Bitches Please

So one of those vampire movies is coming out. Maybe its already here - I don't follow the series but those actors are all over the place so I figure there's something afoot. That excessively handsome young man who doesn't know a vagina from a Swedish car (see March 13) is in the movie along with another kid who recently reached his 18th birthday and women are going nuts.

Here's what's weird. When I say "women", I'm not just talking about females in their late adolescence or early 20's. There are ladies MY AGE swooning like teenagers over these (barely not) children. I have nothing against older women with younger men. I mean my son's girlfriend is 10 years older than he is. She's lovely and their relationship is wonderful. They are also in the same generation. Some of these vampire lover gals could be grandmas to the actors they're slobbering over. Ew.

I was watching the "Today Show" the other day and one of these actors had a body guard to keep people from touching the goodies while he circled the crowd. Lots of the hands they were brushing off were wrinkly and had liver spots. He was polite and gracious to everyone which makes me think he must be a pretty good actor. The body guard looked kind of disgusted. You've got to admit that's gotta be pretty icky duty.

The thing is, do they not realize the people in those movies are not real? In People Magazine a few weeks ago (Yes, I subscribe, it was a gift from the hub...What?)there was an article about a woman who decorated a room in her house in a total vampire movie theme. Including, but not limited to posters,cardboard standups, sheets and movie paraphernalia. I also read where marriages are breaking up over vampire obsessions. Bitches, please...

I hope women who are obsessed with these stories (and ladies, they are just stories) realize that they were made up by a woman. Lots of women write romantic fiction. Our minds just work that way. Once tapped - our romance gland can create ooey, gooey prose that would make your hair curl softly, softly over your silken shoulder. Your satin robe pushed back, while your body achingly awaited his touch.

See, all it takes is a feminine brain and a hormone. I'm not saying men can't write romance, but, ironically, the kind of brooding, manly men that vampire obsessed women fantasize about could probably no more write a romantic sex scene than decorate a powder room. Plus, I've gotten to know a few brooding men in my life and I've discovered that when women think men are awash in deep, romantic thoughts, they're most likely trying to decide on tap or bottle beer.

I hope that when all these ladies who are changing their lives for fictitious young men and scenarios float back down to earth, they have something to land on. It would be depressing to wait for a pale, young stud to bite your neck and find out that he was your grandson's friend from Oregon.

Wedding Week

The wedding I've been looking forward to is in the history books. The rehearsal was last Friday. It was fun and disorganized, as all wedding rehearsals are. There was lots of giggling and running around. Afterwards there was napping and then a burrito buffet and lots of wine. Which might have been the catalyst for the hub and me putting the table decorations on our heads and dancing in the bar. Well, the table decorations were straw sombreros and we didn't dance on the tables. Plus, the band contained one aging and wrinkly Doobie Brother so we felt dancing was in order. And it was my birthday which was cool. I got free ice cream at lunch.

Saturday dawned way too early and after breakfast we spent the day hanging out and annoying people. The girls were getting their hair and makeup done in the bridal suite. The boys were trying to eradicate their hangovers (the girls probably were, too but at least they smelled good). About noon, the hub and I wandered down the street to Pizza My Heart for a slice. Halfway through, his phone rang. It was the daughter unit and Maid of Honor who was having a shoe emergency; as in the ones she had didn't look right with the dress. Or her hair, which caused me to bust out into a chorus of "Don't Cry For Me Argentina" when I first saw it. Not my best move and one of the reasons I offered to run out and get her another pair of shoes.

The problem was, I knew what she needed and I was certain we could find them at Payless. But there are no Paylesses in Los Gatos. Google maps located one in San Jose and we zipped over there got the shoes and tried to zip back before the bridal party left the hotel. We would have made it, too, but the hub, who never gets lost anywhere, got lost. On the plus side, we drove through Saratoga which is pretty.


We got back to the hotel about 5 minutes after the limo left. The ceremony didn't start til four o'clock and it was only 1:45 so we knew we'd get the shoes to the daughter in time but we had to catch our shuttle to the wedding site at 2:15. We raced to our room and threw on our clothes. Then I decided I looked fat in my dress so I put on one of the other ones I'd brought(in case I looked fat) tossed some makeup at my face and ran to catch the shuttle. We made it.

The shoes fit, and I realized why the dress I chose to wear wasn't my first choice...I kept having to hoist up the front because my bra kept showing. So I ditched the bra. I still had to hoist it up to keep the girls in line, but at least nobody saw my bra which was, to put it mildly, really ugly. Plus, I had a shawl that could hide a multitude of sins (including, I just realized, my bra) so I was all set.

