I Feel Lucky...

Happy Birthday (yesterday) to my lovely Mom.  At 75 years young, she can still kick ass and take names.  Mom has more energy and gets done more with her day by 9:00 a.m. than I can manage all day.  She works out and walks regularly keeping herself is great shape.  I loved it when I lived two doors away and could drop by anytime for her wonderful cookies and homemade bread.  We can count on her for anything and I can only aspire to be more like her.  See you on Wednesday night, when we can celebrate your birthday and Thanksgiving as well.  xo

Happy Thanksgiving everyone.  It is my favorite holiday, only second to July 04.  We will all be together at my sister and brother-in-law's for a day of feasting and football.  They are fabulous cooks and I don't mind being kicked out of the kitchen.   I'm sure some of our thoughts will be of my Dad, as we celebrate the holiday without him.  Nobody loved to eat more than him and he was a pro at the turkey carving.  And he always left room for pie.

I have plenty to be thankful for, on Thursday and on everyday.  I have been blessed with all the best things life can give.  Love, family, friends, contentment and security are things that I will try to never take for granted.  These things, plus turkey dinner and a glass or two of vino will surely keep me sated for another year.

Enjoy the holiday.  I'm thankful for you all. xo

Hit 'em up Style...(oops!)

Can I admit to totally having a girl crush on D.I.Y.'s  Rehab Addict, Nicole Curtis?  Totally.  Oh, yeah, she's my kinda girl.  Originally from the Detroit area, now living in Minneapolis, Nicole buys and restores old houses to their former glory.  The show follows her through all phases from purchase to sale.  I admire all the tools she can run and the projects she tackles, all while sporting rockin' boots and cool 'Detroit' gear.  As I demo'ed my bathroom this past week, I had to wonder WWNCD? 

 In my own personal reality show, my bathroom was coming along nicely.  But this rehab addict needed a break.  Numerous trips to Lowe's and endless Amazon shopping for fixtures had me beat.  Tired of running up and down a ladder and inhaling drywall dust, a hot bath and a good book sounded perfect.  I was just scraping the primer off my elbows and gel stain off my fingernails, when the 'call of duty' came.  Girlfriends want to party!   Now this project demands some real action.  Buck up little soldier!  Faster than you can say 'chrystal chandelier', I snapped that ladder shut and gave myself a little makeover.  You think that was easy?  Oh hells no, probably the biggest challenge of the day!

A little glamorous chicky confab and a few cocktails later, I was as good as new.  And a few jello shots didn't hurt the cause any either.  Laughing, catching up, and a pic or two with my beauties, was the perfect ending to the week of very unglamorous bathroom hell.  Girl time can do that.

Later at home, I looked in on my half done bathroom and smiled.  And as I kicked off my boots, and ditched my hat, I knew I'd be back on that ladder again tomorrow. 

Nicole Curtis would be proud.  xo

Diva...

DISCLAIMER!!!!  (To completely understand this post, you may have to harken back to my Oct. 31, 2010 post called 'Say it Loud, I'm Black and I'm Proud.'  I fully realize that I am an idiot that gets overly attached to and even name my Mustangs.)  Please indulge and bear with me.  I thank you in advance. xo

My affair is over.  I knew from the moment I saw him 3 years ago, I had to have him and there was no turning back.  I adored his sexy, sleek look and fast temperament. That mustang had a body like Arnold with a Denzel face!  For three torrid years, Denzel Washington and I carried on like no one was watching.  Our tryst took us to the Keys for the winter and, recently to a quick getaway to Canada.  I loved his black, badass self.  And, Lord help me-he was as smooth as silk. 

Our parting was a mutual thing, (okay, the lease was up!) and we will always remember the good times. We bonded one last time over a drink, (gas) and a bath together (the car wash).  It was bittersweet but oh so fun while it lasted.  But I'm really not the cheatin' type and Denzel is free to make someone else feel special. xo

I made a new 'buddy' on Friday that is helping me move on.  'Sasha Fierce' is a hot little thing with a cool attitude.   She is a racy little diva that promises to keep me on the straight and narrow. With her platinum good looks and hot accessories-we are going to PAAARRTAAYY! 

And, again, I thank you all for enduring my craziness.  xoxoxo

Wake me Up...

 

It was an initiation to 'Hatteras life' that forced me into trolling around the docks in pirate garb weeks ahead of Halloween.  I think I passed the test.

This week we are being forced to adjust to 'daylight saving time'.  On Saturday night-in case you are not familiar-we turned our clocks back one hour.  I admit to being totally confounded as to the reason this makes sense.  I did love getting one extra hour of sleep, but I feel like it takes me a good week or so to truly adjust.  I do not like changing all the clocks in the house and have even been known to just leave 'em till spring when they right themselves.

  I woke up Sunday morning confused-even more than usual-and had to check my iPhone to clarify the true time.  I remember as kids, being late for church (oh darn!) without any technology to help us out.  We would try to stifle our glee at least until my Mom pulled out of the parking lot, her with a furrowed brow and us planning what to do with our unanticipated bonus hour.

  I realize we are supposed to be saving energy, but I really don't see how.  I seem to have the lights and telly on even more as I have trouble go to sleep but then curiously waking up an hour earlier.  Our waking hours will still be filled with the activities we were doing before the change.  Are we saving energy really, or just going along with an outdated plan?  I hated going to school in the dark and it just seems more dangerous than ever to send children walking or meeting a bus.  Maybe it's just another was of giving us winter worn Michiganders something else to look forward to when we can finally 'spring forward'. 

 Should this practice be done away with or do we have to keep doing it just because we always have?  Let me know what you think.. Happy November!  xo 

Magic and Loss...

