:
1. The smell of a Hockey rink. It's a combination of rubber from pucks and equipment and sweaty men. On game nights it's rubber, beer, hot chocolate, popcorn and sweaty men. Sexy yet comforting at the same time. It's my Chanel No. 5.
2. The sound of stuff being sucked up a vacuum.
3. Running errands. Any day when I have to run to the pharmacy, library, post office, Target, Hallmark store, dry cleaner, grocery store and then grab lunch, is a good day.
4. Waking up in a crummy mood, certain that it'll be a crummy day, not wanting to do anything, and then something pops up that's spontaneous and fun and makes everything sparkle.
5. In mid-to-late August, when Orion can finally be seen just before sunrise. I know that the summer heat will be ending soon, that Fall is imminent and that Hockey will be resuming before long.
6. Nipping into a bookstore or card shop on the spur of the moment to browse.
7. Shopping for someone's birthday. I love thinking about what would make a cool gift and then picking out the perfect card.
8. The smell of a new book. Or any book.
9. The smell of lilacs and apple blossoms on a rainy night.
10. The smell of garlic and onions on a hot Summer night.
11. Thunderstorms. The bigger, the better. They're fun to drive in, especially late at night.
12. The sound of church bells. Double plus bonus if I hear them on a chilly, rainy morning.
13. Rain. You'll almost never hear me whine and moan about it being a rainy day.
14. Sitting in a coffee joint writing letters. Double plus bonus if this happens on a rainy day.
15. Shoe shopping. Shoes, period. My goal is to own a pair of Louboutins, Manolo Blahniks, Jimmy Choos and Brian Atwoods someday.
16. Going out to my friend Chris' farm. Sitting out on the deck with him and my brother after everyone else has gone to bed. It's so dark you can see every single star in the sky. Last time I was up there we could see the Milky Way. It looked like the Las Vegas strip of the Universe.
17. Trying new things. I don't care what they are: a new food, a new movie, new store/restaurant, new activity. If I haven't done it before, it's cool.
18. Any kind of adventure. In my mind there's no such thing as a small adventure. They're all huge and they're all awesome.
19. Catching a guy checking me out. Always puts a dumb grin on my face.
20. Actual letters. In the mail. Written on real paper or in a card, with a stamp on the envelope. Sent and received. E-mail, Facebook, Twitter and texting are lovely but I mourn the loss of real letters. Technology may be expedient but real letters have a style, class and elegance that technology sadly lacks.
What I'm Grateful For:
All of the above and so much more. We all owe God a huge thank-you, both verbal and in frosting on top of his favorite kind of cake. I'm especially grateful that I'm a girl and as such, I have cute shoes. It's got to suck to be a guy. From birth til death, all their shoes are ugly. Our clothes are cuter and more varied, too. I think it's God's way of softening the blow of childbirth and monthly inconveniences.
So, I'm curious. What thrills all of you?
Can't Live Without:
St. Therese of Lisieux. She's gotten me out of many a tight crack many times. She's better than Prozac any day. I chat with her constantly, and not just to ask for help. She never lets me down. How many people can you say that about?
Black Lab and Stray Palace - or anything Paul Durham-related - deserve to be much bigger than they are. These bands are, by far, the greatest bands since the early 90s. I highly, highly recommend becoming a fan. (You can find some of their stuff on YouTube, blacklabworld.com and straypalace.com. Free mp3s are often available). Nothing gets my blood racing or makes me feel gorgeous or punches me in the gut harder than this music.
Ice Hockey. I don't care if it's being played by uncoordinated 5-year olds or the Boston Bruins, it's all golden. When life is shit, this makes it better. When life is good it's the hot fudge on top of the sundae. Nothing frustrates or elates me more than Hockey.
Books. Pretty self-explanatory.
My Diary. I'd have gone 'round the bend years ago if I didn't have a diary. I've saved them all. They're seething with anger, frustration, mirth, joy, boredom, stupid little details, selfishness, horrible immaturity, terror, hilarity, wondering, and utter bullcrap, but I wouldn't part with them. I hope I become a fabulous writer one day so that after I'm dead, my diaries will go to the Smithsonian or be studied in universities, if only as a cautionary tale.
