Friday night could not come fast enough this week, and with it came a lovely bottle of Ramsay Pinot Noir. This bottle was quite delicious. I highly recommend it.
As if drinking a nice bottle of wine over dinner on a rainy night with my husband and son was not pure heaven enough, this label topped it all off. For those reading on a mobile, here is what it says:
Even though I know how to use a Smartphone, I’d still rather go dancing than watch television, and I find nothing more satisfying than singing with my friends next to a fire. We are here so briefly that missing a single opportunity to connect with people seems a crime. That’s why we drink wine – it softens the hardness of the day and loosens our tongues so that we may confide in a friend, share the day’s events with a spouse, or sparkle with a lover over a romantic dinner. That is why we are alive – to be together.
This is the lid to my cottage cheese. Not Gary’s cottage cheese – mine.
His? Plenty of salt. Like ridiculous amounts of salt. 480 mg to be exact (in resistant hypertension language that is like putting a gun in your mouth with every spoon). Who knew?!
Since I barely survived the holiday season and this ridiculous BP roller coaster has started its miserable incline again, I have decided to eat as clean as possible. Salt-free is nearly impossible out, so during the week I eat home and try to be really good. I have to say, I truly appreciated the camaraderie that Friendship fostered with the lid of this cottage cheese. It’s like some brand manager out there totally gets what a drag a no salt diet is like and wanted to make me smile.
So I bought it. Truth be told, cottage cheese really does need the sodium to taste good. But let’s face it, it’s cottage cheese. It’s really all about the texture. And I appreciate the brand sympathy.
Nice work Friendship, you have made a friend in me.
I love New York. And I equally love the ish of life. As I was parking my car today I came across this street sign. Who knew 6th Avenue had an ish… a half. A sort of in between 6th and 7th sort of street that had no purpose other than to install a stop sign (yes, a stop sign in the middle of a midtown cross street!). You know, because as the sign says, it is a Pedestrian Arcade. Really? I saw no such arcade. A lovely little restaurant with a Quinoa Bar but no arcade that I could see. A little space between 2 buildings with some cement seating and potted trees. But an arcade? Nah.
Nonetheless, the existence of a halfavenue that I never knew about made me realize that every day has a little surprise if you look.
NYC trivia… name the street this is on. (no prizes other than being able to boast about what a New Yorker you are).
No, I am not 74, but the lunatic sitting next to me at the doc’s office today is. It was if the universe gave him the same appointment time as I had because it knew what a great blog post he would make. Some quotes from the dear man with my comments in italics:
“I am 74. Why would I buy a car? I lease. If I drop dead, they just take the car back.” (not so funny at a cardiologist’s office)
“I can’t believe they are legalizing pot, now all the potheads are going to be walking around all over the place” (as opposed to being locked up in jail where they belong because all they did was get high?)
And my all time fave:
“When I heard about the new gun laws I went out and bought 11 guns and 2,000 rounds of ammo.” (now this one made me want to revert to the first quote and hope for the best)
No, I do not go to the cardiologist in the back woods… this was on the North Shore of Long Island! WTH?
(Don’t worry, I did not take a picture of this crazy man, this is stock… but it sort of looks like him)
Actually, that’s misleading. They were on sale for $89, so we bought 3 pounds.
Just kidding.
This big ole bucket of probably 5 grand wortth of ‘shrooms was sitting there just waiting for me to take its picture. Do you think they put them on sale because they were not moving fast enough?
I am unclear about what would make these mushrooms worth that kind of money.
Six was pretty perfect. Obviously from this picture I was sure I was all that. This is such an amazing shot. Hey, it got over 50 likes on Facebook in less than 24 hours! I told Gary today I think I might have peaked at six!
All kidding aside, I had the most amazing childhood. And this picture seems to embody it all. I know those are my eyes. I remember her. The way she lounged on that couch and maybe ate a little chocolate pudding out of one of those fabulous green square glass bowls. Or one of the white milk glass ones with the gold rim. My brother and I didn’t realize that this life was not the norm at the time, but as we grow older we appreciate how wonderful it was to grow up in our house.
And now that house has sort of outlived its happiness for our family. It’s not that it has lost its beautiful memories, it is just time. The master of its charm has left the building, and so now, must the contents of a lifetime. It’s an interesting task. One that uncovers the treasures of the past buried amongst the bowling balls, slide projectors and ice skates from the 1960s. I have just begun, and I am sure there will be many tears and equally as many laughs as we dismantle what was for me, the most wonderful place on earth.
Thanks Dad, for giving me this task. Don’t feel bad about it. Don’t worry about the time it will take. You know this is my process. And you have earned the rest.
What does worry me a little is that closet in the garage, though. Mom always told me if she had a third child after raising me she would lock it in the garage closet… she was kidding, right?
This post is a little gift for my big bro, for he will love this the most.
A note to preface my infantile ramblings; I grew up in a house where we never tired of bathroom humor. Or bathroom discussion, for that matter. The planet Uranus always got a laugh and was constantly used out of context. There has been major discussion about the quality and frequency of voiding one’s bowels; including joy, empathy and shared enthusiasm over each swing of regularity. Frequency was of the utmost awe-inspiring of discussions. Yes, I am sure a shrink could have a picnic with us.
