When Size Does and Doesn’t Matter

Large/Small. Fat/Thin. Ecstatic/Not so much. There are circumstances when size is mas importante, there are times when it matters not.

Size Matters

  • Size of bank account when paying bills.
  • Size of shoes – stuffing a size 8 into a size 7 and hobbling around = OUCH!
  • Size of the sky – city dwellers have a reduced view; if you look at the night sky anywhere in far West Texas, the stars begin at the ground and are so profuse, the sky part is minimal. This would be good for the soul. And beyond beautiful.
  • Size of airline seats – unless you are 11 years old, a long flight in steerage  the cheap seats can propel you right into a hip replacement. Practicing fetal position before boarding helps a bit. Plus, I think the airlines should put labels on the arm rests; even though they are as big as a clothes pin, which one belongs to which seat? Really! First-class and business travelers, feel our pain! Not really, you paid not to. Trade seats?
  • Size of parking spots – please don’t park a honking land yacht in a space marked “Compact Cars”. There is nothing compact about a Suburban or a Monster Truck. Except maybe the ashtray and I don’t think they make those anymore.
  • Size of heart, spiritually speaking – can it ever be big enough? Methinks not.
  • Size of smile – a big one goes a long way.

Size Doesn’t Matter (to me)

  • Size of your bank account – not my business. Keeping eyes on own paper.
  • Size of clothing – numbers make me crazy; if it fits, wear it; if not, give it away. Sizes seem to make a lot of people feel bad about themselves. Just stupid numbers, people!
  • Size of shelter – matters not a whit.Protection from the elements.What does matter is making that shelter a home. Favorite quote: “People who are homeless are not social inadequates. They are people without a home.” I think home can be wherever you are.

Mushing.

See ya.

Later.

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Booking It

Better get these on the books before I get bored and start … handfishing with hillbillies. Not really. I don’t hang with hillbillies. And my relationship with fish involves cooking and a fork. But I digress …

Just read, am reading, will read:

  • The Other Tudors, Henry VIII’s Mistresses and Bastards by Philippa Jones. My obsession with all things Henry continues. Jones was/is a historian, and a good one at that. Each page is so full of information, I might finish when I’m 75, but this is a good book.
  • An Available Man by Hilma Wolitzer. The story of a 62-year-old widower thrust back into the world of women. Not a snore. This is a  good read and full of surprises. Brava, Hilma!
  • Behind the Beautiful Forevers by Katherine Boo. At my bedside, ready to read next. Great reviews for this “jaw-dropping” portrait of modern India.
  • Rules of Civility by Amor Towles. Stylish portrait of the higher life in 1930s New York. Still reading … really like the narrator but the lifestyle makes me want to go to AA and the characters make me sad.
  • The House at Tyneford by Natasha Solomons 
  • Gone With A Handsomer Man by Michael Lee West. Have always been a huge MLW fan; this would be my least favorite of all her book. Whining.
  • Rules for Virgins by Amy Tan. This one is a Kindle Single – a 40-page story that may or may not be part of future book. Shanghai. 1912. Former courtesan advising aspiring one. Fascinating.

Later.

Plastic Surgeon FREAKED Me Out

I went to see the best plastic surgeon in town … on a lark. If you had access to my bank statements, you’d know it was a lark. I’m a cat, curious and skittish. But more curious. And I wanted to see what this man would say to me. He’s known for “Sleeping Beauties”, performing facial surgery on women who, when recovered, look like they’ve had the best rest ever. And they don’t have those crazy Jack Nicholson eyebrows – the first tipoff that somebody’s been under the knife.

Made a consultation appointment and appeared at the correct time. After very little paperwork, I was ushered into surgeon’s office. He was nice. But he’s in his seventies and had no grey hair and very few wrinkles. Oh yeah, he’s a plastic surgeon. And here’s how it went:

Doc: “What are you here for?”

Me: “Well, you have an excellent reputation and I’ve admired your work. Am not loving the fine lines around my mouth and wanted to know what you would do?” (Why does he keep putting his left hand under his desk?)

Doc: “Well, you have a long neck so I would do a neck somethingorother and then a midline facelift. You don’t need body work.” (How would you know? I’m fully clothed sitting across the desk from you.)

Me: “My neck? Facelift? Draw me a picture.” (And stop putting your hand under the desk)

He proceeded to draw the scariest picture of the side of a head with stitches and scars everywhere. Enough!

Me: “That looks terrifying, not to mention the recovery would be heinous.”

Doc: “I’ll throw in the upper eyelids for $1000.”

Me: “Upper eyelids … I don’t even wear mascara. What? Forget the eyes, how much for the stuff you suggested?”

Doc: “blablablablablabla”.

Me: “So you’re talking $20,000 walking? Are you f-ing kidding me? No offense, and I realize it’s your job, but ARE YOU KIDDING ME?”

Doc: “No, and you’ll probably need tweaking in about eight years. Show me your stomach.”

Like a moron, I pulled up my shirt and showed him my stomach. What in the living hell did a midline facelift+ have to do with my stomach? I must be on Candid Camera.

Me: “Thank you for your time. You’ve confirmed my intention to age gracefully = no knives near me unless eating. But good luck – for every one of me, there’s ten you”ll “fix”. Yeah, you!”

And for the record, Dr. Demento, keep your hands where I can see’em AND hahaha, my stomach is none of your business, surgically speaking.

Oh, and if I decide to take him up on his offer in the next year, my consultation fee will be deducted from the 20K. I have happily eaten $75 with my own knife and fork.

Later.

*Unlike Nora Ephron, I feel great about my neck!

Blame it on Eve

I’m talking about clothing. While I wouldn’t call Eve a style icon, her curiosity and that damn apple did present us with the need to “cover up”. Don’t know who decided to make dressing an art form, but God bless him/her/them.

