My husband is off this week; it's so much fun to have him at home. We woke up early and by mid-morning, I had the incredible urge for breakfast from McDonalds (those damn Egg McMuffins!)
The time: 10:30am. Thirty minutes to scoot in the car and zoom two exits down to the nearest location. My poor husband, relaxing in his cute PJ's with his laptop in his lap, jumped when suddenly I booked it down the stairs.
"I need a Egg McMuffin and I have 30 minutes to get there!"
"Uh..okay." he says, confused. Usually I'm not up until noon. Hey, I like sleeping late. I throw at him a t-shirt and some shorts and head out the door (poor dear) as he trudges out behind me and we make record time to MickeyD's, thankfully just in time before breakfast ends.
Wal-mart is located in the same shopping center. Why not be productive and get a few things for the house we need? As we're munching on our yummy hash browns (the best part of the meal) we see a girl pushing her cart out to her car, bags fill to the brim, she did A LOT of shopping...damn girl...you go!
She puts everything in her new, black BMW, how nice, she looks 16. (No, jealousy here, really, I love my 10 year old Volvo.)
Then she drives away. The cart? She leaves it directly BEHIND the truck parked next to her. Not the at the side, the front, etc. Who cares that the cart corral is two feet away? I mean it's so far!!!
The large woman gets out of her car as we are walking past. She pulls down her stretch pants to adjust her stockings in the middle of the open parking lot.
One: do I really need to see your butt crack at 11am? And two: why are you wearing stockings when its 80 degrees out?
Wow. People amaze me; the things you miss when you sleep late.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
If I could live anywhere, it would be here...
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One of the many beautiful beaches--Cornwall, United Kingdom |
Monday, September 13, 2010
Serious Purging
My husband is on vacation this week. Are we going anywhere? Nope. I am using this week to PURGE. Clothes, shoes, and the ever popular--junk-collected-over-the-years-that-you-swear-you'll-use-sometime. Right now, I'm exhausted! I've been doing the "100 thing challenge" mentioned earlier in another post.
They were right, it's easier said than done.
I cannot part with my books, which are many. I count my books as ONE item...which is allowable according to many who are participating in this challenge. I am proud of the eight large garbage bags of clothes and shoes that are now sitting in my station wagon ready to be donated to Goodwill. My goal for day one: whittle down my wardrobe to only two weeks worth of clothes. God, laundry will be a breeze. Wouldn't that be nice for a change?
They were right, it's easier said than done.
I cannot part with my books, which are many. I count my books as ONE item...which is allowable according to many who are participating in this challenge. I am proud of the eight large garbage bags of clothes and shoes that are now sitting in my station wagon ready to be donated to Goodwill. My goal for day one: whittle down my wardrobe to only two weeks worth of clothes. God, laundry will be a breeze. Wouldn't that be nice for a change?
Wanderings...
I have gypsy blood...not really. That's what my father says to explain why I feel the need to move, change, reinvent my life, and the such. When I had more time and less responsibilities in my youth, I would change my hair color from black to brown to red to blond to platinum in a two to three month cycle. Now I settle for changing it up to a ponytail rather than wearing it down. My hair is my natural color and, surprise! I don't miss weekly dye jobs.
But I still have the urge to move. To venture to another state, hell, even another country (Britain). This urge that has gripped me since my youth doesn't seem to dissipate even in my 38th year. Sometimes, it is easy to ignore that desire propelling me on some new adventure. Recently, it's not so easy. The urge is at at an all time high. Now what? We've just moved to another state two years ago and I really need to give it a chance. I just miss the water. We used to live near the ocean, literally five minutes, but now it takes us two hours to reach the shore.
Maybe we'll be near the water again someday.
But I still have the urge to move. To venture to another state, hell, even another country (Britain). This urge that has gripped me since my youth doesn't seem to dissipate even in my 38th year. Sometimes, it is easy to ignore that desire propelling me on some new adventure. Recently, it's not so easy. The urge is at at an all time high. Now what? We've just moved to another state two years ago and I really need to give it a chance. I just miss the water. We used to live near the ocean, literally five minutes, but now it takes us two hours to reach the shore.
