Tonight I’m Going to Party Like It’s 2009

Two thousand zero zero party over oops add a nine…tonight I’m going to sell out like the biggest sell-out of all time.

Mark your calendars Prince fans, the artist formerly known as crazy gifted with tons of funk, butt-less chaps, and a whole lotta weird just sold out—to Target.

Ten years after partying like it’s 1999, Prince shows up in Target television and print ads pushing the red-dot friendly store along with his new CD.  (Do people even buy CDs anymore?)

And am I seeing things or does the cover of his CD have a bottle of that Elizabeth Taylor perfume on it?

Thirty Days in the Hole

That headline really doesn’t apply to this post since I don’t think of my home as a “hole” and the fact that Humble Pie was singing about severe drug addiction and it’s consequences really doesn’t fit here; but nonetheless, the song has been stuck in my head all day.

So, thirty Days.

three-o

If all goes as planned, I have thirty days left in my house. My intention is to appreciate and be grateful for every day left. And then, on April 30th, I will graciously and happily hand the keys over to its new owner as I take the keys to my new home.

Four years ago, my husband and I moved into here with a plan. The kitchen was gutted out, we had appliances in the unpainted living room, and the basement…I can’t even talk about the basement. And now I sit here in the messy but finished living room knowing that we did every room with love and care.

I’ve experienced a lot in this house. I was seven when I first moved here. Before I leave, I want to show my gratitude for all this home has provided. I also want to finally let go of anything that may be holding me back.

Insomniac Blogging

It’s really late for a Sunday night and I can’t sleep…so I write.

Property Virgins is on HGTV. The about-to-be-married couple is looking for their first home in DC and the pushy brunette realtor is reinforcing the fact that the closer they get to the metro the higher their price per square foot is going to be. My suggestion: MOVE TO ANOTHER STATE.

My God, these homes are as big as the shed’s in Home Depot’s parking lot and the listing price is $335K.

I know the current, local real estate market is not at its very, very best; but, there is some momentum happening.  And let me just tell you how happy I am to be living in the market I live in. Do you know how much $335K can get you around here? A lot more than you will find by the White House.

What’s Up with Ray Liotta?

So yesterday while watching The Early Show (because my husband had the remote and refuses me my usual morning ritual of Morning Joe or, at least, The Today Show), Ray Liotta showed up outside with Harry Smith and Maggie Rodriguez.

He looked way out of place and not too sure what he was supposed to be doing.

I felt uncomfortable for the guy. I only like seeing him owning his territory as a coked-up mafioso. And then this morning, I walk out to see him making an Easter cake with Martha Steward. Good God he looked out of sorts. Worse than a deer in the headlights, more like a Vampire at a pre-school holiday play.

What’s he pushing anyway? Observe and Report? Which appears to be another Mall Cop movie only with Seth Rogen instead of Kevin James. Ray’s not even the lead.

He needs to get back into a leather blazer, dark sunglasses and light up a cigarette with his zippo. This morning show circuit thing does not fit him at all. I keep wanting him to turn towards the camera and say, “Are you kidding me? This is bullshit. I was in Goodfellas for Christ sakes. Get this fucking apron off of me. I don’t give a shit about Easter cake.”

When Life Gets in the Way

Isn’t it annoying when people fill their conversations with how busy they are? As if they are the only ones who have more than one thing going on at a time? As if we all aren’t crunched for time?

So annoying.

…but…

I made a deal not too long ago to pick up my habit of once-a-day-posts. My plan is to make myself write every day until I finish my novel. Two days into my plan, I forgot and didn’t write one night. No excuses except that I totally and completely forgot.

Now it has happened again, only this time it was not only one night, but TWO. And I didn’t forget. I was simply too exhausted to even look at my laptop.

And while I’m risking annoying myself with my own list of business, the reason I fell off my one a day posts is because life got a little bit in the way. During the last ten days I’ve had a son in the hospital for a two-night stay, my grandfather passed on, my house got sold, and we made an offer (which got accepted) on a new home.

Lots of stuff going on. Good stuff, sad stuff, scary stuff.

All I can say at this point is a big fat caffeine-induced thank you to the bittersweet coffee Gods for their delicious brown nectar that has kept me going through it all.

Wednesday’s Article on Thursday

which you probably won’t be reading until Friday.

Oops.

An age old story

Published in the March 18 issue of The Tribune.

