Reunited

Song: Are you Ready? by Fatty Gets A Stylist

I peek into my local consignment shop Look Twice in Rockville Centre, NY (my other favorite is Revival in Roslyn, NY) and spot a cutie right away. She's on a bar full of crowded hangers but her frilly three quarter sleeve is cut on the bias and dangling at just the right angle. I take her out carefully, she's lace and delicate. I look at her label, she's lace, delicate and Anne Fontaine. Tags on, never been worn. Score. I put her on over my sundress and turn to the shop girl.

"Where." I ask. "Am I wearing her?" 

"Somewhere awesome and soon." She says.

"Totally." I say, noticing the shop girls nineteen-forties style, "Aren't you a kick?"

"Well." She says.

We both laugh.

But it's August and I have no where awesome to go to but the beach and my little Annie would be overdone to say the least. Then I ask myself, "Self, who was I just talking to at the beach about going somewhere?".  I search my brains files....Jeanne Marie... the reunion!

I feel like I see most of my class regularly either by face or facebook and my boyfriend was in another grade, so it's not the type of affair that is weighing heavily on my mind. The reunion, for me, is more like a fun night out than a nerve racking nail biter.  Still, I want to look gewd.

"My twenty year high school reunion is in October!" I say, expecting the shop girl to be just as excited as me.

"Perfect!" She says, just as excited as me. It's not soon, but it's awesome.

It doesn't occur to me until now that its likely sad that I am two months out from having an occassion to wear my killer blouson. Well, not really, sad. Let's not digress.

So. Last week my mom was over and I tried the top on for her. Like I said, it's all lace and well, see- thru.

"It's Anne Fontaine." I say. Staring in the mirror mesmerized, not remembering feeling this way about a shirt. "It's like a $350-$400.00 shirt. I got it for $98.00."

"It's gorgeous." She says, but her face doesn't match her words."What will you wear underneath it?"

I am looking in the mirror at the way the poet collar rolls and falls over me and thinking maybe I could get away with wearing nothing underneath it. We fit so well, it would be a shame to shove a camisol in between us. My head angling left than right. I am not sure I see anything indescent. I think it looks, sexy.

"I don't know, I feel like I might as well, in ten years no ones going to want to look at them anyway."

"I feel like I don't want to look at them now." She says.

I shoot her a snide sideways glance.

"What is that expression you say, "Better to be pitied than censored?"

"Why don't you get a mamogram?" she asks, optimistically.

I turn quickly and glare at her head on.

Now, you may be thinking my mother is clearly suffering a break from reality or merely switching the subject. But I can assure you, she is not. I know exactly where she is headed.

"That's a good idea." I say sarcastically. "I'll go get my ta-ta's clamped in a vice, not because I need a check up...but for the paper pasties they give you during the exam. That's normal."

My mom is laughing. I love hearing her laugh.

My mother laughed the way some ladies do ~ Paul Simon

I want her to laugh harder.

"As opposed to going to Victoria's Secret for ten minutes and twenty bucks and getting something sweet and smooth, I should make a doctors appointment, wait in the waiting room, go through a horrendous boob squishing physical, just for the stiff irritating paper bag cut outs, risking a paper cut." I say, "to wear under my shirt on a big night out!"

She is laughing really hard now. I love hearing her laugh.

"I bet they could get you in this week." she says, dabbing a laugh tear.

"When people ask me why I'm crazy?" I say, "I'm pointing to you."

"Okay" She says, shrugging her slim shoulders, "I don't mind."




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Jogger

Shout out to my marriage, survived and celebrated seven year (itch) Monday October 10, 2011. We went to Great Adventure.  What better way to symbolize our time together than roller coasters? We had a blast. Road everything twice, no kids. The park is surprisingly clean and actually.... pretty! I sware, highly recommend. Oh and bring your wallet and patience, get the fast pass. It's worth it, so awesome to free fall and just be out there.

Anyway, I've mentioned my anxiety and now my roller coaster (haha) so I've started running in the morning, listening to awesome music, Pumped up Kicks, by Foster the People. I love this song so much that when Danny's brother, my kids uncle, bought them white patent leather high tops with black trim and fluorescent piping, I nearly cried. Tears of joy. Pumped up kicks! I would never and now I love them. Merci amu!
   
Better run, better run, faster than my bullet. 

Will I ever get sick of it? Probably tomorrow. And I'm convinved I've got The Moves Like Jagger and that Whole Food's got the key. So much to dig. Especially the people that are just waking up as I move by. So far there's Pancakes and Secret Smoker.

So dawn is breaking and everytime I get to this house I smell smoke. Cigarette smoke, from the backyard. She must be in the driveway, the person, I think she, cause I just do, cause that isn't now but one day maybe could be me, but for the grace of God. And each time I am surprised. I thought maybe once, a bad day, but nope last four times, thar she blows. And every time I think, really? At seven a.m.? Do people still do this? Seems so 1990's to me and 1950's and like the word jog, and the soda, Tab, 1980's for sure. And I'm in the middle of "i sware i'll behave... take me by the tongue and i'll know you." Feeling as sexy as that song is. And then the smell. And everytime I want to run up her driveway, tell her I can smell it, and demand a drag.

