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Archive for December, 2006

 
|| December 29, 2006 || 2:10 am || Comments (1) ||

synchronicity!

What popped up shuffle-wise during this morning’s gym excursion:

(note: I only started paying attention about three songs in. SORRY!)

Nancy Sinatra, ‘These Boots Are Made For Walking’ (cardio)

“You keep samin’ when you oughtta be changin’…”

Nick Gilder, ‘Hot Child In The City’ (cardio)

“Danger in the shape of somethin’ wild…”

Nirvana, ‘You Know You’re Right’ (cardio)

“Things have never been so swell, I have never failed to feel…”

Paul Oakenfold ft. Ice Cube, ‘Get ‘em Up’ (cardio)

“They’s only two kinda women: Big ole good ones and good ole biguns…”

(best lyric ever, I swear. this song also contains the jewel, “Heard you was a big freak! Bitch look down, I gots some big feet.” Deeee-licious.)

PJ Harvey and Thom Yorke, ‘This Mess We’re In’ (cardio)

“…the city landscape comes into being, the sweat on my skin…”

Poe, ‘Angry Johnny’ (back stack)

I can do it to your mind, I can do it to your face, I can do it with integrity, I can do it with disgrace”

Queens Of The Stone Age, ‘In My Head’ (overhead press)

“I keep on playin’ our favorite song, I turn it up while you’re gone, It’s all I got when you’re in my head and you’re in my head so I need it”

Red Hot Chili Peppers, ‘Aeroplane’ (triceps press)

“One note from the song she wrote could fuck me where I lay”

Richard Clayderman, ‘Chariots Of Fire’ (rear delt row)

um, instrumental, but AAHHHHHahaha! I have ‘Chariots Of Fire’ in one of my gym mixes!

Scorpions, ‘Rock You Like A Hurricane’ (flys)

“He’s licking his lips, he’s ready to win”

Steppenwolf, ‘Magic Carpet Ride’ (ab/oblique crunches)

“On a cloud of sound I drift in the night, any place it goes is right”

T-Rex, ‘Bang A Gong’ (cooling stretch)

“Well, you’re windy and wild, you got the blues in your shoes and your stockings”

::: :: ::: :: ::: :: :::

Since you’re dying also to know what my get-ready regimen included this morning from a product standpoint, I’ve decided to mundanely and tediously list all the junk that went into the prepping of my person to face the day today.

Notice I said ‘today’. Several of these things shift and change according to the the day’s mood. These covered today’s:

Hair, the warshing of: Aveda’s Blue Malva Shampoo

Been using this for about fifteen years now. LOOOOOVE it. I’ll occasionally switch up to Aveda’s Pure Abundance or Hair Dextoxifier. Or Dawn Dish Detergent; you know, whatever strikes the fancy.

Face, the warshing of: Lush’s Coalface Soap

Again, I’ll swap every so often to Aveda’s Purifying Gel Cleanser or that Proactiv shit. It’s got scrubbies and scrubbies excite me.

Hair, the conditioning of: Aveda’s Cherry Almond Bark Conditioner

Sweeties, your hair will never smell, feel, or taste better. Shiiiiny hairs will result if you use this marvelous stuffs. Another fifteen-year product.

Teeth, the brushing of: Colgate’s Total Paste

Do not ever ask me to use a product that is not Colgate on my pearly whites. If Colgate ever folds, so will I.

Body, the warshing of: Les Couvent des Minimes’ Honey & Shea Comforting Shower Gelee

Huuuuuuuh-kneeeeeee. Smells just like it. Boys –just like bearses– like honey, I’ve found.

Laigs, the shaving of: Barbasol’s Pure Silk Coconut & Oat Flour Shave Cream

Cheap, fluffy, effective. YAY!

Body, the moisturizing of: Les Couvent des Minimes’ Honey & Shea Body Balm

Goes on thick and creamy but soon gets melty and slick and shiny. SHINY! SHINY IS GOOD! Plus, huuuuuuuh-kneeeeee. This balm is super-rich and it doesn’t take a whole lot to make your skin feel like, baby’s-butt silky.

Face, the exfoliating of: Aveda’s Botanical Kinetics Exfoliant

Not in love with it, but like it a very lot.

Face, the toning of: Aveda’s Botanical Kinetics Skin Toning/Firming Agent

Dear Skin, Perk UP! Love, BKST/FA

Dear BKST/FA, Sure I will! You make me feel great and smell a treat! Love, Skin

Face, the moisturizing of: Aveda’s Tourmaline Charged Hydrating Creme

When I am fifty, I will look forty. Just like how I get pegged for twenty-five all the time now. THANK YOU AVEDA!