The time between when I have to dye my roots to hide my gray is getting shorter. Either my hair is growing faster than ever or the gray is winning a battle I’ve been fighting since 30. It drives me crazy. I feel like I’m on a losing team and the opponent is tricky and in better shape than me. The gray hairs keep popping up out of the blue (gray?) when I thought I had them covered.

This week, I considered letting it go. What would I look like if I let my gray grow out? It was a moment of ridiculous weakness in the anticipation of having to undergo another 45 minutes with my head covered in goopy L’Oreal deep brown hair dye No. 46. I knew exactly what I would look like — about 20 years older than I am now.

I’m 35 for another four months. My 30s have been so much easier than my 20s that I’m pretty sure my 40s will be effort-free. I’m not one who moans about aging or tries to fight it. I don’t foresee see any lasers or scalpels removing facial lines. Although, I won’t say never, as the whole “never say never” rule was one of those life lessons I learned a long time ago. I color my hair because I’m what I consider a prematurely gray-haired lady.

My hair started turning gray before I had kids. (My grandmother always told me I was advanced for my age.) It used to be a patch of gray that was at the start of my part. That patch has taken over my entire head at this stage of the game.

This month, I noticed my roots during an overnight stay at the hospital with my 4-month-old son. We had to stay a few days at Kosair so that he could receive antibiotics via an IV because of an ear infection that went haywire. You would think such circumstances would have a mom pondering the delicate nature of life and how fragile, yet simultaneously resilient, we all are, even at four-months old.

But not me. My thought? “I can’t believe I have to dye my hair AGAIN! And I won’t even get to do it until this weekend because I’m sure Kosair has some kind of rule about never dyeing your hair in your 4-month-old baby boy’s hospital room.” (Unless Kosair follows the never say never rule as well; although, it doesn’t seem like it should apply in this case.) I ignored my roots for those days and hoped my son didn’t notice them and confuse me with one of his grandmothers.

For My Grandfather

My grandpa died tonight. He was my last grandpa and I loved him very much. Towards the end of his life, he took on a striking resemblance to his own father. But, when he was a young seventeen year old who had just joined the Navy, he looked a bit like Sean Penn in Taps.

My Grandpa Elmore liked to fight and he was a crazy smoker for many years, chain smoking Marlboro reds four packs a day. We have old video footage of him at the dinner table eating with a cigarette burning in an ash tray all the while. In one of my favorite pictures of him with my grandma, he’s got a cigarette hanging lazily out the side of his mouth and his eyes are squinting as he is looking into the sun. They both look to be in their early, early twenties.

He quit smoking cold turkey. It was after his father died of lung cancer and he came home from the funeral and threw all of his cartons of smokes in the fireplace. And that was that.

My grandfather owned a motorcycle the entire time I knew him and took me on many rides. Once we went up to Indianapolis to ride around the Indy 500 track during the Governor’s Day Ride. I still have a pin from that day and I was maybe twelve. He always had a Harley. Sometimes he had more than one bike, but one of them would always be a Harley. That’s where my daughter’s name came from.

My grandfather was feisty and funny and a flirt. He had a way of telling stories that always made you think there were grittier details he was keeping for himself.

The more I write this, the more I miss him. I’m going to stop now because it’s starting to hurt. I love you grandpa. Thank you for being my grandpa.

Surprise!

I’ve been thinking a lot about melting into the world around me and finding the wonder, excitement, and anticipation in all we do not know yet.

Sound cheesy? Don’t act surprised. It’s me you’re reading.

I wonder what my son will be like when he is as old as his sister. Her personality is big and bright and I’m sure he will follow suit.

I wonder what is next for my husband and me…where we will be living next year, what will be that big project we’re working on, our new favorite spot to eat out. We will meet new friends? Will we host a 13 year anniversary party?  Will we have Christmas dinner at our house?

Our daily doses of gloom and doom are high right now if all you do is watch the news…I like to think more about all that is good and fruitful. I like the excitement of not knowing what the next best thing to happen will be. And there is always another great thing waiting for you…if that’s what you’re searching for.

How not to make an ass out of u and me

So during my usual Monday morning work meeting, I thought of a few things you should never assume…actually i thought of one thing, but it’s really important and easy to remember:

Never assume that you’re the smartest person in the room.

Yep, it was that kind of Monday morning.

What a Week

I’m exhausted. This week has been filled with every emotion I can come up with. Fear, anxiety, excitement, happiness, sadness, content, peace…and they were all shoved into about six intense days. Once I have a bit more energy, I will write about the week in more detail. For now I’m going to rest on it and hope tomorrow brings some clarity and more happiness.