Purple Rain..

A decidedly 'unglamorous" weekend for me, as evidenced in the picture. After a fun Friday night including dinner at J.Baldwin where I chanced upon some of my 'gym buds" (Mr. Bill and Kathy rock!) and then to Luciano's for nightcaps, it was all work. All day Saturday and all day Sunday was spent painting my foyer. It's now a lovely shade called 'sapphire' and looks good to go, say, if Prince wants to do a sleepover anytime soon. (I wish!)

Now brings to mind a story that makes me smile. I get my love of painting honest. As a child, my Mom painted our house so often that people used to kid my Dad about losing square footage to paint depth. It would start something like this. Mom would glance around and inevitably say, "Gee, bet this living room would good just one shade darker." Dad would then inevitable say, "looks fine to me and didn't you just do it 6 months ago?" End of subject. Us kids would exchange knowing glances. The next day a secret trip would be made to the local hardware by my Mom with her three little accomplices in tow. All necessary supplies would be procured and we would take the 'zip it' oath. See, my Dad wasn't some kind of control freak or tyrant about painting, but my Mom just happened to like to paint and derived the same freakish pleasure from it that I do today. Dad didn't REALLY mind as long as he didn't have to be involved. And we all know that he didn't REALLY need to know everything anyway--what man does?

Then, the next day at 7:40 when my Dad was still backing out of the driveway on his way to work, the fun began. The 'pajama brigade' would be summoned for service. "Hurry kids, help me push this furniture to the middle of the room." We would shove and arrange till everything was in place. Our job done, we were free to breakfast and get on with our day. Meanwhile, Mom furiously rolled on the first coat and then made us our lunch. Dinner would also be started. Shortly afterward the first coat would be dry enough for her to proceed with round two. By late afternoon we were called again to do our duty--this time in reverse. The room would look great but definitely smell of fresh paint.

At 5:15 my poor, unsuspecting Dad would roll in all tired from work. The house would reek of garlic as Mom was sure to have prepared the most garlicky lasagna and bread known to man. "Man, it smells good in here," Dad would remark as Mom handed him a nice, big Manhattan. The three musketeers would again exchange conspiratorial glances. Tucking into dinner, my Dad would ask my Mom what she had did that day. And of course she would say "nuthin' special." We would collapse in fits of giggles. Dad would give us a chance to say clever things like, "we played in the living room" or "just moved some stuff around" etc. Mom would pop an eyebrow at the comedians and say, "just get to your supper, kids."

Afterwards, Dad would retire to the room in question with the Alpena Snoozepaper and a fresh Manhattan. Sniffing the air suspiciously, He would settle in to relax. We would hang around just to see if he would notice anything. Bored quickly of waiting, we would head outside to play. And Mom would have pulled off another painting coup.

XOXO to my family.

Head over Feet....

Here it is friends, my first attempt at fiction AND paragraphs. (Thanks, WM!) Please read and let me know what you think. I had a good time and plan to develop Annie more. OK, inhale. Now go.***********************************************************************************

*****Annie will be the first to tell you--she has nice feet. They are probably her best feature. Everybody thinks so. No callouses or bunions to be found. Growing up on a beach and daily walks in the sand pretty much took care of that. Athletic and serviceable, but at the same time fragile. All her life, people have commented on her smallish feet with the cute toes. "Barbie feet with nice arches," they would say.

*****It has been marveled that her big toe is a perfect shape and the other 4 line up in order according to size. Little soldiers in a row. None of that second toe being longer than the big toe, because everybody knows that's just, well, 'country.' Because of this attention, she spends hours grooming her feet and caring for the nails. And only the exact shade of raspberry polish will do--even though the nails naturally looked like little shells. She went barefoot or wore sandals from April to October just to show them off. And in the summer her feet would turn a delicious shade of cinnamon making the effect even more striking.

*****One time a cute lifeguard commented on the perfection of those feet--some of the prettiest he'd ever seen--causing her blushing pride, but hardly the first thing she expected to be noticed as she there in her new bikini. And another time, a guy at McDonald's said her toes looked good enough to eat. Very creepy, but very true. "I know," she shrugged. Years later boyfriends would indulge her with long foot massages and marvel over her toes and even later a husband would give her a very generous allowance to get pedicures and buy shoes that show them off.

*****She would have liked to have been noticed for something else, say, lustrous locks or caustic wit. But at least for now she's got the feet. Head over feet...or in Annie's case, feet over head. *****xoxo P.S. Have tried to post twice and my paragraphs just won't 'work'! Forgive me while I learn. xo

Up for the Down Stroke.......

