Sexy Sadie

Pup and I are about to book an April trip. He works long and hard hours during the tax season and this year we are heading someplace (it's getting narrowed down) where there will be lots of beach, lots of sun, lots of theme drinks, lots of shopping, and maybe even lots of golf.

We are Minnesotans. We are pale, chubby, and not beach ready in the least. Not that all Minnesotans look like this, but enough do that I sometimes hear our part of the country talked about in a not so flattering light. I have amused myself many times in Las Vegas by picking out the people I'm certain are from Minnesota. They are usually wearing bad t-shirts and fanny-packs around largish bellies.

So . . . I am in a competition with a co-worker. We are getting to our fighting-weight and competitive bodies for our April trips. I'm trying to get Pup to participate as well.

Better eating, better exercise, and better feeling. And hopefully better looking.

Here is what I aspire to . . .

I stumbled on this just a few minutes ago while cleaning out my photo-log in my blog folder. I was struck by it once again.

This photo made the rounds a few months ago and I remember marveling when I saw it. A woman of a certain age, looking a certain way. A hot, non-bobblehead kind of body.

Helen - will you be my poster-girl?

Helen Mirren

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Consigning Women

The best part of working in a consignment store, for me, is all the women.

I love men, but hanging out with women every day is great.

Good and bad. We're an awesome bunch.

The pain-in-the-ass women I see come in and out of the shop I can easily dismiss when the joy-to-be-around women outnumber them so.

I could talk about the consigner who said to me in a voice dripping with bitchitude after I had to ask her last name for a second time, "Sweetie, did you skip lunch today"? She wasn't worried about my blood sugar, she was just a bitch. Next! lol

Or the woman who said to me yesterday while she was picking up a few of her items that were expiring from her contract, "Oh I'm so exhausted! I can't possibly find these. Where are the blazers?" Here they are woman, you can do it. What? You won't recognize your own blazers? How would I recognize them?? And I promptly made myself scarce. (Store policy is consigners have to find their own property; we just don't have time to pull everyone's consignments at the end of their contracts. They know this, but manipulation is the name of the game.)

I'd rather talk about all the other women.

The ones that are in the middle of losing weight and dropping off one size of clothing to consign while shopping the store for a smaller size.

The ones that are young mothers and just want a minute to shop. A minute to find something cute they can afford because they're SAHM's and the budget is a bit tight for cute stuff.

The ones that come to me to ask for help, guidance, color advice, fit advice, styling advice. So open and appreciative.

The mothers and daughters that shop together. The daughter helping mom stay current without looking crazy. The mom pitching in on a few items the daughter wants just because she loves her.

The husbands and wives that come in where the husband is truly interested in watching her try on a few dresses. How awesome is that hubby?

The best friends that shop the store, calling out to each other as they find something incredible for the other one. "Roxanne! You have to try on this top! It will show off your twin sisters perfectly! You have the boobies for it!"

The ones that are just joys to meet and you get to chat for a hot minute with them. Laugh with them. Some days, even cry with them.

I just love women!

Smooches to all of you and I wish all of you could come in my store and we could laugh and cry and shop and look adorable.

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We Can't All Be Leaders

I stumbled on this a few weeks ago. It's fascinating!

When you find a great idea/person/concept jump on in!

On the other hand, just because people are jumping on a bandwagon is no reason to jump yourself.

Left and right. Black and white. Up and down.

Think for yourself and all that.

What do you guys think?

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One Man's Heaven is Another Man's Hell

Alex Noriega

I love this cartoonist.

~~~~~~~~~

I twist my hair. Really often and really energetically.

When I'm thinking, when I'm reading, when I'm talking, when I'm writing, when I'm zoning.

Half the time my hair is in a knot, twisted into a hair clip and chunks pulled out and pinned up on the opposite side. It's crazy, but I've done it since the third grade.

Most bad habits get dropped way before middle school. How many adults do you know that still bite their fingernails? Or use a pacifier?

But twisting is still going on here on my head.

