Funny how something that is so good for you can sometimes be the thing you avoid the most. Think leafy greens, exercise and getting enough sleep.
Or, in this case, blogging.
This used to be the place I went everyday to share. Stupid stuff, fun stuff, not so fun stuff… time to cry stuff. It grounded me. It was my constant. It was the receptacle for all things Amy. The good, the bad and the ugly.
I have tried to come back here more than once, but I guess I just was not ready.
Funny thing is that I still think in blog posts (and t-shirt quotes). Things will happen, I will see stories that I have plenty of commentary on. But committing fingers to keyboard has been a tough one. The worst part is the hundreds of ridiculous photos I have taken and never shared. Or shared briefly on instagram without my warped analysis.
What has changed? I am hitting a milestone. One that has me simultaneously more rocked and infinitely more grounded than I expected. So it seems as a good time as any to try to commit again. It is all part of the package of time to ground.
To write.
To make you laugh.
And cry.
Because when you don’t have the time, is when you need to make it the most.
Sometimes you need to go home again. Whatever home means.
I can’t stay asleep. I have a sinus infection with laryngitis.
ME. With laryngitis.
Do the math on that one!
You know the drill on sleeping with this stuff. You pass out and then you snore or hack yourself awake, leaving sleep a thing of the past. I usually read when I wake up, but the combination of my cement head and the fact that my snoring has sent Gary running for the hills (or Jana’s room) for a good night sleep, have led me to late night TV. It beats ruminating in the middle of the night – my other favorite insomniac pastime (don’t believe anything you think about in the middle of the night).
For your reading pleasure, here is a list of what is on in the middle of the night:
Marriage Boot Camp: Reality Stars (Get naked, get truly naked)
Little Women: LA(yes this is about midgets and yes I know that term is horrifyingly not PC… blame the illness)
Mob Wives: The Antisocial Network(and I quote: “She has cancer… she’s stage fucking 4! I don’t want nothing from this rat bitch) Note to self: start using the term ‘rat bitch’.
Hardcore Pawn(one of my all-time faves)
There are countless otherworld shows: American Supernatural, The Haunting in Connecticut and Trance, which is a lively show where they hypnotize people and interview them. Who wouldn’t love that?
But the one that was truly like watching the accident was… drumroll please:
My 600 Lb. Life. WTF?! This is a reality show about the morbidly obese. I could not change the channel. That is not until I witnessed a visiting nurse lifting an enormous fat flap of a bed ridden mom on oxygen in a hospital bed in her living room who had just sent her enabling spouse out grocery shopping. She was treating a cellulitis wound caused by fat folds! And they zoomed in. This is just not right for me to witness. The mom’s goal was to get out of bed in time to trick or treat with her son. I can’t even!
I think I need to start the hashtag #insomniaquestions. At the very least I should start a column called MFTATV. (Magnet for the Aburd Television)
Now if you’ll excuse me I need to watch back to back reruns of Will and Grace and Sex in the City.
Sitting in my warm house (so far), we are hunkering down for what the media has whipped us all in a frenzy about: Winter Storm Juno.
Preying on the PTSD of a still Sandy-shocked population, they have had a field day with this one, and the supermarkets were evidence of that. I will share two observations and then I am off to start some serious drinking.
First, the empty bread shelves in the supermarket. I live in an area where more people are living a gluten-free, carb-free life than I care to think about. Why then, are the bread shelves in the supermarket close to empty. I predict there is going to be a lot of closet gluten-rich activity going on out there through this storm, no? Oy, the inflammation!
Second, is the insane desire to make sure one has eggs, bread and milk in the house at all times. What is this? Is there a direct correlation between a pending storm and the need to eat french toast?
As my dear friend Joanne pointed out just around the time that she talked me off the ledge about my Snow Warrior husband having left too late and being caught on the road forever, this is a misguided list. There are, in fact, 3 things that one must have in a storm, but they are not eggs, bread and milk… they are wine, toilet paper and coffee.
Indeed.
Stay safe everyone, and I will see you on the other side. Hopefully with power.
There are people in your life that know you to the core, and as they say, love you anyway. You have a common past and a shared commitment to one another that is unshakeable. I like to refer to these friends as the ones you call, ask them to bring a shovel and they, in turn, ask no questions (not that I have ever done this, but it is good to know).
I am fortunate to say that I have a solid pool of these type of friends and never does a day go by that I do not feel grateful for that. There are three of them that have been in my life since I was in 6th grade. I was a latecomer to this group; they all know each other since kindergarten! Whenever we get the chance, which is not often enough, we go for a ‘reset’. Sometimes it is just a dinner, but when we are lucky it is a weekend. I recommend reset for everyone. It is the best therapy, the most laughs and reminds you WHY (in caps and the all-encompassing why).
