The Worst of Times, The Best of Times

Ever since I was canned from my job, Ive gone through periods of being OK to periods of being pretty darn depressed. I worked at a school and I suppose its only natural since I spent 20 years at that place, it became rather thoroughly entwined with my life and I got close to the kids. I spent lots of time even on my time off doing things, shopping, writing, for that place or thinking about ways to improve it. I was dedicated.

So when they told my they no longer wanted me to work there, I was poleaxed. After I cried my eyeballs out, I decided to purge the place from my belongings. Every year at that stupid place, we would order sweatshirts to sell to raise money. Each one had a our distinctive teddy bear logo and the name of the place on it. I had about six of them and my family each had one; I had raised a lot of money for that stupid place. I gathered them all up and next time we went to a baseball game I distributed them to the homeless people who ask for money on the way to the ballpark. They were grateful and I felt good.

I'd just start feeling better and then every time a significant date in the past year has come around, I have found myself getting depressed all over again. Since the end of the school year is upon us, there are lots of activities I'm missing,so its been kind of hard. My sweet hub has been doing his best to keep me busy.

We've been going to lots of baseball games and the Giants have been winning like crazy. This thrilled me and raised my spirits. I love my Mighty Gigantes and my favorite player, Tim Lincecum. Plus all the other players in orange and black. For most of the spring, I was getting along rather well...and then the Giants started losing. Whatever buoyed them in the beginning of this year seems to have leaked out like air from a tire, or a whoopee cushion. I started getting sad again.

There's oil flowing into the Gulf of Mexico, they've hired a permanent replacement for me, and the Giants are losing - how low can you go? Then last night we went to the Giant's game with some college friends. It was fun and Timmy was pitching so we were expecting a win. Unfortunately, Timmy had a really off night. Really,really off. Plus their bats ran out of hits. The Giants lost and Timmy seemed so sad I wanted to hug him and make it all better then put all the bats in a pile for the rest of the Giants and burn them and order new ones with hits in them. So last night sucked, even though it was great to see our old friends.

And then on the way back to our car, we crossed the Lefty O'Doul bridge where its usually a mini shopping mall for Panda hats, ball caps and 'Let Tim Smoke' t- shirts. Last night, though, there were very few salespeople there, just one panda hat vendor and a couple of homeless guys on the corner with a guitar and a harmonica in front of an open guitar case with a sign asking for "beer money - no lie". We'd already handed out all of our donation dollars so we started to skirt around them when my hub said "Look..."

I responded with my customary "Huh?" and he said "Look at the guy with the guitar." so I did. And there, playing a credible tune, was a skinny, haggard-looking man with no front teeth and a billy goat beard, singing "I need money for beer and weed!" And wearing a sweatshirt with a distinctive teddy bear logo and the name of the stupid place that fired me on it. We gave him some money and I kept the laughter to a low roar until we were out of their proximity, and then I really let go. I'm still laughing today - beer and weed and teddy bears.

So I will feel better, Timmy will get his groove back, the Giants will start hitting again and somehow, someway, they'll get that oil stopped and cleaned up. All ya gotta do is wait out the bad times - the good times will return. And as for that stupid place that fired me...what goes around, comes around. Beer and weed and teddy bears.Ha!

Big decision

I'm thinking about buying a Spanx. I know what you're thinking: "OK, go out and get the damn thing". But here's my problem, if I buy a Spanx, which is a piece of "control wear" it will involve breaking a vow I made to myself about 48 years ago, to wit: " I will never, ever, ever wear a girdle of any kind.

See, I come from a generation whose mothers trussed themselves up in larval versions of Spandex on a regular basis. My mom only girdled up if it was a really special occasion, but I had friends whose moms got up and wrestled themselves into their Platex Tummy Control torture devices every morning. My best friend's mom, for instance.

When I was a kid, hugging was not the common practice it is now. Its not that people were cold, but usually a pat on the head was the reward for a job well done. Its a good thing, too, because my friend's mom wore a full girdle contraption every day. Bumping into her was like running into a wall. There was absolutely no give - at all. I can only imagine what a hug would have felt like. "Honey, how did you get that black eye?" "I hugged Mrs. Francis."

I just knew that running into an adult woman by accident or because I felt like they needed to be rammed into was an unpleasant experience. Not that I ever achieved ramming speed, but I had a first grade teacher who was a real pain in my patootie and once I often fantasized about running into her on the playground so she'd fall and skin her knee. I probably would have knocked myself silly on her undergarments.

Not only were women encased in girdles, but on TV there were dire warnings about "midriff bulge", which was a consequence of wearing a bra on top and a girdle on the bottom. The flab had nowhere to go, so it squirted out the middle like a wobbly donut, all the way around. Thus was invented the "long line" bra which met up with the top of the girdle. This created a kind of constricting jumpsuit. In hot, humid Houston, Texas for Pete's sake - its no wonder they didn't hug much.