Feet, the moisturizing of: Tree Hut’s Brazilian Nut Shea Butter

You have never, ever in your entire whole life smelled something so wonderful as the shea butter line from Tree Hut. I swipe this across my feet in the morning and they still smell edible fifteen hours later. Also, see babybutt remark above.

Hair, the styling of: Aveda’s Light Elements Detailing Mist-Wax, Aveda’s Light Elements Defining Whip, Paul Mitchell’s Fast Drying Sculpting Spray

I like stuff in my hair that doesn’t look or feel like there’s stuff in my hair, but will still make it (mostly) behave. The LE line smells niiiice and doesn’t gunk me all up. The Paul Mitchell is a trusted friend from way-long ago. Twenty years or sommat?

tadaaaa! Kindly note that I work at a place with a spa on board, so I get backbar pricing on the Aveda crrrrap. Other stuff is inexpensive or I wait for a ridiculously good sale and back a wheelbarrow in.

I really would like to leave you with the impression that I’m a high-maintenance, dollah-dropping ho, but you all know that I’m merely White Trash With Aspirations; there’s no sense in my pretending otherwise.

 
|| December 27, 2006 || 12:00 am || Comments (0) ||

Wish me luck!

Shit. I always, always, always forget to pull the party crackers out of the closet for Christmas brunch; we end up stumbling across them some random day in March when the weather is impossibly bad and the children are ‘bored’ (how can you be bored when you have a) your own head and b) all these crazy modern-day contrivances? I call foul.) and I cave to my impulsive side (can a ’side’ equal three-quarters of oneself?): “PARTY CRACKERS, Y’ALL, WHEEEEE!”

So, I forgot the crackers again this year. They are huge and shiny and gold. There must be all sorts of neatness in there. We’ll see in March, I guess.

It was a stocking-rich year. I got like four or five full-sized ones from various folk, packed to the brim with stuffs. In an extreme burst of synergystic something, everyone thought to get me almonds and I can’t keep my face out of the tins for even five seconds, it seems. I just free-range graze from one tin to another. I got honey roasted, spiced, blanched and salted varieties, so there is no getting bored with almondy goodness (as if one could, REALLY!).

One of the things that Santy Closs brot me was a Playstation Two of my very own that I can sex up in the privacy of my very own bedroom and not have to share with my kids.* This is delightful, because this means that they can have their system and I can have mine and I don’t have to kick them off of the unit in the living room so that I can set some Ringwraiths on fire or play the SEXIEST DAMN GAME EV. ARRRR. Which, by the way, the very astute Santy also thot to brot. Folks, I get to rassle critters, shoot people, trample things with my horse, knife anybody who gets in my way, and gamble. Plus, the word ‘fuck’ is programmed in there. I ask you, could there be a game more made for me? By no means am I anywhere remotely near anything that could be called a ‘gamer’, but I played that one for four solid hours yesterday without blinking. My contacts are very, very dry today.

The fireworks stands in honor of the impending New Year are in full swing. I have decided –and firmly, I might add– that I am going to spend a retardedly ridiculous and inflated amount of hard-earned cash on puffs of light and noise and smoke this year. I’m sick to death of nickel-and-diming all the time. I think this year’s resolution might just be to treat money like what it is: Funnily-decorated papers.

Also: I am in the midst of being broken in two. Again. But maybe you smarty-pantses already knew that?

*As of this writing, there is a fireplace, several hundred square feet, many books and notebooks, a mini fridge, a private patio entrance/exit and a small home entertainment setup in there. All I need are a toilet and a jacuzzi and I’ll never, ever have to see the rest of the house again. The kids are getting old enough to be left to their own devices, don’t you think?

 
|| December 24, 2006 || 11:51 pm || Comments (0) ||

Time-honored

first
:: the first ::

When I was about thirteen –not far from the rough peak of our poverty– I made the offhand remark to my mother that, “Wouldn’t it be a nice tradition to exchange ornaments with one another every year?”

The next year we weren’t faring superbly, but we were doing markedly better. I opened a little box on Christmas Eve to find a cheap porcelain angel atop a star; that tacky and wonderful thing still goes on my tree now, some twenty years later, along with all the other ornaments mother has given me since. There has only been one rule all along: The ornament you present a person must mean something. It must be symbolic of that person’s interests or reflect some facet of your connection to them.

It is a tradition I have upheld with my people each and every year; by the time they leave their childhood home to make lives in the world, my children will have enough ornaments to decorate their own tree. I think fondly of these future days, of knowing that no matter how sparsely the rest of their homes may be furnished, all my babies will have things of memory and of sentiment during the Christmas season. They will be able to look at them, no matter where life may lead them, no matter how far away from the roots of their mother’s love they land, and know that each and every bauble –from ones that represent the lean ramen noodle days to the simple luxury that we are now afforded– signifies a moment in time when I was focused on them and them alone.

