avidbruxist – Page 18

Sunday Evening Is Not Easy Like, Say for Example, Sunday Morning

There I was, expressing my wildly swinging emotions about… some topic. I don’t know—this was probably 8 years ago. But I do remember what my friend Cat said: “Well, sometimes possibility is winning, and sometimes your concerns are winning.”

It was such a simple paraphrasing of what I’d been ruminating on. It was as if I had been spinning in circles, rising into the air, and she had grabbed my ankles and given them a toss earthward. Thunk, thunk, my feet were planted. All was steady.

Because they’re both fiction—possibility and concerns. Neither is real. Neither is what’s happening right now in the moment. Neither can be measured. The battle is a fantasy.

Every so often, I’m reminded that this battle between what’s possible and what’s worrisome rages on, but I feel like I’d benefit from keeping this concept closer to the decision-making part of my brain. (Especially since my concerns tend to occur to me not as obstacles to be overcome but instead as immovable barriers.)

Plus, I’ve noticed a predisposition toward one or the other at different times, so in the spirit of knowing thmyself, I’m going to make a list. I should probably post it on the fridge. Or tattoo it onto my forearm.

Historically, when possibility has been winning:

mornings when I wake up without an alarm
pretty much all mid-mornings
Daylight Savings Time
when I’m pleasantly busy (“Action is the antidote to despair.” -Joan Baez)
generally speaking, if I’m dancing or hula hooping
66% of the time I’m at the gym
79% of dog walks
94% of the time I spend with family/friends
100% of times I’m floating on a tube down a river

Historically, when my concerns have had the upper hand:

mornings when I wake up with an alarm and/or before 7:30am
late afternoons, on days I don’t go to the gym
when I wake up in the middle of the night
non-Daylight Savings Time
when I spend too much time by myself
generally speaking, if I see pictures of myself working out or video of myself dancing
days 21-28 of my cycle
when people deviate from the script I have in my head
when I have too much free time and not enough structure
Sunday evenings

If I can stay aware and recognize when concerns are on top, I’m not saying I’ll be able to wrestle them down, but at least I can say, “Oh, look who showed up. It’s Concerns. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Sure. Gotcha. Thanks for sharing, Concerns. Now fuck off.”

When possibility’s in the lead, that’s when I need to make plans and get shit done.

What about you guys? Do you have certain times when you’re predisposed to letting one or the other win?

Retrobruxist Friday 4/19/13

Rep. Moore said he’d withdraw the Aggressive Breeds bill if/when it came back to the floor! It was probably my email that did it, don’t you think?

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I can’t believe how much food Redford ate three years ago. These days he gets less than half that! I think he’s still grieving.

Two years ago, I wrote what I thought was a silly throw-away post that nonetheless got real in the comments section.

And here’s yet another post, from a year ago, where the comments section is actually better than the post itself.

Happy Retrobruxist Friday, y’all.

Pretty Sure Any of Us Could Buy a Rifle Today, No Questions Asked

To: rodney.moore@ncleg.net; larry.pittman@ncleg.net
cc: mickey.michaux@ncleg.net
Date: 4/17/13

Dear Sirs:

I read the bill, “Regulate Ownership of Aggressive Dog Breeds,” and my question is what are the requirements for NC gun owners? Must they submit to a criminal background check? Do they have to complete a safety course of no fewer than 4 hours? What about notifying their home insurers? Are they required to get a special permit from the Department of Insurance?

These are not rhetorical questions. I’ve done research online, and I believe the answer to all questions is no. (From what I understand, a permit is required for a handgun but not for rifles/shotguns.) Please let me know if I’m mistaken, but if I’m not, you, Mr. Moore and Mr. Pittman, have your priorities vastly out of whack.

I won’t even get into the inanity of profiling dogs by breed.

Sincerely,
Amy Scott

You guys, if you give a crap about this issue even a little tiny bit, please write your legislators. For me and Violet and Redford and Buffy and Tulip and ‘Nita.

Littlest Niece with the very aggressive Redford last summer. — Redford is so very aggressive.

Jeans Lessons! with Other Fayshun Lessons!

Preamble: Sorry for my photography. I’m clearly limited. I have no special lighting or camera or, you know, discernable skill. But I’ll try to teach you what I learned from Kate and Michelle on our jeans excursion. Also, note that these are lessons for me-shaped women, i.e., hobbit-height, dumps like a truck truck truck/thighs like what what what. The rest o’ yous are gonna have to get your own advisors.

BEFORE:

Lesson #1 Whiskers—those horizontal, bleachy stripes on the hips—accentuate the extry-wideness. Not recommended.

