Costume One
Total spent to date: $81 (!)
Still need to buy: footwear
Remaining work: finish sewing costume; practice makeup; build/practice headwear
Costume Two
Total spent to date: $13
Still need to buy: fabric for costume, fabric for accessories, trim for accessories, spray paint
Remaining work: sew costume, sew accessories, cast/sculpt/paint jewelry
You’re certain to be the center of attraction… when you step out in an Olds.
For owning an Olds sets you apart as someone special. And naturally so.
Wow, look at that fabulous 1957 Oldsmobile Golden Rocket 88 Holiday Coupé! Cars don’t come in that size any more. Or that color, which is too bad. A Prius or a Smart might only be the size of this car’s hood, but they’d still look awesome in this shade of mint sherbet green. Enjoy the sculptured lines of this car. The tasteful use of chrome. The beautiful floor-to-ceiling, wall-size windows of that Barbie Dream House. And look how happy the party-goers are!
Wait a minute.
What the hell are these people doing? Ms. Britches and I tried to piece it all together. The pretty blonde gal in the lilac dress? She just hit her knee, hard, against that giant, steel car door. But she’s so drunk as to think it’s funny (until that bruise shows up tomorrow). The two men in sportcoats are checking the time, desperate to get their wives home before they drink even more, because these women have to be in good enough shape to make a fresh, delicious pot of coffee in the morning, as well as eggs and bacon and toast. It just won’t do, to have the girls moaning and groaning with hangovers. And how about that amputee hunchback lurching toward the car? She’s… Um she’s… Well, we couldn’t decide what the hell she’s doing.
What do you think?
My real neighbors (take THAT, Dave and Jessi!) are back in town for a couple of days. I spent a good chunk of Thursday with them, which was a lot of fun. We drove up to Boulder to grab some lunch, and as usual, the weather in Boulder was about 2 degrees warmer than absolutely perfect. So we walked around for a while, popping into various stores along the Pearl Street Mall. We played with EVERY SINGLE wind-up toy in Into The Wind. For some reason which is still unclear to me, although much appreciated, they gave me a Home Depot gift card. I immediately spent it on a new front porch light fixture and a neato programmable switch. The way I have it set, the light comes on at dusk but goes off at 11 instead of staying on ALL FRIGGIN’ NIGHT until dawn. Now that I have the new fixture installed… it looks kinda small. I don’t exactly have a grand entrance, but this light looks like it’s scaled for a dollhouse. Also, a CFL sticks out of the bottom a bit. I may have to uninstall and return it. :|
I have been sleeping funny-peculiar, and that combined with this whole unemployed-and-trying-to-freelance-for-reals thing is taking a toll on my neck and shoulders. In a stroke of good luck, my favorite massage therapist, who moved to L.A. a while back, is in Denver this weekend. Shout out to seeing Carrie, good conversation, and getting that gnarly knot out of my neck!
My father is coming up to visit next weekend, and, as per usual, my house is a MESS. It boggles the mind, how quickly I manage to clutter this place up.
Eric Laufer, lead singer for the Two Timin’ Four, was killed in an early-morning hit-and-run in Austin on Thursday. His body was found nearly a mile away from his bike. I am sickened.
ADDENDUM: It was Eric’s bike that was dragged that distance, not Eric. The events are still tragic, though slightly less horrific.
Filed under family, friends, life-threatening clutter
Everywhere there’s lots of piggies
Living piggy lives
— George Harrison
Mmmmmmeat. I love meat. Beef, pork, chicken, turkey, fish, shellfish, ostrich, elk, rattlesnake, buffalo… all have crossed my plate. My favorite meal at Redfish used to be the carpaccio appetizer followed by the elk medallion entrée. (They also made a fabulous nut-crusted grouper. None are on the menu any longer.)
Separate thought: I’ve always been an ecologically-minded gal, so I knew that I would score pretty well on one of those online “What’s your eco-footprint?” tests. I recycle, I drive a car that gets good gas mileage, I turn off lights (CFL!) when I’m not in the room, I keep my programmable thermostat set to moderate temperatures, I buy wind power from my local utility, I turn down my hot water heater when I go on vacation.
But I eat meat.
Not just some meat, a lot of meat. Practically every meal. And my eco-footprint? It was through the roof. It takes an awful lot of feed to raise cattle, and it takes an awful lot of land to grow that feed, and it takes an awful lot of petroleum to plant and tend and harvest that feed.
