Things That I Think

Update: You may have seen this post go up last Friday. But this snippet ended up being the first episode of a miraculous little story (one which I’m still trying to process.) I’ve been journaling my guts out the last couple days. So maybe I’ll make heads or tails of everything (or a few things!) and share it on this little space. In the meantime, this is just a repost of Friday’s ridiculousness 🤪.

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I suppose it may need to be mentioned that I have a roommate, since we last blogged regularly. He’s a 10 months old little orange boy who goes by the name of Walter. He’s the very best kitty there ever was, but he is a VERY social boy who is absolutely outraged that I must spend 8 hours of my day away from him. Hence, he’s been acting out like it’s his JOB lately. Let’s be real. He’s been a total lunatic (a quirky, sweet, cute lunatic however). Thankfully enough, he’s been a perfect gentleman about his litterbox

Last night the proverbial last straw was pulled. Not just pulled…. Yanked.

I was heading to bed with my fave late-night snack – a bowl of grapes. It had been an incredibly long day, and I could not wait to crawl under the sheets.  I accidentally tipped the bowl o’ grapes as I took my glasses off, and a few grapes fell onto the carpet. (Please note I am basically blind without my glasses) I leaned over to pick a grape up and pop it in my mouth.  I noticed it seemed super shriveled – almost like a raisin. And then my stomach dropped and I curled up into the fetal position. It wasn’t a frozen grape at all. It was poop. Not only had my cat pooped on my carpet…. Not only did I accidentally pick up said poop…. I was literally a half-second away from EATING MY CAT’S POOP. This is my life.

What’d you do last night Karen?

Oh not much. Nearly ate a cat turd. How about you?

Like I said…. Last. Straw.

This whole fiasco led me to think about all the time I spend watching Stupid Cat Videos. I’m sure Walter would’ve loved to broadcast my Stupid Human Moment last night on Cat Youtube. Titled: Stupid Human Almost Eats Cats Poop and then Loses Her Absolute Sh!t (pun intended)

 

 

One of the total joys of this process we call aging is the fact that the amount of cares one gives declines as one’s age increases.

And that is a beautiful thing.

As I all-too-quickly approach the big 4-0, I find myself caring very little about what you think of me. I mean, I care what you think. I’m not a sociopath. I just don’t care if you think I’m cool. Or talented. Or normal.

In fact, I’m just going to jump right in without explaining myself. I’ll go ahead and ignore the fact that I’ve been MIA for 2+ years. (Oops. I just mentioned it – which means I am literally NOT ignoring that fact.)

I also don’t care if you think the preceding paragraphs are total garbage. I’m not prepared, you see. I made a commitment to myself to start up the old blog again on this very day: Friday, September 6th. And I’m doing this thing these days where I honor the commitments I make to myself. I had visions of writing this post in the early morning hours – at my designated writing desk while I sipped coffee. I’d write a carefully crafted tale that was at one moment hysterically funny, and the next heart-breakingly poignant.

This is not that post.

But stay tuned, that post may come.

I’m currently laying in bed at the end of a crazy Friday. – with absolutely nothing prepared to publish. In fact, the only story that is coming to mind involves a recent trip to Target. I had made a last-minute add-on purchase of some unmentionables (I HATE the word p@nties, so we’ll go with unmentionables). Of course, the shortest checkout line was being manned by a painfully awkward 16-year-old boy.

But I was reminded of the fact that I am 39 years old, and I no longer care what you think of me. And I certainly don’t care what 16-year-old Aidan from Target thinks of me. Or my unmentionables.

Resolute in my newfound confidence, I placed my items on the conveyor belt. Kitty litter, batteries, face wash, and leopard-print unmentionables. Nothing to see here folks. Just a perfectly normal variety of items being purchased by a perfectly normal lady. Besides, I don’t care what you think, Aidan.

The item scanning process was painstakingly slow, of course. Aidan carefully scanned each item. As he finally made his way to the unmentionables, I breathed a sigh of relief. Just then a woman walked up behind me in line. Aidan, mid-unmentionable-scanning, decided to be very helpful and tell the woman that there was no wait on aisle 7. The woman was immediately confused and couldn’t figure out where Aisle 7 was. Aidan gestured broadly toward the other end of the store.

This wouldn’t have been a big deal but for the fact that he still had my unmentionables in his hand. He was literally waving my leopard-print underwear in front of the entire store as a means to flag a customer to Aisle 7. And of course, time slowed to a crawl, and I’m pretty sure he stood there and waved my underwear over his head for approximately 12 minutes. (I mean. Maybe it was 2 seconds, but who’s counting?)

Hey Aidan, could you maybe NOT use my underwear to direct customer traffic?