This past weekend we reset. With party favors! Gee Your Hair Smells Terrific was the shampoo of our adolescence. We were obsessed with this product. If social media existed back then this product would have broken the internet. One of the reset girls found this online and ordered a bottle for each of us (Ron, I believe I took yours home, sorry). The sight of that packaging brought back a flood of shared memories and cemented our connection once again.
Gee my friends are terrific (yes, corny wrap-up). Ok, I will try again. Without these 3, life itself would be utter chaos, even though sometimes we are the cause of each other’s chaos. We stage interventions, big and small, tell each other the things we don’t want to hear but need to and problem solve (ad nauseum). But must important, we laugh, to the point of tears. (yes, that is this blog’s tagline).
What a great idea. Relatively harmless, it is perfect for someone who has annoyed you to no end. And of course those who want to fight like fairies. Or for those of you out there who get furious but no one really knows (and you know who you are).
Ten bucks, no muss no fuss… on your end. For the enemy… it is the gift that keeps on giving. Or as the site refers to it, passing along ‘the craft herpes’.
Why did I not think of this? As the craft household when the kids were little, glitter was consider a condiment. You can never get rid of that stuff.
I am so not about retaliation, I would rather move on than let people get the best of me. But, believe me, in the heat of the moment I can rant like no other. Perhaps this is a nice alternative to raising the old blood pressure.
The site is quite something. You can be sure the people who came up with this have been dissed in their day – lots of cursing a and calling people names just to fuel the fire. Don’t miss the reviews page, because it is good to know that snorting glitter will make your nose bleed.
This man is an actor. He fuckin’ wants to act. Cast him.
Indeed. Let’s cut right to the chase, shall we?
I love this guy even if I have no clue how to pronounce his last name. Fabrice Yahyaoui seems like the type of guy who will not take no for an answer. Talk about passion and nerve! This poster was plastered on the outside of a bus shelter in the East ’30s. I became intrigued and did a little research on him. He posts these all over the world.
The quote from the video below that hit home for me was this one:
“In life you have to fight. He doesn’t give up. I want him to make it.”
Me too!
We can laugh. And maybe ponder that this guy is a little crazy, but I applaud his method and hope it gets him work. It is this kind of risk-taking that sets you apart. He makes me want to root for him. I want to see this guy succeed. If I were a casting agent I am not sure if I could resist the curiosity to call this guy in. He certainly seems to have a myriad of looks, and definitely has the fire in his belly to work.
Hey Fabrice, I hope you have some decent monitoring going on. I would love to hear from you in the comments and find out how things are going.
Or, perhaps the title of this post should be “The Vagina Games”, but that would have been link bait and I am so not about that.
This could be the best kickstarter in… well, ever! SKEA (Smart Kegel Exercise Aid) is a game controller that you insert vaginally. Yes, you read that correctly. You control a mobile game app with your vaginal muscles.
The name of the game that you can control with your wunder down under?
“Alice In Continent”. You have to love these crazy kids.
For those of you of the birthing ilk, you are no strangers to Kegel exercises. These help strengthen your pelvic floor muscles, keeping the ole bladder in shape and bringing your love nest back to its original splendor after you have given birth. I would imagine this item is perfect for the woman with a Herculean Hey-Nanny-Nanny; and certainly for those who like to kill Zombies with their lady bits. (How much slang DO you think I can use in this post? And is it bad for the ads I will be served this week that I googled ‘vagina slang’?)
This is perfect for over-worked, under-appreciated mom market: ‘Kids, go do your homework, Mommy has to slay some dragons…’
When I posted this on Facebook I had an overwhelming amount of comments. My fave was from a friend who is a clergy person who said if she saw this she would have thought it was a duck and would have bought it for her mom, the duck collector.
Duck collector, indeed!
Tom Chen, the designer, created this video that is beyond words. I urge you to take a look for yourself. I particularly like his use of water bottles and fruit. His wife called this item ‘humanitarian’ (seriously?). I can’t help but wonder if the typo in Dr. Peng Peng’s title (M.D. in Gynercology) was intentional.
I know, amazing vid, right?
This illustration? I don’t even know what to do with this. Well, yes, I do, but I am way too classy for that.
Ok, so as if this was not fabulous enough right here, you will be happy to know that there have been 4 updates to this product. #4 is my fave.
