Friday, August 30, 2002

And by popular demand, here's my old man with the new shmoopy:

UPDATE: I gave each of them a thorough bath less than 30 minutes before this picture was taken, and they were already filthy when I took the shot.
Such is the life of a doggy mommy.
I'm house-sitting for my Mom.

She made Rice Krispy Treats.

Steyn speaks, Yousefzadeh links, and Suli says "amen."

I've been cringing at the thought of what's bound to come down around our ears a week from Wednesday, and I don't mean landmarks, but rather the inevitable commemorative schmaltz. I'm all for putting the halt to speechifying, but what's up with reciting the Gettysburg address? Four-score and seven years ago, my maternal grandmother was born. I'd be happy to stand up and speak about that occasion to this great nation, but I don't think September 11, 2002 is the day to do it, and I certainly don't want to hear about the battle of Gettysburg that day either.

I don't plan to turn on the TV or radio, and I might not even fire up the computer. I'll be spending all day doing... nothing. Other than walking in the woods, romping with my dogs, tending the cool-weather vegetables in my garden, reading the psalms, playing my piano, tickling my goddaughter, raising my new Stars and Stripes on the doorstep. Being grateful for my abundant blessings.
Oh, why not.

1. What's your favorite piece of clothing that you currently own?
I don't wear it, but I collect vintage lingerie -- I have an ancient burgandy velvet - ecru lace dressing gown. I had my portrait made in it once, but I don't think it should be worn again.

2. What piece of clothing do you most want to acquire?
Pej's socks.

3. What piece of clothing can you not bring yourself to get rid of? Why?
Not an issue. My mom and I made a deal some time back that everytime she hands down a clothing item to me, I ditch something in my closet. Since she loves to shop and I HATE to shop, this works for both of us.

4. What piece of clothing do you look your best in?
I consider chador to be a really hot look for me.

5. What has been your biggest fashion accident?
A few years ago, when I performed a solo piano/vocal concert, somebody took a picture of me from behind. The suit I was wearing looked really good, but one does not need to be photographed sitting on a piano stool. It's not pretty, no matter what you're wearing.

[Smoochy, Jen.]
I'd be happy to squeeze either one of these yummies to death!

College Football - North vs. South

Women's Accessories:
North: Chap Stick in back pocket and a $20 bill in the front pocket.
South: Louis Vuitton duffel with two lipsticks, water proof mascara, and a fifth of bourbon. Money not necessary - that's what dates are for.

Stadium Size:
North: College football stadiums hold 20,000 people.
South: High school football stadiums hold 20,000 people.

North: Rudy Guliani
South: Paul "Bear" Bryant

Getting Tickets:
North: 5 days before the game you walk into the ticket office on campus and purchase tickets.
South: 5 months before the game you walk into the ticket office on campus and put name on waiting list for tickets.

[Thanks, Terry. Did I ever tell you about the time I was taking classes at Auburn and Shug Jordan died and we all got out of class and somebody had to explain to me who he was? Naaa, guess I didn't.]
Every year around this time, something -- the new birds visiting the backyard, the occasional leaves drying up and swirling around the trees, the change of color of the sky -- spells fall. I'm grateful from the promised relief from the heat and humidity, but when this seasonal change begins, I feel the slightest melancholy.

This song says it best for me:

There are a few new freckles on your shoulders
the hammock swings lower and touches the grass
the apples are ripe and the corn is past
everyone says summer goes by so fast
and we just got here

I can hardly believe it but it’s ended
the beach is a haze and old love’s a ghost
Hugo is twisting his way up the coast
if you blew out to sea I’d love you most
and we just got here

Nostalgia, you fake, you bittersweet ache
the time that you take could make another heart whole
could the truth be, that I won’t really see, how much I love you, till it's over

The two of us left here alone in the house
you bleed the pipes while I bring in the plants
put our faces in place for September’s dance
if you’re willing, I’m willing to take one more chance
and we just got here
When I was a teenager, I was THE most marginalized kid in my tiny private high school. Felt like it, anyway. I was tall and shapeless and dressed like a hippy and wore an afro-style do because, quite frankly, that's all my hair would do at the time. The other girls went shopping with Daddy's money and had perfect Farrah hair, all of them. I made good grades quite easily and could play the piano like nobody else there, but my social skills left everything to be desired. So when the captain of the football team actually asked me out on a date, I was a basket case, and once I got my Mom and Dad's permission to date at the tender age of 16, I went to the Homecoming game wearing the corsage he had sent to me, and not believing my amazing luck. He and I dated for two years, until I went away to college. Two weeks after arriving at my college, my mom called to tell me that Ricky's wedding announcement was in the paper. He'd been dating another girl all along.

This sort of thing happened to me several times while I was in my twenties, either due to my own naivete' or just the desire to find somebody because a good christian girl was supposed to get married and have a passel of christian kids. 'Round about age 30, I realized that I wasn't cut out to be that girl, and what's more, I didn't mind.

My litmus test now consists of, among other things, how nice the guy is to the waiter, and whether or not he genuinely gets along with his parents. Manners and a gentle nature matter a hell of a lot more to me than a hot car.

Once I had this epiphany, I started having better relationships with men. I threw all that guilt out the window, the assumed expectations, the desire to have a husband at all costs. I've made some more mistakes, sure, but I'd rather be right here, right now, single, with good close god-given friends, and pretty darn happy about it, than stuck in a house and a relationship with someone just because I'm "supposed" to be in one.

That's why you're wrong, Pete. Sure, some girls find themselves attracted to men who'll treat them badly or take advantage of them, but some of us don't. You can throw up your hands in feigned exasperation if you like, over the fact that "girls don't want a guy who's nice to them," or you can just be that nice guy and see what happens. In my experience, the guys who say things like you just did typically aren't the "nice" guys in question.

Don't be lazy, and don't make excuses. You're wasting yourself and missing out on all kinds of good stuff.
Since somebody very nice just flowed me enough love to pay my phone bill, it's only fair that he get a couple of rack shots from the weekend.

Hey, dude, what's the Missus gonna think about this, hm??

I've got a really great ass shot from SOMEONE WE BOTH KNOW but I have to ask her if she'll let me post it. Wouldn't want to do anything shameless or trashy, ya know.