(There’s a question I never dreamed I’d ask. Don’t worry, I didn’t ask it aloud. I telepathically willed the question to him as I stood there begging the floor to open up and swallow me whole)

It’s a good thing I don’t care what anyone thinks about me anymore.

All of that said. I’m back, babies! And I do still care what you think. Just not as much as I did before.

We’re watching An Affair to Remember tonight. So let’s just remove any trace of eye makeup we have on and get out the Kleenex. Because this one pulls ZERO punches. It delivers all the punches. Right in your gut. And your heart. With a few surprise upper-cuts to your chin. It’s shameless: Love story on a boat (punch). Beautiful grandmother who lives in a villa in the South of France (punch). Tragic missed opportunity (punch). Cary Grant (PUNCH👊).

Yes, this is the movie they refer to in Sleepless in Seattle. Let’s get that out of the way – because the original stands ably on its own and is (duh) better, anyway. Not that we were having a competition of Romantic Movies That Feature the Empire State Building.. But if we were, An Affair to Remember would win. Hands down.

This is another Cary Grant movie, because I just can’t quit Cary. It’s later in his career. I can tell this because his Tan Level is about a 7. That’s the “1-10 Scale of Cary Grant’s Tan-ness,”™ which is a scientific scale I invented to date Cary Grant. That’s “date” as in carbon dating, not “date” as in, I WISH!!!

For reference:

This one is young Cary, and rates in at about a 2 on the scale. Granted (see what I did there?), this looks like it’s colorized.

This one is a 5, and is most definitely colorized. However, it is worthy of note because of the orange, oompa-loompa-like skin color. Props to the colorizer, but he/she should’ve finished off the job with green hair.

And here we have a 6. Still looking healthy and vibrant.

And WHOA. 9, folks. Career is not quite on the skids, but tan is out of control.

I digress.

A few fun facts about An Affair to Remember:

• Poor Marni Nixon sang for Deborah Kerr again. You may have heard Marni’s voice coming out of Deborah’s mouth in King and I, Audrey Hepburn’s mouth in My Fair Lady, Natalie Wood’s mouth in West Side Story…. Apparently nobody noticed that the female leads in 1960’s musicals all had the same voice. And of course she never received credit. So let’s take this opportunity to observe a moment of silent recognition for Marni Nixon. Amen.
• Cathleen Nesbitt, who played Cary Grant’s delightful, elderly grandmother, was actually only 15 years older than Cary. This fact makes me cringe, roll my eyes, and laugh all at the same time. I can’t decide how I feel about this.
• The film is a remake of Love Affair (1939) and was remade in 1994 as Love Affair, starring Warren Beatty, Annette Bening, with Katharine Hepburn. This was Kate the Great’s last movie appearance.

I don’t know why I keep coming back. Many moons ago there was a doctor I really liked. She’s been gone for over 10 years, and I keep coming back – hoping I’ll find another Dr. Radcliffe. No such luck. Or maybe I come back because it’s just easier. Transferring insurance and medical records is a total pain in the arse, as we all know. Thankfully, I’m not here often. Maybe I’d care more if I were here regularly.

I sat in the little clinic room on the strange love seat chair next to the doctor’s desk. It was an unmistakable clinic chair – a hard slab with a bit of cushion, covered in a 1980’s-style Aztec print cloth. I wondered about the reasoning behind a love seat instead of the standard 2 chairs. I bet there was a board meeting about that decision: the psychological ramifications for a patient and loved one sharing a seat as opposed to 2 chairs. Or maybe it was just cheaper… a 2 for 1 deal.

The nurse had ushered me into this room, where I awaited my appointment with the resident sports physician. He was the only one I could get an appointment with at such late notice. All I needed was someone with a substantial background in medicine to tell me my ear was free of scarring, and I was no longer in danger of a brain infection. And Sports Doc would fit the bill. As the nurse opened the door to my room, she gestured to the room next to mine and mentioned Sports Doc was just finishing up in there and would be with me shortly.

I waited in silence – contemplating the aforementioned love seat as I sat. Then out of nowhere…..

“GOGOGOGOGOGOGOGOOOOOO!!!!”

My reverie interrupted, I froze – eyes big as saucers. And then, again from the room next to me…

“GOGOGOGOGOGOGOOOO…. AARRGHHHH!!!!”

I assumed it was the Sports Doc doing Sports Things with his patient. But what the WHAT. I was a little concerned about what would happen when it was my turn with the good doc. Would I be encouraged to GOGOGOGOGOOOO? Hopefully not. I’m crazy out of shape right now. I knew I wouldn’t be able to ask him what on earth had been going on in the next room (you know, privacy laws being what they are and all). So I started creating scenarios in my head. And if you know the way my brain works, that quickly got out of hand. I imagined people having routine evaluations with a spazz doctor shouting GOGOGOGOGOGOGOOO in their face. Before I knew it, I was laughing out loud in my little exam room, and realization hit me.