Maybe we'll be near the water again someday.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Scenes From The Beach
The sun sits high in the sky. Shortly, it will be the the end of summer as people flock to the shore for Labor Day. My husband and I are among the seagulls. I kept meaning to go all summer but my procrastinating nature won out and we never seemed to make it. Mainly, it's the "getting there" that is the problem; the drive that lasts two excruciating hours, mostly on the dreaded turnpike. Nonetheless, we finally made it unscathed and, for that, I am thrilled. I am even more thrilled that we found parking only two blocks from the beach.
We unload our plethora of things--I am obviously not a "beach towel only" kinda girl. I need a minimum of a comfy beach chair, food and drinks, of course good reading material, and the vital--super, extremely large beach umbrella built in with SPF 50 protection (ain't it great they know how to do that?) Hey, I'll be thanking myself in about 40 years when I don't look like a dried up piece of bacon.
We set up close to the water. My husband gets the umbrella up and now I just sit and relax...or at least try to. This is the perfect place to people watch. Also, there is a warm breeze thanks to a parting Hurricane Earl and if feels like heaven on my face. Interesting people are all around: masses swarm the surf, diving head first, dangers be damned; the large foreign group to the left speaking in quick, sharp tones; the loud family behind us with kids running around in nothing but diapers and hopefully lots of sunscreen; their cherubic faces are endearing as they squeal in delight and fear, both from the water and being chased their vigilant parents; all while two lifeguards sit in their lofty chairs gazing out to the water and hopefully watching for disasters as they flex their muscles to each other.
Must be nice to sit and be by the water all day. Maybe I'm in the wrong profession, I think to myself until I see them leap off their perch, rip of their hoodies, and dive into the water--all very Baywatch, I might add (and hurrah! They are watching...I feel very safe now.) I did find myself looking around for David Hasselhoff (guess he was busy that day.) Cue the music...hey where is that red canister/floaty thing that they're supposed to have draped across their tan, sculpted bodies. Oh, yeah, wait....this is not Hollywood I remind myself as the slightly pudgy one makes to the the struggling swimmer first. The other lingers behind. Finally, they both pull out what appear to be a dead body. Nah, it's a woman and obviously swimming is not her thing since she couldn't pull herself out of the ocean and was mercilessly bashed around by the waves. Finally making it on the sand, she's just passes out. They try to sit her up to no avail. Poor dear, I think and tell myself to avoid the water. No need to embarrass myself. She is subsequently taken away to recover.
The crowd disperses and life goes on. I barely have time to relax next to my husband when a flying beach umbrella (never thought about using this as weapon before...interesting) takes flight and almost impales the kissing couple in front of us. Yikes--a little to the left and we'd read about their unfortunate demise due to a cruel twist of fate in the morning papers. Good thing the Gods were smiling on them.
I'm quite enjoying myself until I almost get my head bashed in by a soccer ball. I immediately give the three dudes tossing it around an evil eye, but, of course they are oblivious to any inconvenience or potential harm they are causing others around them. I mean, why stay further back on the sand where there are large, open places to play when you could position yourself closer to the shore and around other adults and small children? I mean why be considerate? After all, consideration and common courtesy are overrated.
I guess I've mastered my "look of death" since the oldest guy stares at me and eventually moves them back and away from people. Or maybe it could have been the few choice words beginning with "f" and ending with "g" and don't forget the "bastards." Hey usually I'm and nice person, until you almost take off my head with a soccer ball. I kind of like my head.
I look over at my husband...still looking good... and hot, if I do say so myself. Darn...if only there was no one on the beach...we'll just leave the rest of those thoughts alone...for now.
Instead, I lay back on my fancy beach chair. Damn, this is nice, I think. Until the little kid kicks sand on me...ahhh...beach life at its best.
We unload our plethora of things--I am obviously not a "beach towel only" kinda girl. I need a minimum of a comfy beach chair, food and drinks, of course good reading material, and the vital--super, extremely large beach umbrella built in with SPF 50 protection (ain't it great they know how to do that?) Hey, I'll be thanking myself in about 40 years when I don't look like a dried up piece of bacon.