For those who were thinking the same thing that I was when I first saw this – which means pretty much EVERYONE – you will be happy to hear they have had multiple requests (was ‘multiple; an intentional play on words?) for a SKEA with ‘erotic’ function. They are designing another model ‘that should deliver a decent and adjustable vibration’ and ‘may also develop specific apps that users with different needs can choose…’
Talk about a joystick!
Perfect name for one of those apps… ‘She’s Got Game’, of course.
Cleaning my office the first day back from the holidays, this picture fell out of a file folder onto my keyboard.
The Big 540… my childhood home.
The same house that we sold a few months ago. The process of selling was rather unpleasant, the details remaining unwritten. Use your imagination if you do not know the details. The process of dismantling it was long and arduous, as my parents had lived there for 60 years. But it was a labor of love. By the time we signed on the dotted line it was more of a relief than anything else.
Oddly, a few weeks after closing I had the most bizarre dream. I was showering in my parents’ bathroom and suddenly realized that we no longer owned the house (oops). Yep, wrapped in a towel in someone else’s bathroom and they walked in the back door. The classic version of the ‘I forgot to study for the test’ dream.
A few weeks later I had another dream that I was hanging out in the house and all of the new owners’ relatives started showing up with furniture and started yelling at me and threatening to call the cops. Again, I had forgotten that this was no longer ‘our house’ (yes, I am way crazier than I let on).
I don’t have to be a therapist to know that the loss of this house is obviously effecting me more than I realized. I have never lived without this home – quite something for someone of ‘my age’. This is where I grew up, where the family gathered, where my mom planted. And planted. And planted. Where my history lived in the walls. And although my current home has been in my life almost half as long as this one has, there is something unnerving about losing this place.
I know ‘home’ is not the building. And Lord knows I have brought enough of the stuff from that house here (anyone want to help me go through 14 crates of photos). It is hard to explain how I feel.
Maybe it is simply the knowledge that I can’t go home again.
I want to preface this with the fact that I live in a suburban area known as the North Shore of Long Island. That would be the Nawth Shaw of Long Guyland if you buy into that whole stereotypical dialect thing.
I do not.
This magazine was at the checkout of our local Whole Foods. Modern Farmer? Really? Talk about missing the demographic! There are no farmers in this ‘hood – modern or otherwise. The only thing better than this close-up shot would have been one with a woman dressed to the nines in front of the magazine rack. Keep in mind this particular Whole Foods is across the street from The Miracle Mile, a Rodeo Drive style shopping area.
You’ve heard the expression, “It goes together like donkeys and Manolo Blahniks“, right? Of course, everyone has.
At first I thought this was an Onion type magazine. With that Headline: Donkeys, the new goats. And the Redonkulous seal (with an excellent use of hyphenation)
Other wonderful headlines that are a bit more relatable for this zip code:
Pot Farming Goes Big
How to Grow a Winter Garden (was this the follow-up to the Pot Farming article?)
Drink Bitter Booze (while you are Pot Farming?)
I cannot, for the life of me, explain why I did not pick up a copy of this publication. I would like to point out that if you visit their website there is currently an article titled, New Year’s Resolution: Eat More Squirrel in 2015. Yep, that was definitely on my list this year! You?
I quote:
“Locavores, listen up: if you want to eat non-GMO, antiobiotic- and hormone-free, lean, free range, local, healthy meat, you need to look up. Limb chicken, as squirrels are affectionately known in many hunting circles, is arguably better than grassfed beef or organic pork when it comes to planetary health.”
Affectionately, indeed. Limb chicken… I can’t.
And you are in luck, there is a recipe at the end of the article. (no I am not making this up)
This is a ‘laugh till you cry’ for the last Time to Cry Tuesday of the year. There were so many very poignant things that have happened this holiday season, but for some reason I wanted to end on a funnier note. Too much heavy.
During another fit of house-purging this weekend, I came across this note. It is now hard to tell what came out of my parents’ house and what my mom gave to me over the years. It matters not, for the fact that this has survived all this time is the whole point.
This, my friends, is a peek into the life of Little Amy. By the look of the handwriting – and the fact that I switched classes for English – I would say that this was 7th grade Amy, to be exact. And that would put me in the back of Mrs. Stoudt’s English class next to my friend Kevin. So, I would guess that this was about me… and my big mouth. No surprise that in adolescence I had a tough time keeping the ole trap shut in class. I can still here her stopping class and saying, “Miss Zimmerman and Mr. Marrr-carrr-i… can you pleeeeease stop socializing.’ Hey, we had stuff to talk about! We still do, actually.
Good thing I knew I was ‘100% wrong’ and I had ‘gotten better in the past few weeks.’
Was she mad? I am pretty sure that since she saved this for 40 some-odd years, it is safe to say she was probably more amused than angry.