That’s why I keep coming here. This place is always ridiculous. And I truly love the ridiculous.

I hearkened back to a cold winter’s day a few years ago. I was perched on the edge of an exam table – just thin paper between me and the chilly air of the exam room. Few instances in life are as vulnerable as when we are sitting in these small rooms, waiting nervously, clad only in an uncomfortable, cheap paper gown. As I waited for my doctor to come in, the inevitable happened. (Inevitable in my life generally means “inevitably ridiculous”)

The fire alarm went off.

Let me walk you through this scenario…

<fire alarm blaring>

“YOU. HAVE. GOT. TO. BE. KIDDING. ME.”

That was all I could say or think for about 30 seconds. There was no way this was real life and was actually happening. I briefly wondered if I should take this seriously. However, nobody had warned me about a drill beforehand. It had to be the REAL THING. The building was actually burning down, and I was basically naked and alone on the the 5th floor. This is how it all ends, I thought to myself. This is my grand finale.

But in the meantime, I desperately planned my escape.

I should probably just tear out of here as fast as I can, I thought. I then pictured myself running down the stairs, flames licking at my back as if I were in a Road Runner cartoon. What if my paper dress caught fire? It would be torched in a matter of seconds, and I’d be standing there with second degree burns beside a pile of dress ashes. And if I managed to make it out at all, I would most likely be standing there in all my paper dress glory next to a bunch of professional-looking doctors and nurses. Awesome. Oh, and the temperature outside was a cool 20 degrees.

So that was settled. I had to ditch the dress for clothes. I quickly grabbed whatever clothes I could grab and haphazardly threw them on my body.

Just put on whatever you can. I’m sure it’s a drill and you’ll be back in this room in about 15 minutes, I counseled myself as I grabbed for the door knob and bolted out. I quickly walked through the office and joined a steady stream of confused and mildly alarmed people headed down the stairs. From what I could gather, this was definitely not a drill. Nobody seemed to be in the know about anything.

When we were all safely out of the supposedly burning building, I spotted the smiling face of my nurse.

“Isn’t this funny?!” she asked me. It was all I could do to not roll my eyes into the back of my head.

As I searched for words that would seem vaguely good-humored, I felt an odd feeling just above my knee. Something was slowly slipping down my leg. I did a quick inventory of the clothing I had managed to put on and felt my stomach drop. Horrified, I realized that it was my underwear. It was slowly making its way down my leg and threatening to fall out of my pants leg onto the sidewalk… in the middle of a crowd of doctors… some of them attractive male doctors. The HORROR.

I was at another crossroads. Was I quick enough to grab them and throw them in my pocket, without anyone in the crowd being the wiser? I’m not exactly known for my slight of hand or agility. Or do I let them fall out and walk away, pretending I don’t know where the errant undergarment came from? I decided my best bet would be the sneak attack. I did the old “scratching-my-leg-just-kidding-hiding-my-unmentionables-in-my-pocket” trick. And thankfully, no one seemed to notice. (At least that’s what I told myself and have to keep telling myself to this day)

The fire alarm turned out to be the fault of some hapless construction worker. There was no fire, of course. And before I knew it, I was back in my little room in my paper dress… pretending the previous hour had not happened. The rest of the appointment was business as usual.

Moral of the Story: In case of fire, ditch the paper dress. Obviously.

 

by Wendell Berry

It may be that when we no longer know what to do we have come our real work,

and that when we no longer know which way to go we have come to our real journey.

The mind that is not baffled is not employed.

The impeded stream is the one that sings.

*Have you read Wendell Berry? I’m not a big poetry fan, but his words (both prose and poetry) never fail to ground me. I find such beauty in his simple clarity.

As I mentioned yesterday, here are a few of my favorite recipe standby’s for when I’m dragging or just plain busy.

Breakfast = Smoothie! I throw everything into the magic bullet. I usually use a handful of spinach, almond milk, TJ’s Matcha Green Tea powder, half a frozen banana, protein powder, a tbsp peanut butter, and a tbsp each of chia seeds, hemp seeds, and the TJ’s Super Seed & Ancient Grain Blend.

I depend on Trader Joe’s often when I’m looking for healthy and convenient ingredients. One of my favorite lunches to throw together is a rice/chicken bowl of sorts. I layer in a container: Trader Joe’s frozen brown rice, TJ’s Chili Lime grilled chicken, black beans, frozen corn, and top with salsa, cilantro, and green onions. It’s almost Chipotle-esque!

