Jump on this roller coaster
I was having a rather ordinary dream, something to do with being outside, walking. I passed two men who were talking and who didn't notice me. One had a dog with one of those white cone collars on it and I overheard him say to the other man, "She bit him with a chockle-chuck." The weirdness of the phrase woke me up.
The tree is trimmed...
The halls are decked...
And the stockings are hung on the mantle.
After enjoying a dinner of Thanksgiving leftovers, we noticed that it had started to snow. The first snow! Then, turning around the channels we found that "White Christmas" was on, so we watched that while lying on the bed still keeping one eye on the snow outside.
Because I'm fat, sated and lazy after the feast, I'm answering a meme I got from Kelly, who didn't specifically tag me but rather tossed out an open invitation. It's "Eight Things" of various sorts...
There is a man I know who lives in California. He detests computers and has never had an email address. He's one of the sweetest people you'd ever want to meet and is incredibly spiritual, basically an old hippie, now 70 years of age. He somehow glommed onto me and now he calls me every single day of the week. And he'll talk on and on for one or two hours. The same things over and over again. And he's growing increasingly demanding. He asked me to build him a website to sell a CD he made, and I agreed and charged him a nominal fee. VERY nominal. Like, RIDICULOUSLY nominal. Nearly FREE...
Excuse my French, but, my so-called life! When it rains, it pours. It's either feast or famine with me. Just when I was about to give up the ghost because I was suddenly struck as poor as a church mouse and began beating the pavement to get a real job, I was hit up-side the head with a mountain of work. I've been as busy as a one-armed paperhanger with a number of paying jobs, for which I'm jumping for joy. Most of these have to do with web design, but one is musical, although I haven't had the time of day to dedicate myself to it. I spent the weekend working at a feverish pace on one site and I've burned the candle at both ends, setting in as soon as my feet hit the floor and working into the wee hours, say, 4:30am. Yesterday, I got out of the wrong side of the bed and was really grumpy because the phone rang off the hook all day. You all know how I love the phone...
I can't remember the last time I sat here at my desk with a glass of wine, in the mood to blog. I've been going to bed earlier lately, and if I am at a computer at night, it's usually my laptop because I can surf both the web and the TV channels at the same time. Lazy sod...
I've complained for nearly three years about the ongoing road construction by our house. They're now getting close to the end, I think, because they're paving it. That sounds nice, but the noise that has been invading our lives for the past week is finally driving me nuts.
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| Damn. Wish I hadn't cut up this pic. Before, you could see the Doobies standing off to the left. How could I know they were going to be famous?? |
It might not be a big deal to some people, but it's one for me. Today, I'm doing something I've always wanted to do: I'm sitting in a cafe, drinking a cappuccino and writing this on my laptop (no, that picture isn't mine. I left my camera at home). While out doing some "special shopping", I decided to duck into the Hardback Cafe and fulfill a tiny ambition of mine. If I had access to the car in the day times (and a little more spending loot), I'd do this at least once a week.
~ I was wakened a little after 8:30 with nausea and a mild backache.
Why do I like this guy? His dishes don't always look that great, I'll probably never use one of his recipes, and he desperately needs a hairdresser. Still, whenever the Food Network runs his series, I watch. Maybe it's because he cooks on the streets and harbors of Mediterranean cities, drawing crowds that he never chases away. Or maybe it's because he doesn't give a damn about presentation and drinks wine while he cooks. Maybe it's because he seems to be suppressing a slightly irascible, alcoholic personality. Whatever it is, I like watching "Floyd on Food", not because of the food, but because of Keith Floyd.
My father (whose family hailed from the St. Wolfgangsee area of Austria) used to tell a little story about a boy named Hans. It seems Hans' father found his son outside every morning digging up piles of manure. Finally, he called out, "Hans! Why do you keep digging that manure every morning?"
A choir made of the Stillwater Honor Choir, Stillwater Junior High School Choir, Stillwater High School Pioneer Chorale and The Stillwater Chamber Choir sing “We are the Music Makers” on Monday evening at the "Oklahoma at 100 Gala Concert" at Stillwater High School’s Performing Arts Center. (That's Nettl, by the way; click to enlarge)
I began working during the summer before my senior year, in 1968. After eight years in factories, department stores, and restaurants, I finally got a job in the financial department of a music company handwriting receipts for mail orders (yes, before computers, we actually used ballpoint pens). I stayed with that company for the next 14 years, moving through the ranks from Girl Friday (terrible term, that) to Financial Secretary to Data Entry, Accounts Receivable to Accounts Payable to Junior Accountant. I sometimes worked second jobs along the way slapping pizzas, pouring cappuccinos and, best of all, as Maestro Salazar's assistant with the symphony and his TA at the college. I was a single parent and did whatever it took...
I shall wear a long wool coat,
...black leather gloves,
...a cashmere scarf,
...and a jaunty fedora.
And when I'm old I shall use a stylish walking stick,
...and carry a flask because one can always use a little fortification against the cold!
I spent the last half of 1971 in an exclusive commune in the Hollywood Hills in a mansion at 3615 Shady Oak Road (view vicinity & inset) that was owned by Peter Tork of the Monkees. This is a famous house in rock & roll history. It had been rented by Stephen Stills during the making of Crosby, Stills & Nash's greatest album, Déjà -Vu (Crosby, Stills & Nash, Dallas Taylor & Neil Young). In fact, there were two rooms off of the pool that had been their rehearsal and recording studios and it was easy to imagine the likes of Joni Mitchell, Judy Collins and the entire Laurel Canyon rock & roll enclave hanging out there...
You die-hards won't read anything I'd like to write about this because you'll be looking for the link, so I'll just give it to you to read for yourself:
Okay, I tried. For the sake of health, all week I've had tea ("Earl Grey, very hot") in the morning instead of coffee. I really love both, but tea just doesn't do it for me when I first wake up. Drinking tea feels more civilized and gentle, but, due to the time I spent in England years ago, I suppose, I think of tea as an afternoon, not morning, drink. I decided to drink tea upon waking because my ulcer started to act up. The other reason was that I heard a woman on telly say that those afternoon naps are due to caffeine let-down. Nevertheless, I'm going back to coffee. It's not because of withdrawals, because I haven't experienced any symptoms (I only drink two cups a day), I just miss the morning clarity. I miss the aroma and the body of coffee. Tea comforts, coffee bolsters, and in the morning I need the latter...
I force myself to believe that recent events are merely birth pangs that are opening the floodgates to the things I have asked of the universe.