Did you know that any clothing over 20 years old is considered vintage? I didn’t, but am all over vintage clothing for a number of reasons. First and foremost …..

My Grandmother

My grandmother was born with style. I think this photo is 1930’s but her outfit looks like Norma Kamali was around at that time. Luckily, I have some of my grandmother’s jackets and other accoutrement which I wear frequently. Because it was so well made and way cool. I LOVE vintage clothing. The fabrics, the craftmanship … oh, I feel a case of the vapors coming on.

Before I take to my fainting couch, I must tell you why I’m double lucky regarding vintage. My city has the very best treasure chest of vintage clothing, shoes, hats, handbags, and other accessories in this hemisphere. IN ONE SPOT! Cheeky Vintage! Just the name makes me swoon.

The owners of Cheeky Vintage, Denise and Tina, are brilliant and have a serious love and eye for vintage perfection. But don’t just take my word for it; Lucky Magazine calls Cheeky one of the country’s best vintage stores. And the positive press goes on and on. Go to cheekyvintage.com to drool.

Chanel, anyone?

Treasure Chest

Just fainted.

Later.

My Issues Have Issues. Really.

I used that line to decline a date request. And I wasn’t lying. My issues for today are … business names, a neighborhood, and knackwurst.

The first issue was prompted by a parking space at a shopping center. Yep, I parked right in front of the Dress Barn. Could this national clothing chain for women have picked a more unbecoming moniker? Methinks NOT. I was prompted to find more professional insanity because I wanted to and I do not use my time wisely.  Here are the names of real business I found; feel free to add your own.

CLOTHING

Girdle Garage

House of Hose

GROOMING

Indiana Bone and the Temple of Groom

American Hairline

Nervous McStabby’s Hair Care Place

Lunatic Fringe

Slingin’ Ink Tattoo

BOOKS

Crapbooks

The Bookie Joint

FLORAL

Florist Gump

The Stalk Market

FOOD

Crazy Cow Steakhouse

OK Chinese Food

Bologna Boutique

Nasty Buffet

LAST BUT NOT LEAST

Master Baiter’s Sportfishing and Tackle

Bada Bing Bail Bonds

Enough. Moving on to a new neighborhood. My eldest, Miss Peach, recently moved into a swishy townhouse with her friends. She invited me to see it right after she moved in. Her place is beautiful, nicer than mine. As she walked me out and down the road to find my car, I surveyed her “hood”. Which prompted one question. “DID YOU KNOW YOU ARE LIVING NEXT DOOR TO A METH LAB?” She said, “Oh!”. End of convo. We are very casual about potential life-threatening situations. Moving on.

Knackwurst. At a recent cocktail situation, I ran into a friend. He’s a great guy and has been promoted to CFFOBPRQ of an enormous company. I forget what we were talking about, but for whatever reason, he called me a “Knackwurst Head“. Knowing only that knackwurst was not complimentary, I did what any self-respecting woman would do and emptied the contents of my hors d’oeuvre plate into his cocktail. I mean, really! A knackwurst, for those of you who don’t know, is a short, plump, highly seasoned German sausage. I am NOT a Knackwurst Head, you MOLDY PIECE OF HOG’S HEAD CHEESE!

Feeling better already! Gotta run, late for appointment at Sweaty Betty’s Beat & Tease.

Be happy or go to your room. Your choice.

Later.

I Don’t Drink Outside My Zip Code

Isn’t that the best line ever? My friend, Demona, threw that down when we were discussing where to have dinner.

Topics for today include: Books, Movies, and Finds. Off we go:

Loving the WordFoto App

Books and Movies

One of the books I recently read was The Paris Wife by Paula McLain. Historical fiction about Ernest Hemingway and his first wife, Hadley. I’ve read everything about F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald during that crazy time; it was nice to get a different perspective. And I’m damn glad I did because …. two weeks later, I saw Woody Allen’s Midnight in Paris. Had I not read that book, I wouldn’t have “gotten” all the nuances in the movie.  Book – good; Movie – not so much. I’ve also read Maine by J. Courtney Sullivan; really liked it until last chapter. Next up: The Man in the Rockefeller Suit by Mark Seal, Joy for Beginners by Erica Bauermeister, and Wait for Me! Memoirs by Deborah Mitford, Duchess of Devonshire.

Finds

If you are anywhere near Oxford, Mississippi, do stop by Bottletree Bakery. Everything in that place looks delicious; everything I managed to cram in my mouth was delicious. Find yourself in Houston? Head right over to ….

Yum!

I swear, Relish has the very best Blueberry Cookie I’ve ever eaten. The hummus is amazing as well.

On the shoe front, a group of us stumbled upon the most comfortable sandals in the entire world in Charleston, S.C. The Charleston Shoe Co. and sister store, Savannah Shoe Co., sell these babies in an abundance of styles. Because they use a bunch of elastic and rubber soles, I could wear them every day. And, one of the sales women told me they can go in the washing machine. Won’t happen at my house because I am on a laundry strike, but you can do whatever you want.

Can't help myself

*It has been said you cannot stick your tongue out and look at the ceiling simultaneously (tendons say “no”).

You just tried it AND you can do it.

I know, because I did.

Idiots all.

Later.

If Your Life Was …

The sky's the limit!

Hola!

Thumbing through The Awe-Manac by Jill Badonsky, I came upon a question she posed that has intrigued as well as baffled me. I’ve yet to come up with an answer – so I’d like to know yours …. let your imagination go wild, no borders.

If your life was a box of Cracker Jacks, what would the prize be inside?”

Do tell. I’m all ears eyes!

Later. Tomorrow.

Crazy stuff.