 

I’m also big into crock pot meals when I’m looking for convenience. I tried this one today (pictured above), and LOVED it. The only thing I changed was subbing 4 packets of Splenda for all the sweeteners

I also threw this one together. I ended up cutting them into 16 bars instead of 8 since they’re pretty big – and I intend to use them as a snack/sweet fix. They taste like a baked form of CoCo Wheats.

And on the viewing menu tonight. I’m watching these idiots:

And laughing ALOT….

Today’s post delayed partly because of the below:

You know. Just an adult doing adult things.

And I’ve recently taken a Benadryl, so things may take a turn… and probably not for the better.

You may ask which version of Parent Trap I’m referring to. The 1961 original, of course. I refuse to acknowledge the very existence of the remake. Why would you even ASK that???Anyway, this movie has been one of my favorites since I was a wee lass of 5 or 6. I grew up watching (and loving!) live action Disney Movies. We’re talking Mary Poppins, Pollyanna, Swiss Family Robinson, Bedknobs and Broomsticks (that’s the one where Angela Lansbury saves the world with 3 kids on her flying bed and then goes into battle with invisible soldiers. What the…? Sometimes you describe these things, and they sound like a hallucination from an acid trip.) Parent Trap was always my favorite. It’s been a week of a week. I’ve somehow made it through with my hearing and my sanity. But sometimes a girl just needs some comfort food at the end of the week. And I’m on a diet, so it’s a comfort MOVIE tomorrow!

The premise is ridiculous, of course. Hayley Mills plays twins Sharon and Susan who are separated just after they were born and their parents divorced. Somehow, it is totally plausible that the parents were cool with completely cutting ties with the twin they didn’t have custody of. They meet unexpectedly at camp and devise a plan to switch places when they go back home. Then they can meet their parents and, of course, bring them back together. As they prepare to switch places while still at camp, Susan cuts Sharon’s hair, so they can both sport the most unflattering haircut known to man.

And so Sharon goes to California to be with Dad (Brian Keith), and Susan goes to Boston to see Mom (Maureen O’Hara). Of course neither parent recognizes that they have the wrong twin, because they’re BOTH played by Haley Mills. This movie was relatively successful in utilizing the new-at-the-time technology of split screen filming. They also used a double for scenes when filming the back of one of the twins.

Things are going along swimmingly until they encounter a WRENCH. Dad is engaged to be married to a Future Wicked Stepmother (FWS). Of course this FWS, like any wicked stepmother worth her salt, plans to send the child to boarding school. So the plan kicks into high gear as Susan reveals herself to her Mom. It is then decided that Mom is not presentable enough to go to California. Because, obviously. What a disaster:

So, MAKEOVER!

Then it’s off to California to meet up with Susan and dear old Dad. Dad has a ranch house that is absolutely gorgeous. My dream house.

And then it’s all hilarity and high-jinks from there on. Overall, I highly recommend for anyone who needs an escape from all the crazy. It’s a sweet movie that provides a good hit of nostalgia and a much-needed smile… Disney at its finest! Oh, and it’s streaming on Netflix, to boot.

 

 

 

 

If you are a classical music lover, you should watch this TED Talk. If you’re not super into classical music but want to appreciate it, you should watch this TED Talk. If you’re a human with ears and a heart, you should listen to this TED Talk.

He reminds me of some of my former music professors and coaches. Their passion and love for music was contagious, and I am so grateful they passed it on to me.

This happened today:

Decisions were made. Fashion happened!

The bottom half is clearly inspired by Audrey Hepburn circa Funny Face:

The top half is where risks were taken. Because what better to pair with Audrey Hepburn than Dorothy Zbornak?! Yin and Yang. Hot and cold. Note the ill-fitting, 4 sizes too large button-up with rolled sleeves, the flowy scarf, the large jewelry, the LAYERS. There’s alot going on here, people. All so very Dorothy! (Unfortunately you can’t appreciate everything that’s happening based on my mediocre hallway selfie) I’ve opted to leave out the linebacker shoulder pads, because that would be too obvious. We have to be subtle in our fashion choices.

A few more outfit inspiration ideas:

For a night on the town. The perfect ensemble for when you feel like wearing metallic mint green and can’t decide between a tux or an evening dress. We’ve all been there.

And THESE. I will personally pay anyone $20 to jog around Lake Calhoun while sporting these duds. (You have to wear the head and wrist bands too, or no deal)

This is where I draw the line though. Are those chopped up toilet paper rolls???

If I ever get married, I’ll opt for something a little more subtle. Like this… (ironically enough, this is from a movie called Man-Proof. I’m fairly certain the title of the movie was in reference to this monstrosity of a wedding dress. Ah the 1930’s… Don’t ever change!)