We set up close to the water. My husband gets the umbrella up and now I just sit and relax...or at least try to. This is the perfect place to people watch. Also, there is a warm breeze thanks to a parting Hurricane Earl and if feels like heaven on my face. Interesting people are all around: masses swarm the surf, diving head first, dangers be damned; the large foreign group to the left speaking in quick, sharp tones; the loud family behind us with kids running around in nothing but diapers and hopefully lots of sunscreen; their cherubic faces are endearing as they squeal in delight and fear, both from the water and being chased their vigilant parents; all while two lifeguards sit in their lofty chairs gazing out to the water and hopefully watching for disasters as they flex their muscles to each other.
Must be nice to sit and be by the water all day. Maybe I'm in the wrong profession, I think to myself until I see them leap off their perch, rip of their hoodies, and dive into the water--all very Baywatch, I might add (and hurrah! They are watching...I feel very safe now.) I did find myself looking around for David Hasselhoff (guess he was busy that day.) Cue the music...hey where is that red canister/floaty thing that they're supposed to have draped across their tan, sculpted bodies. Oh, yeah, wait....this is not Hollywood I remind myself as the slightly pudgy one makes to the the struggling swimmer first. The other lingers behind. Finally, they both pull out what appear to be a dead body. Nah, it's a woman and obviously swimming is not her thing since she couldn't pull herself out of the ocean and was mercilessly bashed around by the waves. Finally making it on the sand, she's just passes out. They try to sit her up to no avail. Poor dear, I think and tell myself to avoid the water. No need to embarrass myself. She is subsequently taken away to recover.
The crowd disperses and life goes on. I barely have time to relax next to my husband when a flying beach umbrella (never thought about using this as weapon before...interesting) takes flight and almost impales the kissing couple in front of us. Yikes--a little to the left and we'd read about their unfortunate demise due to a cruel twist of fate in the morning papers. Good thing the Gods were smiling on them.
I'm quite enjoying myself until I almost get my head bashed in by a soccer ball. I immediately give the three dudes tossing it around an evil eye, but, of course they are oblivious to any inconvenience or potential harm they are causing others around them. I mean, why stay further back on the sand where there are large, open places to play when you could position yourself closer to the shore and around other adults and small children? I mean why be considerate? After all, consideration and common courtesy are overrated.
I guess I've mastered my "look of death" since the oldest guy stares at me and eventually moves them back and away from people. Or maybe it could have been the few choice words beginning with "f" and ending with "g" and don't forget the "bastards." Hey usually I'm and nice person, until you almost take off my head with a soccer ball. I kind of like my head.
I look over at my husband...still looking good... and hot, if I do say so myself. Darn...if only there was no one on the beach...we'll just leave the rest of those thoughts alone...for now.
Instead, I lay back on my fancy beach chair. Damn, this is nice, I think. Until the little kid kicks sand on me...ahhh...beach life at its best.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Screenwriting 101--YIKES
Just started my screenwriting class at Gotham Writer's Workshop. So far, I don't know which genre to lean towards. It is certainly challenging to try to look at writing from a whole new perspective. I look at my writing from the "inside out,", now I have to approach it from the "outside in." Visual, visual, visual...is what it is all about.
The great thing is now I have an excuse to watch MANY movies and not feel guilty that I should be writing instead of wasting time on watching mindless television or going to the cinema.
I initially picked the genre of comedy for my script. What the hell was I thinking? When I can watch anything, I usually grab a cup tea and biscuits, plop myself down in my comfy recliner, and engage in some delightful English murder mystery--Miss Marple, Hercule Poirot, Midsummer Murders, and my personal favorite, Inspector Lynley. Well, either that or Hitchcock.
So again...comedy? We'll see. I might have to rethink and come up with some great mystery/suspense. We'll see, I guess. This should be interesting!
The great thing is now I have an excuse to watch MANY movies and not feel guilty that I should be writing instead of wasting time on watching mindless television or going to the cinema.
I initially picked the genre of comedy for my script. What the hell was I thinking? When I can watch anything, I usually grab a cup tea and biscuits, plop myself down in my comfy recliner, and engage in some delightful English murder mystery--Miss Marple, Hercule Poirot, Midsummer Murders, and my personal favorite, Inspector Lynley. Well, either that or Hitchcock.
So again...comedy? We'll see. I might have to rethink and come up with some great mystery/suspense. We'll see, I guess. This should be interesting!