The wedding ceremony was gorgeous, touching, spiritual and fun. The bride was not beautiful - she was exqisite! The groom was handsome and adorably dorky. We laughed, we cried. There were flowers, trees, birds tweeting, sunbeams, joy, prayers. It was a great wedding. The reception was fun, if a little cold. Great food, good wine, awesome beer (the hub made it). Then we repaired to a large barn for dancing, coffee, more wine and cake. It was so much fun everybody wanted it to last all night, but, alas, we had to catch the 10 pm shuttle.

The next morning, my friend and her hubby put on a wedding brunch with great food and (surprise!) champagne. This was how a wedding should be - three days of parties, wine, family and so much fun! We sent off the new couple with lots of hugs and kisses. They are a great pair and I'm so happy for them. The only problem is that this wedding has been in the planning stages for more than a year. And now its over. Done. Now what?

I think I'll get a puppy.

Tiny Temporary Family

The hub and I went to the ballpark last night. Our Mighty Giants were playing the A's and since we were in Oakland when the A's spanked SF, we were looking for some payback. Since we'd watched the last two games from the nosebleed area, we alerted Tenzig (Norgay - our Sherpa friend) that we could find our own way to our seats. Because we got good seats - not great ones in the field club, but two rows back. So we didn't have waiters, but we did have a great view of the game.

When you take your seats at a baseball game, you have to get to know, to some extent, your seat mates. After all, you are going to be confined together for two and a half to three hours. You will eat together, drink together, and work toward a common goal - trying to avoid having to pee when there are runners on base...


I got to chase some guys out of our seats, which was cool, never done that before. When we got settled, three men came and sat in front of us. As soon as he sat down, the guy in front of me started talking, and talking. This guy looked and sounded like a guy who, if you wanted to cast somebody to play a midwestern minister, you'd pick him. Tall white guy with thinning white hair, kind of doughy, perfectly pressed shirt, well modulated voice and he never shut up. In his favor, he knew a lot about sports, but - damn...His name was Scott.

About a half hour into Scott's homily about Pablo Sandoval's weight problem, I whispered to the hub asking if he had a sock I could stuff in Scott's mouth. He offered his shorts. I considered it. Speaking of weight problems, there was a family of future heart attack victims accross the aisle and I wanted to smack the parents who kept feeding the kids chips.

Right behind us was a guy who I think was on a date with the woman next to him. I caught her eye as he was finishing up a story about hitting a rubber snake on some pole at spring training. We shook our heads. Dude - if you have to preface a story with "This is so funny..." - its not funny. Don't think there will be a next date. Behind him was Crazy Uncle A's Fan who brought his horn and kept talking about the A's as if he was part of the team "We're hitting real well - We had a great spring" etc. Um...the A's don't hire lard butts...well, except Jack Cust.

The game was a nail biter at the end, but they pulled it out for Zito. I was exhausted. Good game, though. Reverend Scott left early, probably to go home and tune up today's sermon. The Fat Family hung in til the end which was impressive because by the ninth inning they'd run out of food and had to actually watch the game. Date Couple ditched in about the seventh inning. The Giants scored - don't think he did...Crazy Uncle A's Fan broke his horn -awwwww. The hub ran into him in the potty line after the game and said he was a nice guy - pretty funny and just enjoying the game. Uh - what if the A's had won?

Our next game is Monday. I can't wait to see who we sit near. Of course, its Halloween in June at the park and we'll be in our Star Trek uniforms (original series) so theres a good chance nobody will sit by us. Maybe we should take a horn...

Leftovers

I have to apologize for last night's post. I was really tired and I so wanted to crawl into my bed with the hub and the dog; plus we'd been to a funeral and I was a little distracted; and the Giants game was on TV and they were winning. So that's why yesterday's post was so egregiously banal (My 8th grade teacher, Mr. Duff, was right - those words did come in handy...I AM glad he taught them to me - dammit.)

There were some thoughts bouncing around in my head and was afraid they would fall out if I didn't get them down before I fell asleep. So I wrote them down. Then today, I read through it again. It sucked (Hey, Mr. Duff - I picked that one up on my own - not fancy, but it works...). Then I got to thinking, I've left a few loose ends dangling, so I'll catch up...

I bought the Spanx! Its a pretty cool garment that, if I was a skank, I could wear as a dress. Its actually a different brand than Spanx, but it does the job. The bra, undies and slip are all one garment and it smooths out all the bumpy parts. There is a thin rubberized strip under the hem so it won't ride up. It also has stitching around the ass part that, if mine was perkier, would make it stand up and salute.