~~~~~~~

I meant to talk about the idea behind the cartoon.

My heaven is digging at a flea market, going slowly through a thrift store, scoring a find at a consignment store, reading a book I cannot put down, listening to the radio (sometimes), weeding (weird), dusting (told ya), and obsessing.

There are more, but they don't sound interesting. Today anyway.

What are the things that are heavenly to you?

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Words I Love

shenanigans

brilliant

boner

obdurate

Jeep

wiener

empanada

mojito

daughters

organized

daisy

seduce

sale

published

crapinoli

art

arse

thick
What are your favorites?

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Vogue

I do not watch Glee and probably never will, but I heard about this video from the fabulous Sue Sylvester Jane Lynch.

Love this!

Vogue from Glee featuring Jane Lynch

(Hulu is loading incredibly slow for me so I'm only providing a link, but watch it!)

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Schlumpy, Frumpy, Dumpy

cartoon courtesy of nataliedee.com

Eee gads, what a mood!

I'm reading my horoscope this morning and find this further down the page. Holy Crapinoli! No wonder I'm feeling like a lukewarm-mess these past few days!

The Cancerian has many potential faults. They can be untidy, sulky, devious, moody, inclined to self-pity because of an inferiority complex, brood on insults (very often imagined), yet are easily flattered. They can be tactless and difficult yet, because they are normally ambitious, they will curry favor by floating with majority opinions, outlooks and fashions of the day. As a result they often change their opinions and loyalties and, indeed, their occupations, and lack stability. They are easily corrupted and, because they are convincing romanticizers, can make successful confidence tricksters. Their romanticism in another sense make them ardent supporters of causes, for example a football team with whose heroes they can identify in a world of fantasy.