My driver's license. I don't know what I'd do without it. Going cruising is good therapy when I'm down, it calms me when I'm furious and is a means of private celebration. Gimme four wheels and a seat and a decent radio and I'm happy.
Mascara and lipstick: The bare minimum that makes me look alive and somewhat pulled together.
Guerlain's Vol de Nuit: The sexiest, most mysterious perfume I've ever inhaled. Some of the notes remind me of that dusty smell when it first starts raining. Love, love, love it and wish it wasn't $300/oz. and hard to find.
Music, period. My dad's a musician. My mom was a trained singer at one time. I can't remember when there wasn't music in our home. I'd die without it.
Floats My Boat:
1. The smell of a Hockey rink. It's a combination of rubber from pucks and equipment and sweaty men. On game nights it's rubber, beer, hot chocolate, popcorn and sweaty men. Sexy yet comforting at the same time. It's my Chanel No. 5.
2. The sound of stuff being sucked up a vacuum.
3. Running errands. Any day when I have to run to the pharmacy, library, post office, Target, Hallmark store, dry cleaner, grocery store and then grab lunch, is a good day.
4. Waking up in a crummy mood, certain that it'll be a crummy day, not wanting to do anything, and then something pops up that's spontaneous and fun and makes everything sparkle.
5. In mid-to-late August, when Orion can finally be seen just before sunrise. I know that the summer heat will be ending soon, that Fall is imminent and that Hockey will be resuming before long.
6. Nipping into a bookstore or card shop on the spur of the moment to browse.
7. Shopping for someone's birthday. I love thinking about what would make a cool gift and then picking out the perfect card.
8. The smell of a new book. Or any book.
9. The smell of lilacs and apple blossoms on a rainy night.
10. The smell of garlic and onions on a hot Summer night.
11. Thunderstorms. The bigger, the better. They're fun to drive in, especially late at night.
12. The sound of church bells. Double plus bonus if I hear them on a chilly, rainy morning.
13. Rain. You'll almost never hear me whine and moan about it being a rainy day.
14. Sitting in a coffee joint writing letters. Double plus bonus if this happens on a rainy day.
15. Shoe shopping. Shoes, period. My goal is to own a pair of Louboutins, Manolo Blahniks, Jimmy Choos and Brian Atwoods someday.
16. Going out to my friend Chris' farm. Sitting out on the deck with him and my brother after everyone else has gone to bed. It's so dark you can see every single star in the sky. Last time I was up there we could see the Milky Way. It looked like the Las Vegas strip of the Universe.
17. Trying new things. I don't care what they are: a new food, a new movie, new store/restaurant, new activity. If I haven't done it before, it's cool.
18. Any kind of adventure. In my mind there's no such thing as a small adventure. They're all huge and they're all awesome.
19. Catching a guy checking me out. Always puts a dumb grin on my face.
20. Actual letters. In the mail. Written on real paper or in a card, with a stamp on the envelope. Sent and received. E-mail, Facebook, Twitter and texting are lovely but I mourn the loss of real letters. Technology may be expedient but real letters have a style, class and elegance that technology sadly lacks.
What I'm Grateful For:
All of the above and so much more. We all owe God a huge thank-you, both verbal and in frosting on top of his favorite kind of cake. I'm especially grateful that I'm a girl and as such, I have cute shoes. It's got to suck to be a guy. From birth til death, all their shoes are ugly. Our clothes are cuter and more varied, too. I think it's God's way of softening the blow of childbirth and monthly inconveniences.
So, I'm curious. What thrills all of you?
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Funny how life gets in the way.
So much for planning. I was all set to resume t-tapp yesterday when unexpected guests, namely my brother and his kids, dropped by for the weekend. So, my plans for supermodel-dom have been put on hold temporarily. More updates as they come...
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