The Closet Palette

I've been teased about this by my daughters. You look in my closet and all you see is black, gray, white, and about a million shades of beige. It sounds dreary, but sorpresa!, it isn't. It's what I gravitate to, it's my comfort-hunger. It doesn't feel boring to me. I could be delusional. (Don't you roll your eyes at me missy! Or mister.)
I will refrain from using that PHRASE, (pop of color-arg) but I do like to use my color in different places. The belt. The handbag. The scarf. The jewelry. The shoes.
I just don't like colors ON me. Maybe because I grew up wearing red each and every day of my life because my redheaded momma could not wear red (she thought anyway) so she dressed her dark-haired daughter in red ALL THE TIME.

I still adore red. I do look good in red. I'd just rather carry it on my arm, wear it as a coat, tie it around my neck.

White - I love love love white. T's, puffy jackets, jeans, wool coats, scarves, sandles, handbags, gloves, button downs, sweaters.

Who doesn't love black? The ubiquitous LBD - I mean, come on, how many do you own? I bought two just yesterday (clearance rack! love love love). Black turtlenecks (sexy), black pencil skirts, black leggings, black shoes, black pants, black black black. I'm a graphic designer and I remember once had a talky-chat with a vendor and he said, "So tell me Deborah - just how much black is in your wardrobe?" We both fell out laughing because it is just so true. Designers LOVE black. Go figure.

Gray. Ohhhh my love. So sexy in a T. What is the best color for a sweatshirt? Sweaters sweaters. Dresses! Oooooh gray dresses. Shoes. I have loved gray my whole life. One of my newest fav handbags is gray (thank you San Francisco). Gloves! Mmmmm the gray love.

Beige. Don't jump to conclusions. There are billions of shades. Stone, cream, caramel, winter white, khaki. Millions more I can't think of. I love it paired with white. Handbags in beige! Mmmmm so buttery.

What is your palette?

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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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Over and Over and Over

My family and I were discussing our favorite movies and the movies we could watch over and over. Everyone has one. Pulp Fiction might be at the top of the list for me. This being one of my favorite scenes in the movie.

Also, how hot was Bruce Willis in this movie? An arse like a round, hard apple . . . oh! I think I went to my happy place for a minute. Apologies . . .

A few others thrown around that day were, The Usual Suspects, Caddyshack, Gone with the Wind, Goodfellas, Thomas Crown Affair.

What is yours?

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You're Gonna Do Wha?

I had my first acupuncture appointment yesterday.

I have an ongoing knee problem. Ripped my meniscus somehow after or during a fall while walking my doggy. Had knee surgery. Still have a knee problem. How frustrazione! Grr and arg.

So, on advice from dear sis and BIL I went yesterday. I do not understand acupuncture. The darling acupuncturist was qi this and energy that and release objective. I'm game! Come on and release me! Bring it on!

Here's the most interesting thing, after going over a list of symptoms she asked me to provide, she, in a minute mind you, came up with several ideas for other things that ail me. WTH? I find that seriously amazing. I've whined to a few docs in the past few months about a couple of these things and mostly got the I-listening-but-not-really face. You know that face. The oh-god-she-looks-crap-up-on-the-internet face.

This woman did NOT have that face. She said I was ahead of the game because she didn't have to break through my conventional-wisdom BS barrier. Spiff!

She put little needles (I know! I didn't look!) in my hands, in both my knees, in my ankles, in my feet. She centered a heat lamp on my sad knee, put on some crazy, relaxing music, and left me for 20 minutes.

At first I was concentrating on the weird sensations coming out of the points of entry. A few felt itchy, a few felt heavy, a few felt like they were radiating . . . something. Then I fell into the rhythm of relaxing. Fell into the sensations coming from the points. Loved it.

She gave me a sheet of foods to avoid. She stressed she does not like to say do this and not that because then it becomes a "diet" and, as we all know, those nearly always fail.

Do I look centered?

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Hot Men Friday

Because he's my most recent iPod-club listen. I used to gaze at his exotic face and hair as a young un and get shivers. He gave my dad fits I tell you what. "He's a gad-damn girl for the chris sakes. Why doesn't he get a gad-damn haircut"? Ha!

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Gym Dandy to the Rescue

So, I've been going to the club on a REGULAR basis for three weeks now. The resolutioners I spoke of are out in lovely abundance. I love each of their chubby butts. Including mine.

I am puzzled a bit though dear readers (you're out there I know it!) - the peeps that are on the stationary bikes, what are they doing exactly? Already I've noticed a select group of the same people on the bikes that are reading the paper. Can you really work hard and read the paper? I know I'm in the gender that can multitask, but reading the paper and sweating just does not seem to go hand in sweaty hand.

But there they sit, reading away. Dudes and Dudettes! Just buy a stationary bike and park it in front of your TV if that's what you want to do.

Already I'm all self-righteous aren't I? I have resolutioners fever.

For me - I'm an elliptical girl. I used to hate that damn machine and ran faithfully to the treadmill. But my ortho guy said elliptical and now I'm getting a bit obsessed about it. Quell surprise! Ha!

So I have my earbuds in, listening to the Rod Stewart that was in The Faces, looking around at my fellow rats.

Observations:

1. A few men who suffer from 70s-itis. No lie. Could those shorts be any shorter??
2. Why all the "skullets"?
3. Fellow chubs wearing sweatshirts. Again, Dude!, you'll be sweating here. You're not fooling anyone
4. All young uns are cute
5. Trainers like me. Because I'm a challenge? My elliptical wit? My bright, shining face that is becoming a regular?
6. Lots of machine-jumpers

Love it!

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Cooking with Style

Since I'm whole-hog into my wrecking ball I have been cooking. I've pulled out all my 3-ring notebooks that are stuffed with recipes. I've been going through all of them and editing. Have you ever pulled out some horrible recipe and thought to yourself, "WTF"? Why on earth would I ever want to make raisin custard pie? Shudder!

Pupcake is not an adventurous eater. In fact he eats like a 12 year old. A 12 year old that was never ever made to eat his vegetables. He's number seven out of eight kids and I think by that time his momma wasn't paying attention anymore. I'm guessing Pup's older sisters took care of him and probably let him have anything he wanted to just shut him up. I'm guessing here. ;)

So, to cook new recipes for this guy is challenging. It has frustrated me up to this point, but I finally figured out I've been going about it all wrong. He eats three things - that's just the facts. I don't eat maybe three things. So I've been just cooking. He will like or he won't. Tonight he ate something rather robustly that I feared he wouldn't touch. Score!

I love love love cooking.

Today I made a crustless and sugar free pumpkin pie. Light and fluffy.

Then I made a burger/sausage/rotel/cream cheese panfry to serve on buns. Nummy . . .

Yesterday I made quiche. Tomorrow deviled eggs, zuke appys, and a baked brie. I'll be drinking white wine and watching Gone with the Wind.

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The Resolutioners

You know them. They crowd into your gym, hogging all the ellipticals, not following the rules, sitting their bare arses on the benches in the locker room (true - this happened to me).

They eat and drink like mad the last week of the year then swear they will change now.

They clean closets, clean their cars, clean their minds.

I'm one. I never want to be one, but I am.

As much as it is cliché to start anew at this time of the year, what better time to do it? It's good. It's time. It's the thing to do.

I'm only smug because I started a few weeks ago. Resolutions for the new year are so 2009. Ha!

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