Lesson #2 Repeat after me: Uniform dark wash. Any lightening of the fabric along the thighs, however imperceptible to my eye, is totally perceptible to Kate’s eye, and that means it’s a no.

Lesson #3 Gap produces reasonably-priced jeans (unlike, say, 7 for All Mankind—two hundred what now?) and has a “Curvy” line. What that means for a lady with an onion is that there won’t be a 1- to 5-inch gap between her lower back and the waistband.

Supposedly Gap makes Curvy Straight-Leg jeans, which Kate prefers, but all they had in the store was Curvy Boot-Cut and Curvy Skinny. She said get the Boot-Cut (which I did) and have them taken in a little at the ankle so they don’t bell out so much (aaaand we’ll see if I get around to that).

AFTER:

Also bought this blazer with *neon stripes*. I OWN SOMETHING NEON. <passes out> <revives self> I was told to buy it, and I do what I’m told.

Alas, the Calvin Klein(!) skinny jeans(!!!!!) are still in the bag. They will have to be hemmed. And also they will have to be come-to-terms-with. (I own skinny jeans. I own skinny jeans. I own skinny jeans.) Perhaps I’ll blog about those in a few ~~years~~ ~~months~~ weeks.

In the meantime, bonus lessons for you!

Friday night, I was out with Megalu, one of my makeup teachers and no slouch in the fashion department herself. In fact, now that I think about it, Meg was the one the night of the makeup tutorial who, right before we headed out, said, “Ame… do you have a… different sweater?” And I was all, “Do what?” And then she and Kate bippity-boppity-booed me, and that’s when I realized I didn’t know how to dress myself. Eureka, mofos, she’s the one who started this whole fashion business!

Anyway, Meg noticed my new Curvy Boot-Cuts, and we started talking about my endeavors.

Meg: Are you having any fun with it?

Me: I mean, sometimes I feel good when I know I’m wearing a legit outfit, but a lot of the time I feel really insecure. I just don’t understand how this stuff works. I’m not playing dumb—I seriously don’t get it. Swear to god, it’s renewed my empathy for my special ed kids. Kate and Michelle were explaining why I couldn’t wear my skinny jeans with short boots, and I just could. not. get it. And some of the outfits Kate laid out for me break rules that I learned when I was a kid. Like, she put the white and polka-dot camisole and the cream sweater together, but I was always told you’re not supposed to wear white and cream together.

Meg: Yeah, that’s OK now. So is black and brown.

Me: What about black and navy?

Meg: That’s OK too.

Me: (aghast) NO.

Meg: And don’t match your purse to your shoes.

Me: But should I still match my scrunchy socks to my oversize t-shirt?

Me & Meg: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

So many lessons.

Last lesson: Salesgirls at Nordstrom are snotty. [That’s one for women of any shape. You’re welcome.]

Retrobruxist Friday 4/12/13, Also SAD, Moreover I Probably Don’t Have Nose Cancer

On Wednesday, after three days of finding it extremely easy to be nice to my students without even faking it, which is what I had been having to do, and this despite having to get up at stupid:30 a.m. after a long and luxurious spring break, I realized something:

A whole bunch of people said they could relate to that statement, which made me wonder, how I/we might deal with this problem in the future.

Things that might help:

Awareness? Is there a service that will email me, “Easy there, Ame; you’ve got the SAD,” every week from November to March for the rest of my life?
Moving to the Equator?
Seasonal meds? Is that a thing? Do people dose up on Celexa during non-Daylight Savings Time?

Things that don’t help:

Light box. I have one. It’s in my shed. I have to be at work at 7:15, so getting up 30 minutes earlier to sit in front of a light box? Ain’t nobody got time for that.

I was telling a friend about this problem today, and he says he uses a light—wait for it—VISOR. Like a light box, but FOR YOUR HEAD. Hahahaha.

Other thoughts?

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Three years ago, I was writing a lot about my students, so it’s all password-protected, but here’s a good one if you have the password.

Two years ago, I offered you all an obscene sum for a simple, simple task, and you FAILED. YOU’RE ALL FAILURES.

One year ago, I bought a new car! I love it. It is covered in dog hair and nose prints.

Apropos of nothing, you guys would tell me if you thought I had nose cancer, right? I seem to have a growth on the left side of my nose that’s been getting bigger for a few years. Probably just a wort, right? Because I’m a spinster, and spinsters get those.

Happy Retrobruxist Friday, y’all.

Group of Disabled Mice Assaulted by Local Woman after Misunderstanding

Durham, N.C. – A chilling scene greeted local police when they arrived at the home of Agnes McDonald, wife of famed Old McDonald, after a frantic 911 call from the woman on Friday evening. Three visually impaired rodents were found to have been maimed with a Ginso carving knife, their tails severed, allegedly at the hands of Mrs. McDonald herself.