Come to think of it, my parents never really contributed much to this conversation, so I guess this is more a sibling thing. Although later in life I have to admit my mom did join the discussion often. As the kids grew up they embraced this odd family tradition. Marrying into this is not easy. Gary, well, of course he jumped right in. But my poor sister-in-law did not like this one bit. Poor thing, she was cursed with two sons that brought this to new heights. One of whom, I might add coined the term ‘doody baby’ when he had gone a particularly long time without going. We actually have a full vocabulary based on this topic.
Enter the newest member of the family, my new niece… she vows that she will put an end to this age old tradition. A very strong woman indeed, but no match for our love of bathroom humor. I predict she will be joining in soon enough.
Which brings me to the photo. This bathroom resides at the old Pfizer building in Brooklyn. Yes, all the stalls were numbered, it wasn’t as if this was the only one designated for making “#2”. But the fact that I serendipitously wound up with this stall simply had to be fate, no? Of course I had to take this picture… it was my obligation. I mean, I am the one who has brought you such posts as We are #1…, It’s Toilet Season, Toilet Paper Advertising Smackdown and my absolute favorite Can it Fit in a Toilet?
You could say I am a professional bathroom blogger. Perhaps I should start a new blog dedicated to the topic. Hmmm… names? WhoGives a Sh*t? or maybe Give a Sh*t! is more positive. Or how about Here’s the Poop. Any other suggestions? Show me some love for coming back to blogging and give me some names in the comments.
Seriously, Chock Full o’ Nuts, the Energy Blend? We now need a Red Bull version of our morning joe? I saw this on the shelf next to the dark roast, ½ caff, regular, flavored, robust roast… you get what I mean. This is like liquid speed disguised an innocent cup of coffee. I fear the results. Yet I am sure there is a big market for this heart racer. I mean, hey, who doesn’t need at least twenty percent more energy?
I, for one, am a ½ caff kinda girl. And even that is too much for most people who talk to me early in the morning. I believe there would be a special request from most of my friends and colleagues that I never let this ‘Energy’ version pass my lips. I am afraid the top of my head would blow off.
Although it would be interesting to see how many words per minute I could speak on this stuff…
As you may know, I am all about girl power. I have raised a strong daughter and a son who has a healthy respect for women who feel good about themselves. We take pride in feeling good about who we are and blah, blah, blah blah, blah… This post features two women who surely take their ideas of strong body image to new places.
Lovely painting, no? Pretty colors. Interesting textures. Makes you feel sort of warm and happy and optimistic about your day, right? And the best part about this baby is it was painted by boobies.
Ok, sort of an infantile thing to say. But seriously, all I had to do was vow to blog again and that old Magnet For The Absurd kavorka reactivated like you won’t believe. First, I signed onto Facebook today to find this post about boob painting from Taxi, one of my favorite sites.
Yes, boob painting. Marcey Hawk, a rather well endowed young woman, has chosen to take her two best assets and use them to paint with, taking the idea of body painting to a whole new level. This chick certainly is creative. I won’t get into her different methods here, you can read about them over on that Taxi post. The paintings are actually not bad and some of the world’s most famous bad boys are collectors.
As most of my early mornings are spent with post sharing – some professional, some just entertaining – I shared this one. Little did I know that one of my favorite cybergurls would counterpost me in the comments with one of the more outrageous things I have ever seen. And you know me, I thrive on the outrageous. Not easy to make me both wish I had unseen something and be ever so grateful that she shared it.
This one comes with a warning, it is surely not for the faint of heart. You see, as they used to say when I was in High School… tits are for kids. This, my friends, is a video about Vaginal Knitting.
No you did not read that wrong, this crazy Aussie is a ‘performer craftivist’ who spent 28 days in a gallery knitting from a skein of wool that she inserts in… her hey nanny nanny, so to speak. My favorite quote:
It’s unusual and confining. It’s restrictive, but no, it’s not painful. People push babies out of there, it’s a pretty robust area.
Robust indeed.
Honestly, even if I had not decided to blog again, this one would have taken me out of hibernation.
This clock hangs in my office where I can see it all the time. It really has nothing to do with time, or time in the normal sense of the word. Like most things in my life, it is about the messaging. What can I say, I am at heart, a hopeless communicator.
This clock is even more special because it was birthday gift from my girls. The ones who know I am not a big fan of celebrating my birthday on a good year, but on a not so good one it was sort of out of the question.
Luckily I opened this when I was alone. And they were right. They are my guides. They know that when I said – or worse – believed that I was ok, it was not remotely true. But now, I am reminded by them everyday that…
Everything.
IS.
going.
to.
be.
ok.
Just a different kind of ok.
I am not a big fan of New Year’s resolutions, but this year I made one: to blog again. Because here is where I see the world in its most ‘ok’ form; where I share the absurdities and observations that we all see, but I make a point to acknowledge. For no other reason than to entertain, to ground, to lighten up… to be ok.
Because sometimes we need to laugh… to the point of tears.
Welcome back everyone. Wishing you all a very happy new year filled with good things and the strength to deal with the not so good ones.
i could cry but i don't have time 