the cat's pajamas

Last night I was reading the current issue of Time and was pleased to note that a trend has at long-last caught up with me. That trend is pajamas. I've always been a huge fan of p.j.'s, and evidently now it's considered hip and acceptable to wear them not only to bed, but also out in public. There are some standards, though. While these babies certainly are pretty, I wouldn't exactly consider them "sleepwear", and I wouldn't leave the house in them (unless covered up by a trench coat or something, but that's a whole different story...) I would live in Old Navy's pajamas if I could. (The price is right, too.)

Here are just a few examples of pairs of p.j.'s I'd love to add to my collection:

Cowgirl (cute, cute, cute)
Go-Go
Pulp Fiction
Cocktail Hour (love, love, love)
Sushi (mmmmnn)

All the above brought to you by the fabulous Cat's Pajamas.

~ chanson du jour ~ accidents will happen
~ drooling over watching later this evening ~ Ed

five under $5

~A bit of advice from your [none too] shabby doll*~

I am not a any sort of expert on how to maintain ones appearance, but, over the years I've tried a million different products. I've got five "beauty" products that I find myself using everyday. The best thing about them is that they are all under five bucks, and can be purchased at your local Target.

1. Totally Juicy's Apple Hot Sugar Scrub - Gentle enough for daily use. This stuff heats up while you rub it between your hands, and leaves your ass kissably soft.

2. Bonne Bell Lip Lix - I keep one in my car, one in my purse, and one in the bathroom. It's better than chapstick, v. sheer, and tastes nice. My favorite is The Last Strawberry.

3. Johnson's Baby Oil Gel - My essential, multipurpose product. Softens lips, takes off makeup, soothes skin, softens rough elbows, etcetera.

4. Water. Drink lots and lots of water. It will keep your skin clear, your weight down, and it's a fountain of youth.

5. Smile/Laugh. Everyone is attractive when they smile ~ and ~ laugh lines are sexy.

*I'm trying to keep things light here. I've got some pretty strong opinions about current affairs, but I'm content to stay away from soap boxes for now.

hairy

Powerfully moustached men.

Grand training videos.

~ chanson du jour ~ use me

bits of info [courtesy three cups of coffee]

It ended up being a draw between the immune system vs. the common cold. I'm sure it could've been worse, but that's what drugs are for.

Weekend: We found our way to the charming Cooper Vineyards shortly after 2:00 p.m. Saturday. We got our glasses, Mardi Gras beads, and proceeded to taste our way through the whites, then the reds, and then the sweet wines. There was a pretty good crowd, and I was reminded just how unattractive a busload of drunks can get. It was then I started making a mental checklist of things I was thankful for that day. For starters, I was thankful that I'm a grown-ass woman that knows when to quit drinking. Most of the time, at least.

We milled about, ate some gumbo, spoke with some friendly folks about one of the vineyards we've got to visit, purchased a few bottles of wine, and made our way back to Richmond and our digs for the night. All I'm going to say is that it was one hot suite*. Awwyeah.

We were both starved, so we headed over to mediocre-chain-restaurant-row for some Italian food. While Dennis was parking the car I went inside and was told the wait was at least an hour-and-a-half. A-hem. I don't know about you, but I'm not waiting that long for the Olive Garden. We ended up having an enjoyable meal with the older folks, got a piece of chocolate pie to go, and watched movies/drank wine/shared dessert/etc. in bed. I realized how lucky I was that my [rapidly growing] butt wasn't thrown back into the murky waters of the dating pool.

Changing subjects. I watched the Grammy's last night. I can sum it up in one word. Painful. I don't know who was responsible for this years "show", but it was simply awful. Sure, there were a couple of bright spots (Coldplay/Springsteen/Clash-tribute-thing), but the rest was pitiful. I know this isn't saying much - everyone knows it's all about money, youth, etcetera, but c'mon - you would think there have to be at least a few people who are shamed. Norah Jones is talented, but she is still far too "green". I own her c.d. - I like her c.d. - but it wasn't the album of the year. John Mayer? I just don't get it. Don't get me started about Elvis being snubbed. A lot of these acts are just plain weak, but pretty and packaged nicely. Evidently this is what people want. Not me. Call me whacky, but I like a little more substance. Talent. I've learned far-too-well that looks tend to be highly overestimated.

*Literally hot. The thermostat was broken, and it must've been well over eighty dregees in that room. Thankfully there was a sliding patio door.

dear internet void

I've got to channel every bit of positive thinking I have to my immune system.

I am NOT getting sick. No, I am not. I will suck on Halls Defense harvest cherry multi-blend supplement drops like there's no tomorrow. I will drink liters of water throughout the day (since we all know the importance of water consumption).

I want to be able to sip wine and celebrate.

O.K., immune system - you know you can beat this. It's a COMMON cold. It lacks the character you have. My clever, first-rate immune system is far more sophisticated than low-life germs. You can conquer this cold.

wine and sex

We're out of here for a few days. Off to taste fermented grapes. American fermented grapes. There's a good possibility there could be some hijinx and shenanigans.