Worst of all, the incident seems to have been a result of a misunderstanding. When they heard the footsteps of a human coming into the kitchen, the mice, all of whom are legally blind, ran in the direction of their mouse hole. Having been on a two-week vacation in a neighboring home, however, the mice were unaware that the McDonalds had recently remodeled their kitchen. An obstacle (the new center island) blocked their path and forced them to run along its edge, directly toward the woman of the house.

Upon seeing the rodents, Mrs. McDonald became frightened. “I saw this gang of pests running toward me,” she told the investigator. “I didn’t know they were blind. I just thought they had a crazy look in their eyes.”

Fearing for her safety, she pulled a knife out of the knife block and whacked off each mouse’s tail. “I didn’t want to kill them,” she said further, “but I wasn’t about to let a gang of varmints overrun my house.”

The mice were rushed to a local veterinary hospital, where their tails were reattached successfully. The authorities have deemed the incident a case of self-defense. Upon hearing that no charges were filed against Mrs. McDonald and that they themselves might be charged with trespassing, the mice responded, “Of course we don’t think justice has been served!” They intend to sue the McDonalds in civil court.

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I assigned the kids to write a newspaper article based on a nursery rhyme or folk song. That’s the example I wrote for them.

To help them get started, I came up with headlines for other nursery rhymes and folk songs. First person to identify them all gets the grand prize: a cyber high-five from me.

Murine Citizen—Innocent Bystander, or Clock Vandal?
Near Drowning at Local Water Source
Area Woman Attempts Murder of Boyfriend While Hiking, Nearly Kills Self
Dairy-Loving Witness Intimidated with Arachnid
Police Investigate Chilling Ovine Theft/Maiming
Woman Framed for Destruction of Iconic Bridge?
Area Young Sheep: Devoted Pet, or Deranged Stalker?
Local Woman’s State Fair Ribbons Stripped After Plant-Doping Accusations
Bone Thief at Large; Octogenarian Victim Speaks Out
Area Man Arrested After False-Gourd-Imprisonment of Spouse
Elderly, Boot-Dwelling Mom Convicted of Child Abuse
Case of Extreme Hunger, Animal Cruelty, or Psychosis?: Police Baffled

Bonus cyber high-five to anyone who writes an article.

Protected: How About a Refund

I’m cooking! I cook! I’m a cooker!

This afternoon I made breakfasts, lunches, and dinners for the week. I win everything.

Let’s start with breakfasts. Take eight eggs, scramble ’em. Mix ’em with half an onion (diced), a cup of chopped spinach, some salty-pepper, and either cheese or crumbled bacon or chopped up breakfast links. (I’ve done all three. The only one that didn’t work was when, instead of tossing in crumbled bacon, I decided to line the cups with bacon strips. I’d seen it in a magazine or something. I ended up with perfectly cooked eggy cups wrapped in mostly raw bacon. Mmm, trichinosis.) Fill sprayed muffin tin cups about 2/3 of the way full. Bake at 350 for half an hour. Voila!

Then, the old standby, magic çoup.

Nom nom f-bomb. — So remember when I had norovirus? Yeah, this çoup was amongst the things that I barfed up, so I was worried my palate would say NOPE, but phew. Still delicious.

And now for the pièce de frickin résistance: crispy slow cooker carnitas.

It was a little touch-and-go there for a minute at the end because the recipe asked for broiling. But once I figured out where the broiler was (It’s that drawer! Under the oven! That’s not just storage!) and got Redford’s giant skull out of the way, I was broiling! I broiled! I’m a broiler!

I wanna kiss you all over. And over and again. I wanna kiss you all over. Till the night closes in. — I wanna kiss you all over/And over and again/I wanna kiss you all over/’Til the night closes in.

I put it with a little chopped cilantro and white onion and some tortilla chips.

'TIL THE NIGHT CLOSES IN. — ‘TIL THE NIGHT CLOSES IN.

Protected: Jeffrey

Whoa, Almost Forgot Retrobruxist Friday 4/5/13

Three years ago, I did laughter yoga. It was real dumb, and I kind of loved it.

I was lamenting the need to go pants shopping two years ago, but I have come a long way, you guys. I went jeans shopping on Wednesday with Kate and Michelle (blog post surely to come), and I bought jeans, and I BOUGHT SKINNY JEANS WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAA?

You heard me.

To blog about dating or not to blog about dating: that was the question I was asking myself a year ago. Clearly the answer is uh durrrrrr, of course.

Happy Retrobruxist Friday, y’all.