In any case, once when I watched my mom wrestle her way out of a girdle, I said to myself "I will never, ever, ever put on one of those things. And I never have - not even control top panty hose. Not even when I was fat! But now I lost the flab and I bought a dress. One of those dresses that really emphasizes the hour glass shape of my bod. Oddly, I don't look like that with my clothes off but this dress...it does all the right things to all the right stuff and I really want to wear it!

Problem is that it is really tight and undie lines will show. A Spanx will solve that problem, but I have to break my vow with my young self. Maybe I'll just try one on and see how it feels. Yes, its a control garment, but if control is not my intent, then maybe I'm not going back on my word. I just hope I'm not heading for some kind of slippery stretchy slope.

Multi Tasking

I have always been a good multi tasker. Even before there was a name for it, I could do ten things in rapid succession without forgetting one detail. Those were the days. I haven't blogged in more than a week because I've been preparing for a bridal shower. I never thought I was anal retentive until I started planning this soiree. The bride's colors are pink and orange so I became obsessed with acquiring pink and orange decor.

Did you know Michael's has pink ribbon with orange polka dots? And you can get paper lanterns in tons of colors online for a dollar or less each. If you hang them in bunches they are cooler looking than balloons and much greener because you can re-use them. Also online there are craft stores where you can get organza ribbon for a song! Big Lots has pink and orange plates, cutlery, and napkins.

I have begun to dream in pink and orange. I even see pink and orange when I close my eyes and I'm drawn to anything pink or orange in stores. Just the other day, I found myself in the Barbie aisle at Target, stroking box tops and hyperventilating. The nice lady at Newark Flowers ordered me pink and orange Gerbera daisies which looked great in the stemless wine glasses with pink aquarium rocks in the bottom. Not the neon pink rocks, the dark pink ones.

My finger nails are pink. My Snuggie is orange (with Giants logos on it!). I planted some pink and orange flowers in my yard, but my cat objected to the orange ones so now I have pink flowers and dead plants. About the time my brain returns to normal it will be time for the wedding and more pink and orange. The bride and her mom have got good taste, though, so it will be subtle and classy.

The shower was a success, though, and everybody had a good time. The girls were in the backyard eating finger food while the boys were in the front bottling beer (The hub is brewing the wedding suds). I thought we'd have to chase men away from our backyard buffet table but it turned out that the women kept invading the man-zone. We did take the fellas food to balance out the beer they were swilling. They especially liked the bean burger sliders. So did I. My son's mixologist girlfriend sent some drinks she made (a pink one and an orange one) that we could mix with champagne or club soda. We used champagne. They were delicious and didn't make it to the man cave.

So I can't party plan and blog at the same time. I can walk and chew gum, and I can eat & talk ( I know, I'm supposed to keep my mouth shut when eating, but sometimes I just gotta talk)...But I'm back - until the next fete...

Oh, yeah, here's a party detail I didn't anticipate - The place looked awesome, the food was good, and the place felt festive, birds were tweeting up a storm, but my 15 year old border collie got a toxic case of noxious gas. She can clear a room faster than a smoke alarm and she was in primo form during the party. Bless her heart. Next party maybe I'll send her next door to play...That's a detail I won't soon forget.

Words That Sound Dirty

I went outside today and looked a my garden. Its really pretty and what's cool is that a lot of the flowers that got planted last year are blooming this year. This is unusual in my experience, but since we've added water to the mix out there, things actually seem to be thriving! One of the prettiest blooms in the garden is the lobelia, a gorgeous dark purple flower with an obscene sounding name. This got me thinking about words that sound bad but aren't.

Which brought to my mind the situation some years ago where a low-level government employee used the word "niggardly" and was nearly fired for it. That word means extremely stingy and has no racial overtone (never did - its of Scandinavian origin and predates the "n word" by several hundred years) but it sounds evil. The guy who used it was not guilty of anything but stupidly using a word that is not common and sounds really bad.

My best friend in college and I used to crack up over the word "uvula". Its that hangy thing in the back of your throat, but it sounds like something located much lower on the body. "Hi, how's your uvula?" would get us laughing harder than Betty White on Saturday Night Live. We were weird. We also had an imaginary friend named Eunice. Sometimes her uvula would act up and we'd laugh so hard it would hurt. Makes me understand why people never came to our parties.

Some words that seem bad come from church. The first time I heard the word "genuflect" I was shocked. Shocked! They do that in church?! Then I found out it was a sign of respect and reverence so naturally its done in church. OK, well what about the word "rectory"? Do they genuflect in there? Well, yes, they might since its where the priest lives. But those words sound so...well, dirty.

These questionable sounding words have filtered into all areas of my life. Specifically, my garage. My hub brews beer out there and when the brew is fermenting, it flockulates. Right there in my garage! Well,yes, since flockulation is the process of yeast cells clustering together and settling out of the raw beer. Its actually a good thing and it has nothing to do with procreation. But it sounds like a variation of the f-bomb.

I continued on my walk and decided to call my old roomie this weekend. We need to catch up. Her husband had cancer surgery and I need to see how he's doing. Plus, I need to check up on her uvula. Also, its been months since we chatted about Eunice!