Could I be the John Edwards of my neighborhood?

~~~~~~~~

Feeling a bit stuck of late.

How do ya'll unstick? How do you negotiate to motivate? How do you do it to be it?

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Oh Wait! Let me look for that.

It's time to cook a big-ass ham for many of us.

I'm not a huge fan of big-ass ham, but this morning I am digging through all the recipes I've gathered during my 21 years on this earth (ha!!).

I'm not a great cook, but I have been a lover of cooking since I was about 12 I think. I'd sit in my kitchen with my momma, going through her recipe box, and copying down some that appealed to me.

If I remember right, the ones I got from that time were mostly pie, fudge, cookie-type stuff.

Then I started jotting down other recipes from her files. Sadly, I never learned how to make her kick-ass roasts. Just can't duplicate that incredible taste. It's a momma-memory now.

I got my own recipe box (still have it) and started gathering my own recipes. When I was in my 20s and dating my wasband I really developed a love for recipes. Had to cook my way into his heart don't you know. Luckily for me the man would eat ANYTHING and enjoy it.

We had kids and I was a stay at home momma for a few years. Very budget-challenged years. I got incredibly good at dollar-stretching and the recipes grew and grew. Lots of hot dishes (shout out to Minnesota - hell ya!) and meatloaf stuff. Gathered tons of recipes from my momma again.

Had gardens with tomatoes, zucchini, broccoli, beets, green beans, winter squash, carrots, peas. Tons of other crap I can't remember.

Lots of canning. Jeez I used to kinda love canning. My girls will tell you different. That I was a crabby beast during canning days (late nights getting the stuff put up - tomatoes wait for no man or martha).

I sure did enjoy how the finished product looked. All those gorgeous jars full of colorful nummy stuff.

Going through the recipes is memory-loaded. So many of these were written from my momma's own hand and many are ones I dragged out again and again when the girls were babies.


So on Sunday I will bake my big-ass ham, roast my new potatoes, and make a bunny cake with marshmallow frosting. And I'll think about my momma.

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Pattie and George

Pattie Boyd Harrison Clapton has been the inspiration for five songs from two different rock stars according to wiki. I knew about three of them, but five?

Harrison's, Something and For You Blue, and Clapton's Layla, Wonderful Tonight, and Bell Bottom Blues.

Creative is as creative does I like to say.

Well, I'd say it if you were listening wouldn't I?

;)

She really is something to be sure.

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Perfection Redemption

Today, I've been spinning my wheels, running on empty, chasing a high, and any other schlocky cliche you can think of. A fretful, unproductive day.

Got me thinking.

If we are so busy worrying about perfection. Worrying about 100 percent, or the best, or the thinnest, or the cutest, or the smartest what is happening right now that we're not paying attention to? What flavor? What sensation? What touch, look, thought, feeling haven't I really tasted today?

When my darling Sarah Bella was little I walked her down our driveway so she could ride her bike over to her best friend's house down the street. I wanted to watch.

She took off, her hair bouncing back and forth, little legs peddling away. An ordinary happening that is a forever kind of memory for me. I wish I had millions of them. How many have I missed?

What did you miss today?

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I Want to Be Like Samantha Stevens

I TiVo Bewitched and keep a stockpile of them available for nights I cannot fall asleep. I like to turn on an episode and get lulled to sleep with Sam schlepping around in her perfect 60s kitchen, solving problems with just a little "twitch."

Most of the episodes start with her in the kitchen, fixing breakfast for Derwood. I used to think I preferred the first Darrin, but I have now come to believe that he didn't matter at all. It was only Sam.

I love how she's always ready to start her day. She's never sitting at the computer at 10 a.m., still in her flannel jammie-pants and camisole, cold coffee sitting on her left, cream congealing in the mug. No! She doesn't ever have uncombed hair or kitchen counters full of toast crumbs.

Nope - she's chatting with Endora or hiding something from Darrin, or waiting for her daddy. Pouring coffee from a great carafe and cleaning her side-by-side fridge. I want to be her when I grow up.

Remember that song by the The Bangles?

These are the days
when you wish
your bed was
already made.



I'll get to it. I just want to have one more cup of coffee.

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Marilyn

My eyes need something lovely to look at. I thought I'd share.

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I Am Going Shopping Tomorrow

Shopping being the key word here. Not buying, shopping.

