*WWDLRD?

15 Oct

david lee roth blog image

I know it’s wrong to base your life’s philosophy on a Van Halen song but sometimes you just have to jump.

Might as well.

And things turned out okay for David Lee Roth, right?

The thing about jumping is, at some point, you’re going to land.

Now before you yell at me for going to the ER with a broken toe, let me just say that I went to the ER not only because I hurt my toe, but, also, because I have an awesome shoe collection.

And while it is true that I was jumping and demonstrating some old cheerleader moves while wearing someone else’s shoes, it is also true that anyone can walk a mile in a stranger’s shoes.  It takes a warrior to herkey.  (What?  You didn’t know that I was once a cheerleader?  Surely my peppy attitude, unsinkable optimism, and amazing yelling capacity gave it away.)

Go Spouse!  Go!  (I mean it.  Just go.)

So one copay and an X-ray later, here I am.

Getting up while at the same time, having nothing get me down.

And that, my friends, answers the question: *What Would David Lee Roth Do?

 

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How To Name Your Pet

12 Aug

blog image mallorca

I never wanted the stray cat with the chopped off tail to become ours.  Especially since I knew that other neighbors were already calling him “Lucky,” yet those same neighbors refused to address the chopped off bloody tail so, how’s that for irony?

Which brings us to the whole going to the vet issue.

You probably didn’t think that there even was a going to the vet issue but, as someone who has previously found issues with going to the dentist (Tractor Supply-esque music in the waiting room, really?) and late book fines at the Free Public Library, I assure you, going to the vet is a thing too.

Mostly it’s when your pet is summoned and the technician acts as if there is more than one “Lucky” with a chopped tail in the waiting room.  So you offer how you weren’t responsible for naming him, in fact, you’re just here to fix the tail and release him back into the wild to which the vet tech replies that they “hate when animals are named Lucky because, actually, they usually aren’t.”

So in attempt to add some gravitas to the name “Lucky,” (although the producers of “King of the Hill” have certainly helped by having musician Tom Petty voice their character named “Lucky”), I now register the cat with a hyphenated last name that sounds exotic and intriguing.  Like the child of two self-important parents vying for top billing, I insist that the vet call him Lucky Doodles-Majorca.

And should they call out to the waiting room: “Lucky?…Lucky Doodles?”  I won’t respond.  After a noticeable pause, I’ll inquire: “I’m sorry.  Did you mean “Lucky Doodles-Majorca?  With a hyphen?” because a: I can and b: it’s righteous.  And that puffed up, flea-bitten, stump-tailed cat who just drooled a ribbon of spittle through the carrier and onto the floor knows that I’m right and begins to feel a sense of pride and self-worth.  And that’s before he even licks himself.

I picked “Majorca” because that is my go-to run away spot.  If I ever am reported missing, that’s where you’ll find me.  With flights from Newark starting as low as $1128- thanks Expedia!  (I picked “Doodles” because there is no finer snack.)

Which brings me to the point of today’s post: give your pet a moniker that instills pride in the animal and, also, will not embarrass you should you ever have to shout it out.   Names like: “Ernest Hemingway,” “Juan Valdez,” “James Earl Jones” and “Lou Reed” work while neither “Matthew” nor “McConaughey” nor “Matthew McConaughey” do.

If all else fails, go with two puppies and name them “Lennon” and “McCartney.”  If there’s a runt, call him “Ringo.”

You can always opt for the unofficial name of every pet that has ever run into the road: “Jesus Christ!,” “Jesus H. Christ!” or “Jesus H. Christ-Majorca.”  Your call.

PS: he’s been with us for eight years.

From the “Vicarious Traveling” Travelogue

15 Jul

blog imag swedish fish

Friends went to Sweden which means that parts of me also went to Sweden (my mind as well as my inner tall, blonde, multilingual, weirdfish-eating self).

My favorite part of the trip was returning home and attempting to incorporate the concept of “fika” into my life.  “Fika” is a daily Swedish coffee break except coffee is not required and it often lasts for over an hour.  It is time spent socializing, unwinding and having a not insubstantial nosh.  A sort of high tea but with lots more umlauts.  A respite, but with dried fish included- like surströmming or tatami I washi.  (Thank YOU Wikipedia!)

Imagine if employers in the US authorized an afternoon break with food and friends and World Cup bonding and such.  They would be just like the unauthorized breaks we take in the morning now, except those can sometimes feel edgy as people really seem to want coffee with the half and half that was right in the breakroom refrigerator as of 5PM yesterday.

Then imagine a job where folks stand around the water cooler while holding ceramic mugs talking about non work-related things like reality tv, sports or standardized testing and know that I would no longer be working there by now (assuming that I passed the background check).  I like people but I hate prolonged small talk.  Who am I kidding?  I hate chit-chat of any duration.  Even if it means avoiding work.

I do appreciate the spirit of fika though, as I believe that we all need to individually reassess and relax a little during the middle of the day or possibly earlier in the day or most of the day, even.  Some would call that being “underemployed” but I’m going to go with dreamer/fika.

When I told Spouse that we would begin fika-ing ourselves silly during the middle of the day while The Boy was at school, he may have misunderstood.

Next day, he showed up for our first fika bearing gifts of champagne, chocolate and a Lyle Lovett CD (don’t ask).

And when I busted out the knäckebröd and lärtsoppa och pannkakor, he didn’t say much either which is everything you could want in a fika.

With lingonberries on the side.