Friday, August 20, 2010
Living Simply...NOT An Easy Process
I really have too much crap. God, I feel like I am drowning in it. I ponder about people that lose their homes to fires and floods and think how absolutely horrible it must be for people, but maybe they can start fresh. After all, humans are resilient creatures and there is no doubt that they will start over and build new lives. They are also not burdened by possessions.
No, I do NOT want my house to burn down or be submerged under a great flood, not seen since the days of Noah. On the other hand, I wish that can just get rid off all this crap without having to analyze every single piece that I own and ask the unavoidable question: “Do I need this?” and then spend an inordinate amount of time trying to figure out if I do.
Why do I want to do this? Because I am unhappy, as of late. I want to work on my novel, yet when I sit down to do this, all I see and can focus on is the chaos around me. I have the unexplainable urge to clean and organize, yet I have no space to put everything.
My husband and I used to live in a 500 sq. ft. apartment. I used to complain how small it was, but really, it sure was a heck of a lot easier than living in a bigger place. (Less cleaning and less space for you to buy things.) DON'T get me wrong, I am not trying to be ungrateful, on the contrary, I am so blessed to even HAVE a home, especially in these uncertain times. I just think it deserves the same respect of being clean and organized so that its beauty can been seen without being hidden by things.
I am attempting to limit my items to 100 personal things. Things are going slow, but I am making progress. Six garbage bags of clothes and bags to donate. Now on to the shoes….
Of course easier said than done! But for me it is an essential step to freeing the mind, and a clear mind lets my me hear my muse a little better!
No, I do NOT want my house to burn down or be submerged under a great flood, not seen since the days of Noah. On the other hand, I wish that can just get rid off all this crap without having to analyze every single piece that I own and ask the unavoidable question: “Do I need this?” and then spend an inordinate amount of time trying to figure out if I do.
Why do I want to do this? Because I am unhappy, as of late. I want to work on my novel, yet when I sit down to do this, all I see and can focus on is the chaos around me. I have the unexplainable urge to clean and organize, yet I have no space to put everything.
My husband and I used to live in a 500 sq. ft. apartment. I used to complain how small it was, but really, it sure was a heck of a lot easier than living in a bigger place. (Less cleaning and less space for you to buy things.) DON'T get me wrong, I am not trying to be ungrateful, on the contrary, I am so blessed to even HAVE a home, especially in these uncertain times. I just think it deserves the same respect of being clean and organized so that its beauty can been seen without being hidden by things.
I am attempting to limit my items to 100 personal things. Things are going slow, but I am making progress. Six garbage bags of clothes and bags to donate. Now on to the shoes….
Of course easier said than done! But for me it is an essential step to freeing the mind, and a clear mind lets my me hear my muse a little better!
Monday, August 9, 2010
Timeless Beauty
The ocean never gets tiring for me. The sound of the surf, the lonely beauty of the empty beach, and the blue green water that is endless. I enjoyed this quiet and absolutely RARE time of solitude on my trip to the shore.
I wish I could put a desk right here and never leave.
Soon fall and winter will be upon me and I will have to wait to enjoy the water once more. Not being a fan of the cold and especially being cold near an ocean lends to the notion that I better get plenty more visits in!
Friday, August 6, 2010
Learning About Myself
I just completed an online workshop about Personal Essays. I loved it! I do journal everyday and have kept one since I was a child. I particularly enjoy pulling out those old ones of so long ago. I laugh and sometimes cry at the person I was then; grateful for the improvements of now.
Taking this class was hard as I would have to open private parts of myself for strangers to read, but came to enjoy it and was so sad to see the class end. I learned that as human beings we all struggle with the same things: love, loss, fear, death of loved ones, etc. It just changes form from one person to the other, but we can learn so much from each other if we are willing to share.
I think I will take the advanced class. It's interesting to dig around in ones past, no telling what you might find. Things have away of burying themselves so deep you fool yourself into thinking you didn't put them there in the first place.
Taking this class was hard as I would have to open private parts of myself for strangers to read, but came to enjoy it and was so sad to see the class end. I learned that as human beings we all struggle with the same things: love, loss, fear, death of loved ones, etc. It just changes form from one person to the other, but we can learn so much from each other if we are willing to share.
I think I will take the advanced class. It's interesting to dig around in ones past, no telling what you might find. Things have away of burying themselves so deep you fool yourself into thinking you didn't put them there in the first place.
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