Here is what Pup always says, "Honey, we are buyers, not shoppers." When the man is right, the man is right. Would you guys believe me if I told you he is waaaaaaaaaay worse than me?

I'm listening.

Hey, I can take it! Hit me!

Well . . . he is worse. The man recently bought a new computer because his had a virus. I'm not fibbing!

But, I'm going shopping tomorrow.

Here is a visual wishlist.

I need this bag. And everything else she has.

Sigh. Really, isn't this perfect?

Hmm . . . I can shop in someone's closet for this . . .

I don't think I have enough luggage.

Good god, the bag, the shoes, her scarf, her hair, her legs. I hate her. :)

Rinse, repeat . . . I am a broken record. But really, could she be cuter?

Wait, I meant this one.

How about this one? Would you believe this photo is from the 60s? Love it.

And . . . I wouldn't mind finding one of these. Do you think Pup would mind?

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I'll Miss You Allie

I've only known my neighbor, Allie, for about five years. I met her when I first started dating Pup. She is friendly, funny, sassy, opinionated, hard-working, lovely.

She wears leggings and tunic tops. Rakes her leaves even when her children beg her not to. Rides her bike even in the winter. Works for the Star Tribune hoisting newspapers onto a conveyer belt. Gives you presents of elaborate, birded Christmas wreaths. Reminds you of the city ordinances when you forget (do NOT leave your garbage can out until Saturday).

She colors her hair, wears eyeliner and mascara and lipstick every day, looks lovely and put together.

She is also 87 years old.

Pup told me a story about Allie that happened just before I moved in. Allie lives on one side of us and on the other side is a rental property with about 25 people living there (yes, a slight exaggeration). Very messy people. Their crap continuously would blow around our yard and ultimately into Allie's.

One day she had enough. She gathered up tons of the crap, marched over to the renter's house, opened up the front door (it was warm out and only the screen door was closed), and threw the trash in their door!

God, I howled for days after hearing that one.

When Barnabee (Barney, my dad, and Momma Bee) stayed with us during the month of June, he would move his Honda out onto the street to sit under a tree. Allie gently reminded him a couple of days in a row that cars were only allowed on the street for 12 hours (or whatever the time - I don't even know!) and he needed to get it back in our driveway.

Again - one day she had enough of my dad's shenanigans and left a firmly worded note on Barnabee's Honda. I love that woman. She is the Gladys Kravitz of the neighborhood.

My office faces the street and every day, when Allie would get home from her newspaper-hoisting job, I would see her don her bike helmet and go for a ride.

I chatted with her many times when I was out walking George. She loved dogs and has a bossy cat of her own that she had named "Butthead" from Beavis and . . . She would beg me to let her walk my dog. I never let her because George weighs 75 pounds and I've seen him knock over 200 pound men. She never let me forget that. Couldn't understand why I was being so selfish!

Allie died last week. Suddenly. We are so sad. She will be missed just terribly in this neighborhood. They don't make them like Allie anymore.

I will do my part by picking up her Gladys Kravitz torch and stick my nose into everyone's business. I've been training with Allie's guidance for years.

Miss you Allie. Keep everyone straight up there will you? I count on it.

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P!nk Just Might Be My Favorite Color

Sweet sweet Pink.

If you haven't seen this yet, watch it! Obey me!

If you have already seen it, watch it again! Do not disappoint me.

:)

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Weekly Inspiration

I just love this shot. I want everything she has on.

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Provocateurs

Stolen

pro⋅vo⋅ca⋅teur
  /prəˌvɒkəˈtɜr, -ˈtʊər; Fr. prɔvɔkaˈtœr/ [pruh-vok-uh-tur, -toor; Fr. praw-vaw-ka-tœr]
–noun, plural -teurs  /-ˈtɜrz, -ˈtʊərz; Fr. -ˈtœr/ [-turz, -toorz; Fr. -tœr]
1. a person who provokes trouble, causes dissension, or the like; agitator.
2. (italics) French. agent provocateur. Origin: 1915–20;


Poke the Bear

Beat a Dead Horse

Shit Stirrer

Muck Raker

Drama Whore

Devil's Advocate

It can be power. Sex. Control. Schadenfreude.

What is the motivation? Is it pleasure? Is it control? Challenging? Provoking? Stimulating? Confrontational? Offensive? Insulting?

Some like to toss the shit and watch the fallout. Some like to create drama and sit in the center. Some love being the poker.

Is it deliberate? Is it unknowing? I have to say it's fascinating to watch.

How are you an agent provocateur?

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Obsession

I have a new one.

I’ve been toying with my wrecking ball approach to a new me for a bit now. I do love the phrase “wrecking ball.” It alludes (with a huge iron ball!) to tearing down the old to make way for new new new. I’ve been floundering around a bit in my ADD way and having some trouble getting started.

