A Year of Scary Living
December 28th, 2011 § 11 Comments
I’ve never really made New Years Resolutions. Nothing against them or people who make them, but I just don’t think I’ll keep them simply for the sake of “HEY. IT IS A NEW YEAR.” Also, I want to live every day like I’m “taking the world into my arms” (from my favorite Mary Oliver poem) and that phrase just about sums up everything I hope to accomplish in a resolution.
This year is different. I turn 29 in January - the final year of my twenties. The past two years, I’ve adopted a ”DO THINGS THAT SCARE ME” mentality. I’ve loved it. I’ve hated it. I’ve done things I wouldn’t do again. I’ve done things I’d repeat in a heart beat. I’ve discovered a lot about myself and still have so much more to learn.
My resolution - and I’m not going to call it that - I’m going to call it A Year of Scary Living - is to intensify what I’ve done. Times a jabillion (actual number).
Most of you read about the guitar I got at Thanksgiving. Before the year is over, I want to feel comfortable and
Like this. Only without the fishnet stockings and very short skirt. Maybe I already own that top.
competent enough to play it in public. If the public will have me. If the public won’t have me, I’ll put myself playing on youtube. But let’s shoot for the kind of public humiliation that can’t go viral. Yes? A Year of Scary Living.
You all might roll your eyes at this, but I guess I consider myself something of a humorists. In high school I loved being in plays and performing on stage. Give me a sheet of paper and a character and I’ll memorize the words and practice the delivery until it is hammered into perfection. I would like to combine the humor with the onstage aspect this year and do some standup comedy. If the standup world will have me. If it won’t, I’ll put it on youtube. A Year of Scary Living.
The following isn’t huge because I’ve been doing it all along, but I want to write EVERY DAY and not feel guilty about the time it takes away from my family. I think I use my family and the guilt as an excuse not to write sometimes. My youngest is SO BORED with only me around in the mornings before I go to work. Sure, he enjoys the one-on-one time for a while, but most days he asks to go to school with his older siblings. So I’m giving up feeling guilty and putting him in school for ONE MORNING (baby steps) a week. I will use that time to sit in a coffee shop and write. A Year of Scary Living.
The final thing might not seem that scary to some of you, but it is for me: I want to be more fashionable. I know, I hear the collective “Whaaaaaat?” across the internets, but I’m a big fan of “safe” and clothing falls into that category. In person, I’m quite shy and my clothing kind of reflects that. I don’t do daring things with colors or patterns and jewelry just hasn’t seemed sensible with extreme child-rearing. My work isn’t the type where I really have to dress up. Most days I’ll wear a nice pair of jeans, a basic shirt, and a cardigan. My building is cold and maybe I’m a grandmother. Long story short, I LOVE looking at cute clothes and accessories, but am just too scared to make any kind of fashion plunge. It’s so much easier to go with what I know than take a risk. I’m welcome to fashion suggestions or tips. I stalk modcloth.com and ordered this dress from them.
Pardon the mess.
WOULD TOTALLY DO IT AGAIN, but it was such a “Is this cute on me? What shoes should go with it? What jewelry? WHAT IF I DO IT WRONG?” These things shouldn’t be so stressful, but I’m uncomfortable with lots of attention and the wrong kind of attention would just be GAH. NOBODY LOOK AT ME. I’M CLIMBING INTO A HOLE. The Stud and I were walking around Target one evening, being our regular sexy selves. I saw a display for ULTIMATE CARDIGANS and told him, “That is what I need. Not just a cardigan, but an ULTIMATE CARDIGAN.”
So, this is my Year of Scary Living 2012: Guitars, Comedy, Putting my youngest child in school so I can write for one day WOW that’s a mouthful to say, and Fashion. More items might be added. Like a body building competition.
Stay tuned! Thanks for reading. You’re all beautiful!
The Winners of my Christmas Giveaway Thing
December 21st, 2011 § 2 Comments
Thanks to all who entered! I used to be able to post youtube videos on here, but can’t for some reason. I will figure it out, but until then the winner is revealed HERE.
Take care, everyone!
Great Books, From Me to You
December 11th, 2011 § 17 Comments
It is Christmas time and a season for giving. Here are three awesome books that are newish to me and I want to give them away because THEY ARE AWESOME and I like you guys. Have you lost weight?
The CHICKtionary by Anna Lefler 
This is a hilarious. It includes more than 450 words, ranging from “A-Line” to “Z-Snap.” But the book does more than just provide definitions. It offers interesting comments, examples, and comic relief.
An Excerpt:
Backrub, noun
1. A soothing, therapeutic massage of the shoulders and/or back that is ideally administered by a trained professional, but can also be quite pleasurable when given by a motivated amateur (preferrable neither an employee of yours nor the person who signs your paycheck). 2. When placed in quotation marks, “backrub” takes on a different shade of meaning, namely an excuse for a man to apply his hands on you in hopes that his skillful caress will work you into such a lather of desire that he’ll soon be penning one of those Penthouse Forums letters.