Sex Made Simple (for those that need a little help in that area.)

one more day

There's a really nice gentle rain falling on the metal roof of the sunroom (where the computer lives.) All things considered I slept fairly well. In bed by 10:30 p.m. after watching bits of some strange show on HBO about murders. V. shabby, so I clicked it off.

After a quick scan of music news, I found this fairly disappointing. :-/

All right. I've gotten a little too friendly with my inner-child this morning. Time to bloom.

~ chanson du jour ~ am i getting through
~ listening ~ (*the only place you can hear Sinatra's version of "How Insensitve" followed by Led Zeppelin's "Wanton Song"...)
~ eating ~
~ reading ~
~ amusing me ~ cowbell songs. (For those who have way too much time on their hands.)

neat-o

Poetry.

~ chanson du jour ~ the loved ones

a question of ethics

This quiz is interesting. I've made some fairly (a-hem) questionable decisions lately, but I've always fancied myself as a pretty ethical person. According to the results I failed this test. I only answered five questions "correct". I'm sticking to my answers.

keeping [somewhat] mum

I know I stated earlier I'd be divulging a bit of the icky stuff so that I could move on. Look, I'm tired of the icky stuff, and I've already made peace with the people that are truly important in this whole triangulation. What I'm going to do from this day forward is post only positive, real stuff. This is me, what I'm like, who I love - like-it-or-lump-it. (However, before I get there, here's just a small bit of what's been going on.)

First, we've (Dennis and I) have fired the first "shrink" (a.k.a. therapist, counselor, whatever.) At our second meeting last Friday he (the doctor) started off on the wrong foot. He was talking down to us. "First, I'm going to lay a little groundwork before we get into any actual problem solving. We need to know a little bit about the way the brain functions. Prehistoric man.... (yadda yadda yadda)". "Shit", I'm thinking to myself. It's going to be another year before he even attempts to get personal. I want things fixed now.

He went on to discuss the way our brains operate on automatic "fight-or-flight/survive" mode. My stomach was growling v. loudly, and I was desperately trying to a) not get distracted, and b) not giggle like a third-grader. I glanced over at Dennis and I could tell he was struggling as well. I could hear his thoughts: "who is this fucking idiot??" He then started in on the psycho-babble about where our particular "locus of control" is located (mine, btw, is internal. No big surprise there.) Blah blah blah for another half-an-hour. We got up, paid the receptionist, and walked out the door towards the elevator.

"So, how did you think that went?", Dennis asked.

I replied, "Honestly, after he started chatting about how the brain keeps us alive, and how we get sad when bad things happen, all I could do was hear myself saying, 'well, DUH! Is this what we're paying him for? Come on - let's get on with it, mister. Tell me why I'm fucked up. Tell me how we're going to fix this mess we've gotten ourselves into'."

Dennis said he wanted to tell the guy the reason he was eyeing his diplomas was that he was trying to discern what yahoo-school had given him a Pysch degree.

Long-story-short (and maddeningly vague) ~ we're now going with a no-nonsense, action-oriented woman my hair colorist has recommended. (Hairstylists and bartenders get all the good skinny.)

Today I'm a lucky woman with plans for the weekend (touring some wineries), and a new set of [v. cherry] wheels:



~ chanson du jour ~ The Ballad of the Snow Leopard and the Tanqueray Cowboy


Men have lied
Many good girls have gone astray
Just to hear the gypsy play
One more lilting cowboy tune...

*sigh* If only I were five years younger... (O.K. - maybe seven years. Oh, shut up.)

I know this looks like shit. It'll get better.

~ chanson du jour ~ blue eyes

not ready yet

...this is an old soul in
a new body -- wary, wise to her own long past, on to the
wiles of the world, and having miles to go before she
sleeps.
--Sarah Ban Breathnach

Shabby is probably the nicest word I could come up with to describe the sorry state of life in our house/my house. For now I've got simple goals. One - to lead a life that's none too shabby. At this point I'm exhausted. Mentally and physically drained. Needless to say a blog is the last place I need to spend precious energy or time in, but I recognize my need to create. My need to confess. My need to own up to wrongs. In the future I'll get the icky stuff out of the way first. I'll set the record straight so that I can rebuild. Clean house, so-to-speak. Of course I'll do this with care, and an appropriate amount of discretion. That's one of the reasons I locked the doors on the old house. It was filled with misconception, self-importance, pain, and chaos. Shabby.

After the icky stuff is out of the way I'm not sure what [exactly] this blog will become. I do know that there will be integrity here. We'll be keeping things real. I'm not going to be split down the middle any longer. As a matter of fact this will probably have v. little to do with "me". Eventually there will be apologies for everyone - I'll ask for forgiveness - and we will move on. Reality sucker-punched me, and I'm finally lucky enough to hear the little birdies flying 'round my head. I'll post again when I get a little more rest and time on the "couch".

BTW - I'm allowing myself only a handful of these types of posts. I'm just sick-to-death of myself. I don't want the drama any more. I think a romantic comedy would be nice...

In the meantime, the little things help me smile.


~ chanson du jour ~ Springsteen

hello

Testing again.

Test.