Next is pancakes. A gorgeous front porch, it must be ten feet deep, an old Victorian painted out in rich tans and browns. The woman comes out and walks her long front walkway to retrieve her paper in a velvet brown robe that (coincidentally?) matches the house. She has a big ass and a cozy gait. I can see inside her open door to a dark foyer, opening to rooms on either side, I'm not there long, I'm moving, like I said, but I think I bet she's going in to eat pancakes. I sware you can almost smell the syrup.

More later, I'm so tired. I'm going to listen to my pumped up kicks and hit the hay.

Best all, love you!!

p.s,forgot to mention got rejected by an agent for my new novel, BUT am sending out a tape to a big agent, who will look at moi.  it's an introduction through a friend, i hope i don't disappoint.  i think i'll post the link to my audition here if its good enough. Kinda freaked out, and would love feedback. But then i'm also like whatever, I have nothing to lose so why not risk it? Do you know what I mean? No seriously? Do you? Where are you not risking and should be? Or risking too much?

Crazy right? Peace and stay in the day.

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Courage!

SO. Steve Jobs passed. I've been thinking about the word courage. I'm not sure I am capable of the amount of courage it takes to stand up and be what you believe or who you are everyday. But I know I admire most those that do. And then I was thinking of the small moments of what that would take and what it means. And that this post would be about saluting all of those who did that, every day, every moment in a world where it is always easier to put your head under the covers and claim noncompliance, or compliance but no real speakable, or noncommendable and then commendable voice.So many obvious choices, Bill Gates, Abe Lincoln, Coco Chanel, Steve Jobs, Steve McQueen, Alexander McQueeen, to all the queens, Jim Morrison,  Lady Gaga, The Cure, Madonna, and what the heck, while we're on pop stars, Britney. Then I thought about the men and the women I know who have had courage in so many seemingly small ways; the man who said "I do" when really he meant, "I think I do, but what about her shopping sprees?" The woman who said "I will again." After hearing the words "this is no longer a viable life.", how she knew something closer to terror than she ever imagined in those nine (really ten) months than she ever knew she could possibly withstand and got pregnant again. Or the woman who is knocking on the door to forty and would give anything to hear those words, just once. Or to the woman so close to my heart who determined to say "i do" when no one thought it was a good idea and then goodbye after six kids and forty-five years, sell her house and hear from the "stager" that all her worldly possessions would be better put in boxes as they were looking for a look more suitable to a "contemporary neutral buyer". To my favorite kid at the Duncun Donuts drive thru who has a tattoo on his neck in cursive declaring his birth sign "Capricorn" and who I tell everyday as i pick up my coffee to go, "you are going to be so successful, you're a kid in a world where working here isn't cool, but you're a Capricorn and doing it, SO Cool!" ( he'd be cooler if he gave me free coffee but it never works. jk, kinda.)  To the people who land on their shins one day and show up and say, "hi my name is" when they'd rather drown in vomit. or the man who even though it seems like it's not a big deal in 2011 comes out and say's "i dig dudes."  That's courage. We are all so courageous. Showing up to work, showing up to life. Putting the ring on, taking the ring off. It's a lot. It's not revolutionizing technology, but its the ability to send a forward saying I thought of you today, even though I'd rather tell you off today. To show you care. To risk caring. To say hello, to say goodbye.

So I raise my glass, To Steve Jobs, (that I wish will be filled once again only with sparkling water), to all of you courageous courtiers. Those of us who risk everyday, show courage everyday. I love that. I love you.

Good week all, please feel free to share your courageous moments, I live to hear them, S!



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Get Lost

You disappeared without a trace. As if I meant nothing to you. As if we meant nothing to each other.
At first I wasn't sure if I really lost you. If you were gone for good. I tried calling you, again and again, walking from room to room. I'd think he's here, he's got to be in here. Just one more time, please, answer me and be here.  Of course, you never picked up. How could you? I was devastated. I am devastated, still, even though anyone with eyes would think I never cared, that you had been easily replaced. But if you showed up tomorrow I'd gladly return what I have to get you back. What I have now looks better, shinier and new, but it's not the same. So much was lost when I lost you, the images, the memories. The agony of your betrayal. I put you in my world, an all access pass, whoever I knew, you knew. You were with me all the time, we were together all the time. How did I become so careless? I took my eyes off of you for one minute and....

Everything we had was lost in that instant. I must have replayed that night in my head a hundred thousand times. I can never figure it out. It makes no sense. You were there and then you weren't.

But I should have seen the signs You stopped taking my calls as often, you started dropping off as if you couldn't quite hear me anymore. When I grabbed you, you'd freeze and I'd have to backtrack, massage you to get you to act normal again. When our time together used to typically be so easy, now it was strained. I see that now. I didn't want to then. I wanted it to work.

Oh, cell phone. I miss the way you buzzed in my purse. The way you took pictures and videos so easily, capturing all of my favorite moments, moments with my family, friends, pets, clothes, the new bathroom. It had been so long since I backed you up, again, I know that is my fault. I got careless, took you for granted. And now all the pictures of the boys with the new baby are memories in my head, never to be seen in a frame other than my mind. Oh me oh my. Why? Why? Why?

But you know what? I'm done with you anyway.  I've got a newer version, that can actually work in the dark, unlike you, who stammered around half blind, missing everything.  Plus, my case is better, its a hard one and way better than that floppy rubbery thing you used. Who needs you anyway? Not me. I'm glad you got lost, stay lost! "Lose" er!

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