Cuttin’ to the chase, gettin’ right to it: down (and out!) with Snuggie. That As Seen On TV blanket with arms? Am more than a little hostile towards this product. Can’t figure why with any sense of rational, it’s merely a fact to be accepted like breathing. Like a mother’s love for her child, my loathe of Snuggie. I want it gone. Finito. Zee end. They’re as bad as flannel nightgowns. Weezer’s been forgiven.
Pulled an all-nighter with a friend in creating many a sign based on the design she’d chosen for her son’s first birthday. As day broke, I was off to bed while she was off to prep for the party. What moms (and their sucker-for-an-art-project-friends) won’t do for their munchkins! We joked how he won’t even remember it. Luckily, everyone else will.
Take my chicken situation, please take it. Some time back, caught a segment on a late night talk show where the comedian shared a bit about his apparent speech impediment. One goes to say one thing and out comes something altogether else. Somethin’ like dyslexia with a dash of Freudian slip. He’d meant to order a chicken sandwich at a restaurant and instead ordered a “chicken situation”. Me! Am so afflicted by such a situation as well! Last week, my dad’s dinner, his “burgle toppered over”, I adjusted the blake fruid, and as always, I love Yew Nork.
In further chicken situations, somebody’s missin’ a leg.
That there guy sunning himself au naturale was an unappetizing addition to a picnic lunch several years back now. Uploaded the photo on Flickr entitling it simply, “Sightseeing: a nude dude”. Now, hundreds of photos later which photo has received far too many views? The dude in nude. Artistic merit, not a smidge. Lovely composition, nope. Any interest offered up other than the word “nude,” nada. Nude. Dude!
In clothed activity, am finding yoga to be absotively posolutely amazing! I did not know. Sure, had heard the cliche raves in the occasional book-slash-movie-slash-television show over the years, but never thought I’d be drinking the Kool-aid! It’s part of the workout I’ve currently adopted and it was with great boo and hoo I greeted the first morning. Fifteen plus minutes in and I was still just as unthrilled to find a tedious routine of repetition, and what with all the dogs, warriors, and suns involved, I really felt like showing them the moon. A short while later, though, something happened. Along with a slow build to the always glorious endorphin rush, I found a profound place. In striving to maintain a little grace and balance in switching from one pose to another, a sense of calm within the storm settled in, in holding perfectly still for moments at a time. Yet there’s a veritable storm of strength brewing up, down, and all within the body to keep, hold, and maintain those moments of calm. Muscles begin to quiver and a respect for the strength required to hold steady develops. It’s a life lesson right there, the balance and fortitude required. The only frequent problem remains my tendency to laugh far too much. Laughing zaps me of all strength in the moment rendering me temporarily useless. It all stems from the tendency to generally be a smiling fool, and when stuck in some of those positions? The smiles come quick.
Behold, the porch kitties! Both super fluffy with plumes for tails and eyes the shade of honey. One charcoal grey in color and donning a sparkly lime-ish green collar complete with a matching green bo-bo bell while the other, coal black, donned an equally sparkly light bright blue collar with bell and white paws, the front two patterned like one sock’s up and one sock’s down. Not sure of their place of residence nor their names, but it was apparent they were loved and cared for. For the latter part of August and all of September last, the kitties were to be found lazing about on our porch and none other. Soon felt the need to call them something- Charlie and Chaplin, Sherlock and Holmes- finally settling on the humdrum yet ever verbally satisfying- Bo-Bo kitties! Bo-Bo kitty II (coal) took to accompanying me to my car each day. Down three flights of stairs, across the courtyard and then up another flight to the sidewalk and road beyond as though Bo-Bo kitty thought himself of a canine breed. Most unusual! In the past year’s venture into kittydom, Bean one day stopped short, stared down at the cat at my feet, back up at me, and promptly asked, “Who ARE you?” Sometimes, it’s good to find a new love for the once hated. ♦