People were startled by my laughter as I read this. I want to be Anna Lefler someday. Thankfully, I’m already married, blonde, tallish, and have children. I feel downright rotten for all those women waiting on mail-order grooms. They have to wait that much longer to achieve Leflerdom.
Ketchup Is A Vegetable: And Other Lies Moms Tell Themselves by Robin O’Bryant
where three beautiful princesses live. She is the best krinkle-nut digger by far, but she longs for more: the dresses, the parties, the royal life. Up, up, up Lala climbs and sneaks into the castle. She tries on the princesses’ gowns…and is caught. But the princesses dress Lala up and let her attend a ball. She stumbles. She bumbles. She is laughed at. Can Lala find it in her heart to forgive the girls who tricked her? Will Lala find out what it means to be a real princess?
Something Everyone Should Read from NPR
December 6th, 2011 § Leave a Comment
Guitars and Panties
November 28th, 2011 § 15 Comments
My husband and I were talking one night while folding clothes on the floor of our bedroom. SEXY stuff us married folk do. With Christmas approaching, we always want to make sure our kids don’t get too much. We have way too many toys already.The conversation eventually turned to what we wanted and needed.
“An electric guitar,” I heard myself say and eyed my panty pile. It was rather pathetic looking. “And panties. I need panties. I have exactly four pairs.”
Don’t look at me like that from the other side of the computer, judging me. We wash often. Like…every other day.
“Guitars and panties?” he said. “This sounds like a blog post you should write.” (and so you see I am)
We already own an acoustic guitar and I have a mediocre ability playing it. I’ve always wanted an electric one, but couldn’t justify paying for it when I hardly play the one we do have. Since we moved, I’ve played it more. Maybe if I had a sexy electric one in front of me, I’d want to play even more.
A few days later, I called my brother Kevin* up (for he is an excellent guitar player, owning an electric guitar, a bass, two acoustic ones, and a stand up bass he’s affectionately named “Ms. Otis”), and asked to borrow one of his for a while, just to feel things out. Then he and I could go shopping (because he is so knowledgable - a walking 6’4″ Google for guitars) after Christmas for mine.
He agreed and showed up Thanksgiving Day with this.
I’d never seen it before.”Where’d you get this?” I asked.
“It belongs to Amelia* (his wife). She never plays it and its been in our attic forever.”
I turned to Amelia. “I didn’t even know you had an electric guitar.”
She nodded. “I don’t think I’ve ever played it. Ollie Green* gave it to me in the 10th grade and my father didn’t like it. He thought the stickers Ollie put on there were too suggestive or provocative. So I told him I’d take the stickers off and would keep it.”
She pointed to an area of the guitar where she tried to remove the stickers a little too hard.
“A few things,” Kevin went on. “The bridge was totally knocked out of place, sticking up, and the back piece is missing. I secured it with this wire, so it should be okay.”
He turned the guitar around and showed me what he’d done.
“Will I need to ground it before plugging it in?” I asked.
*crickets*
Kevin continued. “After you’re comfortable playing this one, I’d be happy to go shopping with you.”
I shook my head. “I want this one. How much do you want for it?”
Kevin and Amelia stared at me, but I was ready to buy it from them. I’m not saying I won’t want another guitar SOME DAY at some point and time, but for the purpose of “learning” and owning one, I wanted this Charvel.
See, Ollie Green graduated high school with me. We didn’t know each other that well, but we ended up attending the same University, and hung out more then. He joined a fraternity and asked me to an informal social – as a friend (I was dating my husband at the time and even then, people would refer to me as “married”) - and I got to know him better.
As Kevin and Amelia told me the story of the guitar, Ollie appeared in my mind’s eye wearing baggy jeans, smoking a cigarette on the quad. I wanted to find him on facebook, to tell him that I had his guitar, but couldn’t find him.
I wanted the guitar because it was used, because of the scratches, and because of the story behind it. Ollie Green has dropped off the face of the earth. I’ve barely thought about him in ten years, but I’m thankful to have a piece of him, a memory of a friend. Here. Now.
And good grief, I have played this guitar. My fingers feel like they should be bleeding. Oh, the hand cramps. Of all the body parts I’ve cursed, I never thought I’d shout, “CURSE YOU PINKY FINGERS. WHY ARE YOU SO WEAK?” But I have. I am addicted to playing it. After 10+ years, it is brought to life, and I am in love with the life it is giving to me.
Is there something you’ve bought or kept, simply because of the story behind the object?
And I plan on buying my panties new, free of sentimental history. Thanks.
*Names changed for their protection on the internets. You freaks.