Dear Spouse: before you met me I was a philosophy major.

5 Jun

blog image rem

A lawnmower that runs for only 10 minutes (or until it catches fire) is actually the universe’s way of  encouraging you to: take small moments for yourself (and spend them with gaskets and sprockets and wrenches and such); to let go of the desire to “fix this once and for all” while knowing that there can be only one once and no other once but sometimes you might have a “one night only, manager’s special” kind of thing, and, also, to enjoy the spectacle that is life’s rich pageant.

That and I spent all the money we saved for a new lawnmower on downloads like R.E.M.’s 1986 album titled “Lifes Rich Pageant,” and some disco-era stuff by the Stones.

(Don’t be mad.)

“MACBETH” Act 4, Scene 3, Line 141*

8 May

blog image hamburglar

(* “Tis hard to reconcile.”)

Spouse said the  funniest sentence.  Or, rather, half sentence.  More like a fragment, really.

He began with: “when you reconciled the checking account…” and that’s all I heard.  I don’t know what he said next or what point he was trying to make because I stopped listening to him and started listening to my own brain as it began asking questions too.  Questions like: “reconcile?  Who uses a word like reconcile and what does “to reconcile” truly mean?  And what, if at all, does “reconciling” have to do with my accounting?  And why does Spouse keep staring at me like I, in my grip, doth the key to Heaven clutch?”

Note that I distinguish between “my accounting” and “my accounting thereof” because “my accounting thereof” is a phrase that I often use when answering Spouse’s more specific questions like: “what did you do with the money I already gave you?”  Answer: “you mean those few dollars that I took from your wallet?  A, you gave me nothing- I took those dollars and B, we are done talking about money, your wallet and my accounting thereof.”

Conversely, “my accounting” is how I would answer a different question like if Alex Trebek were to say “this person totally knows for whom the caged bird sings,” I would buzz in with: “is it Maya Counting?”

(I doubt that Alex Trebek would ever use the word “totally” but you can’t be sure.  Mr. Trebek has done some wild stuff including chasing down hotel room burglars in the nude.  For the record, Alex Trebek was naked.  I’m sure the crook was, at least, wearing a mask.)  Notice how I put my answer in the form of a question, though.

As for my personal accounting method, well, that’s what the ATM is for.  You go there and ask it for money.  If it says no, you keep working down until you hit a number upon which you both agree.  If it tells you to come inside, leave.

As for Quicken?  Until I met Spouse, I was pretty sure that Quicken was one of Santa’s reindeer.  Speaking of Santa (thereof), only 220 shopping days until my birthday.  (But really aren’t they all shopping days?)

And as for reconciling and such?

I keep telling Spouse that in order for a reconciliation to happen, a break up must first occur.

And that I can do.  

That Spouse.  He sure is funny.

STOMACH BUG DELAYS POST BY ACCLAIMED WRITER

17 Apr

blog image trebuchet

It’s not me.

It’s Spouse and Boy (and maybe the cat- they’re all so hairy).

As for me, I can sit at the kitchen table and discuss vomit and “The Exorcist” and all things projectile while eating a 12 cut slice of pizza.  (Side note: “All Things Projectile-” a new NPR show about rockets and drones and trebuchets and such?)

Also what is “12 cut” pizza anyway?  Do pizza makers not realize that if they take an average-sized pizza and roll over it twelve times they’ll end up with ribbons of pizza?  Conversely, if a shop makes a pizza large enough to cut even ten times they’ll end up making about one pizza per store and be out of business within a week.  Why must I fix all things linguistic?  (Take note, NPR.)

I’m talking to you upstate NY.

But not really.

I’m mostly wiping.  Counters and floors and handles and such.  It’s so exhausting; I can hardly find time to shop online for shoes.  (And dresses and scarves and hats and such.)

I was able to get out and buy a lottery ticket yesterday so there’s that.

Because nothing cures a stomach bug faster than 2.6 million dollars.

Except maybe a Twix bar.

Because life’s too short to not enjoy food when it’s moving in both directions.

You’re welcome.

Did you ever have a day…?

18 Mar

blog image deepak chopra

Where you woke up early, and it felt like Monday but then you realized that it was actually Sunday and so you went back to sleep ignoring The Boy and his incessant drumming as well as Spouse and his incessant breathing, for two more hours?

When the Deepak Chopra book that you borrowed from the library (“What Are You Hungry For?“) fell off the nightstand and opened to page 143 which clearly states: “who cares whose fault it is?  Assigning blame does no good” at which point you forgot to yell at Spouse for not returning the book to the library on time like he said he would?  (Answer: cheese sub.)

When the superintendent cancelled school because it was too nice to be inside?

When the dentist told you that The Boy is flossing just the right amount?

When the principal called just to say hi.

When the peanut butter jar looked completely empty but, via the rubber spatula, you were able to salvage not only enough peanut butter to make an excellent sandwich for The Boy’s lunch, but also enough to make a small batch of cookies?  (Well, there would have been a small batch of cookies if the dough made it to the oven.  But still.)

Or when your neighbor invited you over to learn about reflexology and she wasn’t having a “Young Living Essential Oils” party?

Where the temperature goes above.  Just above.

When you won the lottery?  When you played the lottery?  When you thought you had eaten the last Girl Scout cookie only to find half a box of Samoas stashed in the freezer inside an empty bag of frozen mango chunks?  Score.

Did you ever have a day like that?

Me neither.

But I can dream.

Which means that I’ll have to take a nap.

I like those days.

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