So one morning I’m reading my blogs from Google Reader and listening to the Lori & Julia Show from fm107. A guest on the show is The Makeover Guy, Christopher Hopkins. Here is his wiki page.

I live in the land of gorgeous people and even better hair. There is great hair in the Minneapolis area! There is really bad hair too (sorry Fridley and Coon Rapids), but in the Minneapolis and the St. Paul urban area you can park your arse in many different locations and watch the gorgeous hair walk by. If you’re quick, you can run one of these incredibly fit people down and pound the name of their salon out of them. Maybe.

After all, we’re the home to Aveda (I grew up in Highland Park – home to Horst of Austria, the father of Aveda), Rocco Altobelli, Jon English Salon, Juut, Christopher's own ReVamp Salon, and so many others – one better than the next. I’ve been to more of them than I can count, but we’re not going to go into my hair-history. I don’t want to cry.

So I’m listening to Christopher Hopkins talk on the show and I remember that I own his book, Staging Your Comeback: A Complete Beauty Revival for Women Over 45. I run over to my bookcase to find it!

I bought it a couple of years ago when it came out. Christopher (imagine me saying that like Adriana from the Sopranos – Kristafah!) is a local style expert. Hair, lifestyle, fashion, decorating, everything. I’ve seen many of his makeovers on television, read about him in the newspaper, and listened to him on the radio over the years. In fact one of the Second Act women in his book is my former boss from Hazelden, Linda. I squealed when I saw her in the book! She is a lovely woman and he made her seriously stunning.

I met Christopher once myself. Or should I say I startled/annoyed him once.

I wish!

A woman I used to work with, Amy, is the niece of Uncle Gary – Minneapolis man-for-everything. I love Uncle Gary. In fact, he once said to me, “Bettie, (he thought I looked like Bettie Page) if I were straight, I would make you howl at the moon,” but I am going off-point.

Amy had gotten tickets from her Uncle Gary to a posh club opening and her hubbins, Bubba, wouldn’t go. She asked me.

I fretted over my outfit, makeup, hair, everything. We were going to be hanging out with all the Snaabs that our area can serve up. And the people at the club were beautiful! It was a blast to just hang at the bar, chat up the cute bartenders, drink the horrible sweet free drinks, eat the brilliant free tappas, and get an eyeful of all that is beautiful in Minneapolis. Oh the gorgeousness!

Amy turned to me and said, “We are the ugly bettys in the room you know.” I had to agree. With my Ann Taylor Loft outfit (I panicked – what can I say?) and her weird shawl, we really were a pair.

But after some lubrication of the alcohol-type, a gathering around us of fun people we somehow knew, and a few new people drawn to us because we’re fun, we really begin to laugh and sparkle.

I followed Amy outside to cool off and watch her smoke when I spotted Christopher.

“Christopher!,” I screeched. He turned, startled, towards me. I was just drunk enough to let my social-tourette's have its way. I saw his face go through several thoughts, do I know this woman? No, I don’t. Who is she? Is she dangerous? No – she’s just badly dressed. I saw it! Brilliant!

He looked me up and down and said, “I can see what you’re trying to do here.” Oh! Amy and I collapsed into laughter.

“I know Uncle Gary, Christopher! He loves me!”

The drunken, bitchy woman-lawyer that was hanging with us turned to me and spat, “Uncle Gary loves everyone you dumb-ass.” So much for Christopher and me having a connection.

Ugly bettys indeed! Hey, I’m more comfortable at Whiskey Junction. I drive a Jeep Wrangler, not an Audi.

Back to the book.

I’m excited. I am loving this book. It goes into DETAIL! Detail is important. It’s easy to just tell women, find a good stylist, get wardrobe basics, eat right, work out, blah blah blah. This book has details. Step by step details that appeal to my ADD.

I’ll report on my progress.

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uninspired

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Project Runway Inspiration

I sat for three hours Thursday night watching the Project Runway debut on Lifetime. The challenge was so fun to watch. The creativity is dumbfounding. How? You gotta love the brain. The endless variations of creativity really is inspiring.

How can we be more creative in our lives? There are places everywhere to do it. Our thinking, the way we express ourselves - be it verbally or in the written word, our houses, our car, our makeup, our hair, the way we dress, the way we accessorize, the way we cook, the way we set a table, the way we exercise. I have just scratched the surface.

Whenever I think I'm out of ideas (a big, huge, black thought of late) I need to push it in areas I don't think about generally. Inspiration comes from where we find it. Yikes I'm so deep. And so clichéd. How do you think clichés get started?? Ha!

Now get in that closet and get creative! Trends start with forward-thinking people like you.

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