Merry Christmas, all you lovely people. Blessings on you in the coming year.

 
|| December 23, 2006 || 11:49 pm || Comments (4) ||

Sometimes it doesn’t take much. Not much at all.

The Cookie Ritualtm has been ongoing in the Superior house for nigh on ten days now. Tonight, Piper said to me, “No more sweets for me! It was all fun and games for the first eight days or something, but now I’m feeling pretty barfy.

“Which is not to say, though, that I’ll not be having more right on up to Christmas night.” Right on, Pipey, that’s the spirit!

A few days ago, Piper timidly approached me and asked, “Can Lindsey come over tonight and make Christmas cookies with us?” Lindsey is Boyfriend Recent, and he’s the first one she has ever had that her dad and I actually like. Now, we are not stupid enough to let either him or her know this little tidbit, because that would be just pure foolishness. If they think they are under the watchful eye of semi-hatred, things may just not get out of hand.

So he came over, and I learned a great deal about this boy, just from sitting at a table laden with pans of baked goods and bowls of sprinkles and tubes of icing and playing with him and the three teenagers I lay claim to.

I learned that he has never, ever decorated Christmas cookies in his whole life. He’s never cooked with his mom. He’s never had a live tree, and looked with amazed eyes at the nine-footer in our living room, laden to near-drooping with family-traded ornaments that mark each passing year; he kept running to the tree in the dining room and sniffing in great draughts of it, “LIVE TREES SMELL SOOOOO GOOD.” His family of four eats in shifts, and in front of the television. These few things, and a few more, opened a door into this kid that I hadn’t expected to dip my head into. As a result, I am left with a tender maternal spot for him, and an understanding of this quiet and sweet boy with the shy smile. I like him, and I hope this Christmas is one he holds somewhere in his middle for the coming years; I hope it warms and delights him. Is that hoping for too very much??

::: :: ::: :: ::: :: :::


creme de la cookie
:: photos don’t do them justice, y’all ::


the yearly ritual
:: three-fifths of this year’s Cookie Crew ::


they get tickled, these boys
:: there is nothing on Earth so entertaining as teenage boys ::


scout is sometimes an angel still
:: she’s just so effortlessly beautiful ::


two-gun sam
:: it’s all in the approach ::


so happy.
:: random moment of happy ::


cornholio visited!
:: what, you don’t have your own private cornholio?? ::


masterpieces!
:: there is more satisfaction here than meets the eye ::


The joy of cooking.
:: these things count ::

 
|| December 23, 2006 || 12:45 am || Comments (0) ||

Ho. And ho again.

Me and Tess, clarifying who goes on what list.

Clarification....

Later in the day she said a swear word in front of a patient and had to turn her hat around to the ‘naughty’ side, as well. C’est la vie!

 
|| December 22, 2006 || 9:27 pm || Comments (1) ||

Well ho ho ho.

Sam’s been puking for about four hours now, every hour on the hour.

I usually prefer to fuss over a sick youngun and not at him. However, I cannot seem to get through Samuel’s fourteen-year-old enfeebled skull the fact that if he doesn’t stay upstairs in the confines of his room –rather than trailing all over the damned house and hurking in every single handy receptacle– he will make the whole(!) stinking(!) family(!) sick for Christmas.

I caught him on the telephone about thirty minutes ago moaning in nausea and agony to his best friend. Please allow me to remind the lot of you that we are a three-teenager household. The most overworked appliance in this home is the phone. Phones, as you may or may not know, are a very excellent breeding ground for sickstomach germs.

I have a fancypants-let’s-all-wear-our-jammies-and-
drink-lotsa-mimosas-while-being-charming-and-cute brunch to serve to about twenty people on Christmas day. I will kill Sam dead if he pokes one toe downstairs again before he is completely well. Dead.

 
|| December 21, 2006 || 12:36 am || Comments (1) ||

overheard

While on the phone with my mobile carrier a moment ago, I heard a female voice wail in the background, “Ohhhh, there’s no Snickers in herrrrre!”

I fell into gales of laughter, whereupon my helpful rep (Tiburcio! Hello, guy!) explained that “Ahm, that’s actually a supervisor from the other side. My supervisor is never without Snickers: She has a huge jar of them on her desk.”

Defending your boss against supposition of Snickers Bar unpreparedness is the mark of a good and loyal employee. Would that we could all have our honor defended so well.