There's another word I found that sounds dirty but isn't. Its "diphthong" which sounds like something a skank (me if I wore my Spanx as a dress!) could wear in a swimming pool. Its actually a two vowel sound in a single syllable. Perfectly acceptable but it sounds gross.

Oh, yeah,aside from tonight, the Giants are winning! Timmy's last game wasn't a winner but it wasn't a loser either. It makes no sense. I think you have to be four years old and a rabid baseball fanatic to understand it. Also - yesterday, our four year old rabid baseball fanatic neighbor who has an imaginary baseball game going 24/7 added the National Anthem to his repertoire. Our across the street neighbor flies her flag nearly every day so he takes off his hat and faces it while belting out the song. Anybody who's out there joins in. Our across the street neighbor thinks we really like her...

Life is improving. Its not all better yet, but its getting there. As we all know, life is a journey, not a destination, and what doesn't kill us makes us stronger, and that includes last night's post...

I'm starting to make old people noises. Not the organic pops, creaks and toots that you expect from someone approaching the time to start thinking about when they'll become old; well, those too, but...my accessories are getting noisy.

See, when I was a kid charm bracelets were very fashionable and all the old ladies wore them. A lady was old when she was over 40. Basically, that was time to be put out to pasture or left on an ice floe to be eaten by polar bears. I guess that's why they wore the charm bracelets - those charms clanking together would scare the polar bears away.

All I knew was that if I heard clanking and smelled gardenias there was a grandma in the vicinity. Grandmas also wore shoes that made hollow thunks on the floor. They used old-school cigarette lighters that went clack, shoosh, chwa.

Now, I will never, ever use a cigarette lighter for its intended purpose, but the last pair of shoes I bought are kind of ugly and when I walk on hard floors they kind of thunk. I also have started collecting charms for my bracelet. The new style of charms don't dangle but they're like metal beads which fit on a metal rope-like bracelet.

These charms are silent but when I was cleaning out my garage, I found a silver bangle with a prayer inscribed on it. Its one of those mobius strip bracelets that has a twist in it so it can hold a really long prayer. I put it on with my charm bracelet. When I moved my arm - I clanked!

It took me a minute to recognize the sound but then I located it in the rusty, slightly corroded file cabinet of my mind. It was a grandma noise! If I put on my thunky shoes and walk down the hall while shaking my bracelets I might get so wrapped up in my past that I'll inadvertantly brace myself for a pinch on my cheek.
My transformation is coming together...All I need is some gardenia perfume.

Connections

You know that story that illustrates how everything is connected to everything else? The one about a butterfly flapping its wing in Brazil eventually causing a hurricane in Texas? Its a way of showing that even tiny actions have repercussions. Like that same butterfly flapping a second time and the resulting breeze causes my skirt to blow up into my face just as the picture is snapped and I'm wearing granny panties. I hate bugs.

I like cherries, though, which is why I'm glad I have cats. See, a few years ago I got the hub a cherry tree for Father's Day. He loves peaches and apricots but he likes cherries more than all the other fruits combined and since he didn't get mine I figured the least I could do was give him the ability to grow his own.

We planted the tree at the bottom of a little slope in our backyard so we could stand at the top of the slope and pick the fruit on the top and the bottom branches. It seemed like a brilliant idea when we put it in the ground, but we hadn't counted on the fact that birds like cherries, too.

Every year we saw blossoms on the tree which would start to turn into nice little yellow orbs. As soon as they started to blush and get a teeny bit sweet, the birds would devour them and leave just a pit swinging by a stem. I like birds but this was annoying. I mean, I'm willing to share but there has to be compromise. Those birds were just pigs...

And then we got Wilson, our little striped cherry protector. We'd had a cat for awhile, but Beatrice, our tuxedo kitty, spends most of the day doing her impersonation of roadkill. Wilson, on the other hand is constantly in motion, always looking to play with whatever is at paw. He seems to have eased off on his earbud fetish although that may have something to do with us changing to white ones which match our bed sheets so he can't see them (We listen to music at night to get to sleep).

Wilson loves to play outside, and enjoys climbing trees which scares the birds away. Until Wilson decides that cherries look like tasty earbuds, we're in heaven! The cherries are starting to ripen and I ate my first one today. Almost sweet enough, perfect texture and no beak holes!

I'm so glad Wilson has caused his ripples through our house. The only problem is that if ever a butterfly happens into our backyard when Wilson is out there, the world's weather could change forever.