Thursday, March 24, 2016

A Week

Ugh, it's been a week of sad things for people I know and love. Like horrible violence, and death, and cancer. And as no sad news go without a good cry from me, I've shed a few too many tears.

But it has also been a week of happy things for people I know and love. Like babies being born and mother's waking up from comas. I'm not even kidding you guys, a coma! I tell you, life. It's just been really big this week. And in case you are worried, I cried for the good stuff too. If there is something to cry over I volunteer as tribute. Which reminds me that I need to recommend Sephora's ginseng and green tea eye masks to you. They are your puffy crying eye's worst enemy.

So today, after I had to shut the institute down early because there was a bomb threat across the street on campus (for crying out loud!) I ran errands and watered my flowers (Spring! You are saving me with all your glory!) and turned on the Stevie Wonder Pandora station and had a dance party while I made dinner. Tacos. Of course. Because what else do you eat during a week like this? And because Camille sent out this question in a group text to the sibs: "If you had to choose between eating tacos every day or being skinny would you choose hard or soft shell." Soft. Although there's no denying the appeal of a good crunchy taco.

Here, watch these baby bunnies in cups. 

Thursday, March 10, 2016

Business Casual Bro

This morning, while waiting for a bagel, a Business Casual Bro got in line behind me. You all are familiar with the BCB, I assume. Dresses well but talks like he just left the frat house, is constantly on the phone to one of his BCB friends talking loudly about deals they've made and plans for the weekend*, says dude a lot but in kind of a creepy way, yells, "get in the hole!" when watching golf, will probably vote for Trump. And in this case, stands too close to you in line. One of the best things about America is that we value our personal space. Not having to touch the sweaty masses is our birthright. The general spacing rule for strangers in public, unless you're administering CPR or putting an assailant in a full-nelson, is that someone should be able to comfortably walk between you. A large person. Two is better. The BCB was no more than a lithe Russian ballerina's width away - front to back, not side to side. I had to do the old half-turn trick to let him know to back it up a bit but he didn't move. Even with my shoulder in his chest he was too busy talking on the phone to his BCB pal about the sweet San Antonio deal they were working on to notice. I tried to move forward but then I would be encroaching on the lady in front of me. It was quite a pickle. And then he kept grossly whispering, "Get it, dog," to his buddy. No doubt San Antonio would be very lucrative for the both of them.

In other line news I was in one at the grocery store last week and a checker from the 15 items or less lane came over and said she could check me out. But I had way more than 15 items in my cart and said so. I am, in my heart of hearts, a rule follower. Even if I have 16 items in my basket I will not do it. And if I see someone in line who has more than 15 items my fiery rage cannot be contained. She said it wasn't a big deal. But let me tell you, it FELT like a big deal. I wanted to tell the people who got in line behind me that I was INVITED. I didn't just slip in like some no-account hooligan who thinks that all these cans of chickpeas count as one item because they're the same. They're not the same!!

*They all will be where I will be, which is Indian Wells, CA for my annual Tennis in the Blazing Desert Sun Weekend with Camille. They will all be wearing salmon colored shorts and Roger Federer hats. That place is teeming with BCBs. 

Friday, March 4, 2016

On being social and other things

I go through periods where all I want to be is a hermit living under my covers watching Kimmy Schmidt. And that's lovely. But then I start to think that I should get out and be amongst humans and it's usually when I get to that point that my calendar starts filling up. It's nice that it works out that way. Which makes me think that maybe I'm giving off vibes that people pick up. Like, "No. I'm hermitting right now." or "Yes, please. Take me out into the sunshine." For those of you who are around me on the regular please don't feel hurt when I give off the hermit vibe. It's not you, it's me. I genuinely like you. I just really also like my silent bedroom.

Which isn't so silent right now as there is a pack of feral girls over at the school behind my house having a shrieking contest? I think? I mean, they're really going for it. Aside from the fact that it's making my ears bleed, I do think it's kind of charming because my childhood friend Shanley and I would go over to the school and do all sorts of random things. Like run around the field on foggy mornings. Or bring pencil and paper and write letters to marine biologists with questions about sea horses. Shanley was desperate to get some. I do wonder sometimes what has become of her.

On childhood, longtime chum Valerie was in town for a few weeks and when she brought her girls over for a visit the first thing she did was walk to the side yard to check out the wood pile which is no longer there. She and my sisters used to spend many hours after school on that wood pile, avoiding nails and stuff. It's been moved and organized and covered with a tarp, which is a real shame for all the future children who will play back there. Ah, youth. Keep screaming girls!

Val and James also came over the other night and watched Cdm. Scott Kelly land on the Kazakhstan steppe after his year in space. They brought Marinelli's and we toasted space and Mars and the astronauts and exploration! We also really felt for Sergey, one of his fellow travelers, because he looked like we all would look after a rumbley flight through the atmosphere. That is to see, barfy. They pulled him out of the capsule first and immediately he had the barf bag to his mouth. Poor guy. I would literally be lolloping out of the top and wailing if I were in his shoes so I get it. They carried him over to his chair and bundled him up and then pulled the other two out. They both looked hail and hardy and poor Sergey looked like a wet rag. At one point someone started combing his hair and it was such a pathetic moment that I loved him instantly.

Where was I even going with this? Oh, right, I'm being social now. And as such my friend Jill and I have started a regular lunch date. Jill and I taught seminary together for 3 years. I had the freshmen and she the sophomores. And every day we would meet up after class and talk it out - about the kids, and doctrine, and chocolate. And I've missed it since moving away so we've instituted lunch. And today we went to the Nordstrom's Cafe. And here's the story about that (Is that not the most Perd Hapley thing I've ever written?) When I was younger and going to the mall more regularly I used to park in the Nordstrom's covered parking and take the elevator up. There was always parking I would cut across Norstrom's to get into the mall because their perfume aisle was far less aggressive then say, Macy's, which is a gauntlet. There used to be a sign in or near the elevator with the departments and I would always notice that the cafe was on the top floor. And in my mind it seemed like such an elegant thing to do - to spend the morning shopping at Nordstrom's with friends, possibly getting some kind of frivolous accessory or a tweed suit, and then go get a salad at the cafe. It was all so very ladies-who-lunch. I never shopped at Nordstrom's of course. Only Ladies of a Certain Age and Tax Bracket did that. So when Jill suggested our next lunch should be at the cafe I was all in because I am of age and also living the life of Elegant Leisure. Although I still don't make enough to shop there. It wasn't as fancy as I had hoped. I mean, the servers were wearing matching t-shirts, for crying out loud. But it did live up to the expectation that I was eating a salad with a friend. We are officially ladies who lunch. And I did peruse the accessories on my way out.