And then there’s this: I have family in Kansas. To visit them, I drive through miles and miles (and miles) of farmland. Crops. Pastures. And feedlots. I usually make the trek for Christmas, when the December chill keeps the feedlot “aroma” at bay. But I drove out once in the summertime for my great-grandmother’s 90-somethingth birthday, and holy mother of God, there is nothing that shorts out synapses like the stench of 80,000 head of cattle on a feedlot in August. My eyes were watering. All the muscles in my face were trying to escape through my ears. My brain began to fight, and wouldn’t let my lungs inhale until suffocating was the only other option. It was disgusting.
Still, I ate meat. Lots and lots of meat.
It wasn’t until I read The Omnivore’s Dilemma that I began to really, truly consider the life of the animal. I knew that American cattle are fed a diet that is very heavy on corn, but I didn’t know that they can’t actually digest it. And so, in order to feed corn to cattle, we also have to pump them full of drugs so that the corn doesn’t kill them. Now, this does not sound efficient to me, but I’m not a rancher. It sure as hell doesn’t sound sustainable. It does sound… stupid. Really, really, stupid. I read about Polyface Farms, where pastures and crops are rotated in order to keep the earth healthy, just like I learned in elementary school. Poultry and livestock roam freely in their pastures, living the lives that chickens and cows naturally live. And everything works hand in hand, like a little machine o’ nature, to keep things going. I admitted to myself (and unenthusiastically to my frienemy, Jack) that hunting, when practiced with care, provides meat from an animal that has most lived that animal’s natural life.
It was all too much to disregard. If ignorance is bliss, education is vegetarian.
I decided to go “flexitarian.” I would eat meat, but only meat that was “humanely” raised. And, while there are plenty of restaurants and markets in Denver that agree with my beliefs, I live in the suburbs. It’s easier to claim vegetarian than to make a fuss or explain this long-winded story to whomever I’m with. So, that’s exactly what I do. Life is easier that way. The rules are clearer, and my dining decisions are cut-and-dried. (Ironic, that.)
Separate thought: One of the few remaining Albertson’s supermarkets isn’t far from The Company Formerly Known As My Employer, and I ran in today to check for Spade-L seasoning (no) and to pick up lunch. While looking through the deli case for an egg salad sandwich, I saw that they had 1-lb. rolls of TAYLOR HAM. TAYLOR FRIGGIN’ HAM. John Taylor Pork Roll. Remember the boxes of Taylor ham that my cousin bought for me back in May? The boxes that I flew home with from New Jersey? Because I can’t get Taylor ham out here? They’re still sitting in my freezer. I haven’t had the nerve to actually thaw and cook them. Because then I would have no Taylor ham! But here is a whole roll of Taylor ham, packed tightly into its fetching, red-and-white canvas sleeve.
Yeah, I had four slices of Taylor ham for dinner tonight. It was crispy on the edges, but tender and salty and juicy with fat. (Oh jeez, the fat. If only it were negated by the nitrates.) It was delectable. Delicious. Succulent. Oh, it was so very, very good. I am sorry, little piggies, for the perverted lives you probably led before heading to the slaughterhouse. I hope there is some karmic consolation that the pork roll you wound up in is so very, very tasty.
By Tiddleywink
If I were still in school, in my old school district, the first day of classes would be Wednesday. I’d have a new notebook (I prefer the blue, cloth-bound binders to the noisy-Velcro® Trapper Keepers), some new BIROs (black, medium point; they’re now know as Round Stic by Bic), a fresh haircut, and a new outfit or two.
But I’m not in school any more.
I did get a new pair of knee socks from Target, and had my bangs trimmed at Floyd‘s. I also bought two more vintage hats, and a vintage winter coat from the thrift store. I splurged on six completely unnecessary votive candles in one of my favorite scents (Pier 1’s “oceans”) at 50% off. I swept the patio, I pulled weeds, I turned the compost pile, I emptied the rusty water out of the definitely-not-made-of-copper firepit. I looked, yet again, for red dice.
I intended to build the final page of my online portfolio, and make more hair flowers to sell for a little extra cash, but instead spent the time alloted for both tasks repairing existing Web pages on my site which ALL had tiny glitches. Strange characters, missing type, randomly resized images. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: good Web pages are created by good programmers. I am not a good programmer. There are folks out there who can code HTML, who are as comfortable in Dreamweaver and GoLive as I am in InDesign or QuarkXPress. I can come up with a half-baked idea, but I should leave it to someone else to make it work. A good programmer costs a lot more than a thrift-store coat, though, so I muddle through. And, now that the other pages are all straightened out, I’ll be able to focus on that One Last Page before I make the site public. And impress people with my mad skillz, thus encouraging folks to hire me for their freelance needs, so I can trade ‘Working For The Man’ for ‘Buying My Own Health Insurance.’
And you know what? It’s almost Halloween! To be continued…
Filed under gardening, nostalgia, the office, vintage
shoes and pie 