It's been a whole year since I have joined this crazycool blogosphere. So, Happy Anniversary to me! 57 posts later and I still look forward to saying my peace. What a cool experience, excavating family memories as well as current lore. Can lore be current? This is me patting myself on the back and celebrating my little feat. I've even gone so far as an acceptance speech. (Clearing of the throat). Thanks to the ever lovely Michelle (Michelle's Spell) for encouragement and support in the early conception. You rock, Babe. Special thanks in addition to Michelle, to The Walking Man who takes me on walks that are on different paths than the one I am used to. To JR's Thumbprints who makes me laugh in the most bizarro of his situations. To Eric of Eric's Choice for helping me become more politically aware--not an easy task for anyone. To Charles of Razored Zen for making science fiction seem like a mysterious wonder to read about. To Steve, Rose and Gary, my homeys who are always there for me. And to all of you readers and commenter's(!) for your wonderful validation. I cherish all of you--even those of you who are too shy to comment, but call or email me. I have always loved to talk and tell stories, so this is the perfect little forum to let it all out. (Wipe away tiny tears.) Cue the loud music and cut to commercial break. Okay! Now I am working on a new idea--wait for it--a drum roll please--writing fiction! Or at least trying. Y'all have to tell me if a person who has had a happy childhood, no drug or alcohol problems, mental health under control (mostly), loves her family and has lived without any real tragedy and no dark side, can conjure up some kind of interest, worthy of putting into words. Haven't had a writing class since High School, and while I loved the class at the time, I don't seem to remember much of what they tried to teach me. I do, however, recall the cute guy who sat in front of me and how he always smelled like baby powder. Also running into Mr. Jason (my teacher) at a local watering hole, being told I could now call him, "Tom" and then having cocktails and pontificating on --oh, who the hell knows what. I currently have a retired English teacher friend at my gym that has given me some basic ideas on how to start, and I am looking forward to you all critiquing and advising me. I feel so privileged to be privy to the wonderful things I have read by all of you. So much wisdom, and I hope I can absorb just a little of it thru osmosis or something. Can only hope it turns into a creative journey that will be fun and enlightening (can I get any cornier?) and if that's not the lesson, so what? Enjoy the sunshine--it may be fleeting. xoxo P.S Happy Birthday to my Grandma Iola who turns 95 on Valentines Day. Miss you and love you, Gramma. xoxo

Afternoons and Coffeespoons.....

It's the cold, quiet time of year that I sometime look forward to when the heat and parties of the summer wear me out. Now, not an extra moment is spent outside (no yard work!) and the routine of starting my car early is firmly in place--and Ruby Dee's auto start makes that easy. The fireplace is on 12 hours a day providing much to the lazy atmosphere, and even the pets are piled up there, lounging about. My list of winter home projects has been largely untouched with the paint samples sitting awaiting decision. I am wearing the coziest clothes and socks available. Dark chocolate brownies provide the perfect aroma. (I baked!) (and ate!) Caught a great documentary called "Running the Sahara" and in a rare burst of energy, was inspiration for me to go slogging thru 3 miles on my treadmill. Learned quickly I'd never make it in the Sahara--running or otherwise. Looking forward to having lunch tomorrow with a favorite cousin that I never see, although she lives just around the way. Am into an intriguing new book. So why do I feel like I should be "doing" something? Hmmmm. Let me think on that one. I have always wanted to take a martial arts class, but nah, my boxing class is close enough. Tap dancing and voice lessons are on the back of my mind, but that would take effort, commitment and PRACTICE. I should organize my ipod and closet for that matter, but hey, maybe next week when I have more time. Maybe. I have some pics that need framing, but I'll wait for the 40% off coupons to appear. Oh, hey! Now, this is good. In a moment of ambition, I rounded up all old gold jewelry items no longer worn and collected a cool $1,400.00 from my girl Kara, at Atlas Jewelers. Quite the modern day pirate wench, I yam! AND, she even hooked me up with some new bling to boot. Whoo Hoo! But I digress. No sense in redoing the office till after I pillage it for tax info. I even blew off a weekend skiing trip, cuz it's cold and I gotta pack and it's a such a long drive.... Now how lazy can I be not to go on a weekend getaway? Not sure I want to "get away". Get away from what? Instead, I took a page out of Lola's book and decided to just catch a snooze. We plan to join friends, Tom and Kara to watch the Superbowl. Not really a football fan but the lure of friends, beer, and pizza will be entertainment enough for my lazy butt. I was a cheerleader for 3 years in high school and barely learned the difference between "hold that line" and "push 'em back", much to my Dad's coaching and chagrin. Guess I was always paying attention to other things. Hope nobody minds if I read the new book during the game. Maybe I'll even be able to stay awake... But that would take effort and commitment... Enjoy the game or whatever works for you. xoxo