R.I.P Lou Reed.  I have to admit to being a late comer to his music.   Growing up in northern Michigan with one f.m. radio station, severely limited my exposure.  Later on his distinctive voice and style made it easy to recognize his music.  I actually read more about his life in bits and pieces as much as listening to him.  I have always been curious about 'all things New York' (plan to visit the city soon!) and Lou's face and style seem to typify that feeling.  He was cooler than cool.  I am surprised that he lived as long as he did given his crazy lifestyle-and surviving a liver transplant.

 

So how is it that at my age, with relative good health, am I such a wuss?  Saturday night, dressed up in skunk costume and my comrade trussed up in her peacock outfit, hit a friends annual Halloween bash.  Never disappointed, the party had many characters, wonderful food, and the most awesome decorations ever.  The 'punch' was flowing and a good time was had by all. 

 

Why, then, at 12:30 am I hedging for the door?  Yawning even.  Now this is getting ridiculous.  We had plans for an early tailgating party before the Lions game on Sunday, and I knew I would be dragging ass if I didn't get some sleep.  Soon.   So like a skunky Cinderella, I hauled my cookies home to go to bed.  Lame, I know, but I just can't seem to cut it anymore!

 

 Sunday morning came too soon, and I groaned as I got up and got into gear for the next round of festivities.  The invite only party found me charging to the bar for a quick screwdriver in hopes of a wake up and attitude adjustment.  The nice chef made my omelet custom ordered and to perfection.  More screwdrivers came next.  Me and my gang trudged down to Ford Field with anticipation and hope.  Anticipation of a long game and hope that we could cut out early. 

 

With one minute left on the clock, us chickie's persuaded the guys to leave (finally!) early.  And don't you just know it, our team pulled off whatever they needed to do to come from behind and win the game.  I was too tired to barely care.  I was exhausted and the couch was calling my name.

 

Late night and early mornings just don't work for me anymore.  I have seriously fell into the routine of a Florida retiree-party time starts and four and ends at 10, not the other way around!!

 

So much for my 'Walk on the Wild Side'.   xo

 

 

Escapade...

This past week I was lucky enough to experience a visit to a place I've always been curious about.  Everywhere I vacation, I seem to leave a piece of my heart-and this trip was no different.  Cape Hatteras National Seashore has always held intrigue for me.  I have always been attracted to the ocean, particularly it's shoreline.  It's a place sort of like my precious Keys, but sort of not.  Incredible beauty, fresh seafood, world class fishing and a laid back attitude are the commonalities in the two places.  The biggest difference is the beaches. The Keys are built on coral islands with very little actual beach.  But,  holy crow, the most beautiful beaches I have ever seen were outside my door.  Miles and miles of wide, white sand beaches.  I spent hours strolling, picking shells, petting dogs and talking with other beach freaks.  It was a blast to see the shore fisherman with their totally rigged vehicles and they were happy to share their techniques with me.  I was advised where to find the most sand dollars and sea glass.  The slow, lazy pace is totally how I roll and I can't help but love the southern manners and drawl.  In fact, a few more days there and I would have picked up a little accent of my own.

 

  As I re-enter normalcy, washing the sand from my clothes,  I can't help but daydream about that gorgeous place.  Lola, who I usually never leave, is sprung from the boarding kennel and is not too much worse for the wear.  She's crabby, but I'm sure she will forgive me in time. If you ever get the hankerin' to hang out in simply one of the most beautiful shores ever, than do not hesitate to visit Cape Hatteras, it's lovely ocean beaches are waiting.

 

Enjoy your week and thanks for indulging my little travelogue.  I am grateful for you and all the beautiful aspects of my life.  xo   P.S. forgive my lack of paragraphs today, (Mark!), blogger is not co-operating!

 

 

Only the Good Die Young...

My friend of 40 years is gone.  Warren passed away suddenly and has left us all with the huge task of moving on in a world without him.  We are from the same small town and our relationship was rich with common friends and old stories.  The hole in my heart is large and very jagged, and he pops up in my thoughts constantly.  I hope by writing this, I can get on with some healing.

Warren was a one of a kind-a free spirit in every way-living life on his terms.  Warren took chances and did things that most of us just dream about.  He rode his motorcycle with the wind in his hair and was never afraid to explore new places and meet new people.  And once you met him, you would never forget him.  His blue eyes and slow smile lit up every room he ever walked into.  You had to lean in to hear his soft voice, but it was always worth it.  An old soul and a modern day hippie, Warren was famous for saying, "right on". 

You could count on him for anything-just ask my brother, his long time best friend.  He was a man of simple needs and great talent.  He could build a house from the bottom up and everything in between.  He was known for his hugs-he'd bend down and I would get on tiptoe to make up the difference in our heights.  Warren used to say that he was 'freakishly tall'.  And he was!  Back in the day, he could talk me into dancing non stop for hours. 

  He was a founding member of our annual "Sloth, Indulgence and Debauchery Tour" for the past 12 years while on vacation in the Keys.  Memories of our antics will have to sustain us this year, as we somehow carry on without him.  He could crack my back better than any chiro ever has!!  Warren was a lover of all things in nature.  As kids we hung out at the beach,  picked wild strawberries and mushrooms, and snuck alcohol.  Warren was an amazing chef and could whip up the best pancakes and shrimp fettuccine alfredo ever.  He cooked simply and with love, and when he cooked, I would gladly clean up. He spoiled us all with his yummy delights.

He knew the words to every song you can imagine.  I'll never again hear the song, 'Cripple Creek' without remembering me and Warren, half tuned up, belting it out.  It was one of the many little traditions we had that made our friendship special.

  I'll look for him around every corner of Key West and smile as He lives on in the stars and warm breeze.   I'll toast his memory with love.

Till we meet again, good friend.  Right on.   xo