rare saturday morning post

I'm sitting here sipping my coffee, listening to music, and reading the paper. It's so quiet, and the feeling hits me in the bottom of my gut. There's a reason I couldn't sleep well, and it wasn't the cat.

I'm lonely, and I don't wear it well. I'm going to motivate myself into busy-ness. I've got to sweep the floors, and do laundry, and get gas. I've got to pay bills, dust, and clean the windows in my car.

Nearly all the people I love are far away. I'd tell myself to put on a brave face, but who would I be putting it on for?

I'm not feeling sorry for myself, I'm just lonely, and it will pass. Things are much more bearable when you know you are missed, too.

Much Later ~ (as in not Saturday any more, but I made a tipsy promise to give props to my girl Sassy)

Way to go, you naughty published author, you! Hot.

(god. please. don't.) lay your hands on me

I was 26 minutes into my cardio routine when someone sat at the bike next to me. I was rockin' to some classic Bon Jovi, glanced over, and thought to myself "oh noooo..."

The gym perv was back.

"Do you like Bon Jovi?"

(This is the first time he's actually spoken to me. He's grunted and made obscene hand gestures, but never spoken. I thought he'd moved on to another Y.)

I said something like "yeah, sure", and focused my eyes on the row of televisions at the front of the gym. I didn't want him to spook me out of the best time I'd made to date.

I kept my eyes on the televisions, and when I was done I cleaned off the bike, got some water, and moved on to the machines.

Yeah, he followed me. I did the leg press, and he did the back extension machine (directly across from the leg press machine.)

I moved on to the obscene-leg-opening machine, silently praying that he wouldn't do it again, but I knew he was going to, and he did.

He sat down at the chest press, and gave me the one-arm push-push-push-heavy-breathing-guess-what-i'm-doing-in-my-sick-little-mind-thing. Again! (You'd think he'd have some sort of new material by now.)

Look, I'm not a prude, but there are times when things are happening that your rational mind starts to question, like "is this guy really doing what I think he is?" The first time he did it, he watched me adjust the machine so that my legs were spread, and when I pushed the weights in with my knees, he let out this moany-icky, "Awwwyeah - that's right". I stared straight ahead and thought to myself "WTF?!?! Did he really?" - blah blah blah...

I attract lunatics.

I also loathe confrontation. - I loathe it to the point where I end up pretending nothing is going on. If I ignore it it will go away, right?

Anyway...

Mr. Big still doesn't want to come out from under the bed until the wee small hours of the morning. He fell off the dresser into the c.d. rack around 4:30 a.m. He freaked out and knocked over my Sinatra collection.

I'm getting sleepy.

the elusive mister big, a.k.a. the "sucker" post

This is so typical.

From the moment we first locked eyes I felt there was going to be something special between us. He caught my gaze, and wouldn't let go, so I brought him home. I played soft music in the car, and took him back to the bedroom. I thought everything was perfect.

He's been under the bed since Friday, only coming out during the darkness of night to get a little food, and go to the bathroom.

The elusive Mr. Big, a.k.a. Mr. Bigglesworth-Scratchy. The Fraidy-Cat.

I know he'll come around. (They always do.)

Anyway ~

Saturday afternoon I succumbed to the lure of Victoria's Secret/Old Navy/Bath and Body Works. Victoria's Secret and Bath and Body Works are overpriced (in my opinion), but they never fail to suck me in. I am such a SUCKER. It's one of the reasons I don't go shopping as often as the average female. Chalk it up to a lack of self-control.

Saturday night was a girl's night in. There were blue jell-o shots (Sidenote: I am not a good shot sucker. I've got the tongue part down, but - well - it takes me a while to get the whole thing.) The shots made me feel like a kid again, and left me a little giggly. (Honestly, sipping water would make me giggly. I like to laugh.) Next up - Mardi Gras party!

Speaking of laughing, it's not so easy to do when dark clouds lurk, but I'm having an easier time finding joy in the smallest things, like getting decent strawberries for $2.50 a pound, grooving to Steely Dan, and watching Project Runway. (Yeah yeah - I watch it and enjoy it.)

p.s. Please go vote for David's Entertainment Blog (The Largehearted Boy) for the 2005 Bloggies Weblog Awards.

mrown

I believe it's a match made in heaven.

if you don't have anything nice to blog...

I was thinking very hard last night about negative things. So hard that I was called on it. "Quit thinking so hard", he said. I couldn't help it. The thoughts flooded my head, and as hard as I tried to replace them with cute puppy thoughts, or cozy-mountain-cabin-with-a-roaring-fire thoughts, the wicked-bad things just kept gaining momentum. Suddenly I was the reason for Every Bad Thing That's Ever Happened. I managed to seriously rough-up my ego in the process.

I know what I need to do. I need to tie up the loose ends of things that I've put off. Stupid things, really. Like getting my car inspected. Why have I procrastinated on such a stupid thing? Because it will take up too much of my "precious time"? Because I might get bored in the process? Because I really should clean out my car first? Who knows, but it's been needling me now since January 2nd.

I also need to make my appointment for my yearly physical. This is a bigger issue because I've got to find a new doctor. I don't feel comfortable going back to the doc who informed me I could take care of my borderline high blood pressure by losing weight. (Have I mentioned I'm a size 2?) Knowing me, I'll probably get to my hair stylist long before I make this appointment. (Note to self: Get rid of the majority of stripes in favor of a color resembling the hair you were born with, a.k.a. dark brown.)

I need to get back to the gym today because I always feel better after I sweat. The thing about that is that lately it's been a pain in the ass. The Y. is filled with January visitors - the folks trying to decide if this is going to be The Year they get back in shape. The sit on the machines chatting about the holidays, etc. I'm normally patient, but - c'mon - get off the machine and chat in the lobby.

Good grief, I'm coming across unusually surly today. I don't want to overanalyze it, or go into the details of what's really bothering me. The icky stuff 'neath the surface. In my heart I know I'm not going through anything a million other people haven't gone through. I wrestle with the "what if's" like everyone does. I've got to lighten up, and quit thinking too hard. Too much.

I'll be back once the black dog is at bay.

p.s. Exactly how unfair is to be angry with someone for the way they treated you in a dream?

awwyeah

This post is music-fied* for your pleasure. (Hit it.)


A few things that have conjured-up a little product lust lately:

1. The Gap's Modern-Fit Khaki, because I put my flirty-pants on one leg a time just like everyone else. (Stretchy, comfortable, and hits you at just the right spot on your hips.)
2. Santa Margherita Pinot Grigio - Thanks to a hot tip, I (luckily) picked up the last bottle at our local wine shop, and was glad I did. A treat!
3. Olay Quench. Winter does a number on my skin, and this stuff is great. The scent isn't overpowering, and it's not greasy. *If you've got sensitive skin (evidently like I do), then it might not work that well after a couple of days of use.
4. Vanilla-Scented Downy. Technically this isn't a new product, but it's fantastic to use when you're cleaning your sheets. I bury my face in the pillows, pull the covers up to my nose, and have the sweetest dreams.
5. LifeCycle Fitness Bike. I've got a goal of logging over 1,000 miles this year.

I'm not sure what the opposite of product lust would be, but I've got to take my car in for a recall. V. busy week ahead.

p.s. He still rubs me the wrong way.

*I know it's not a word.

the proverbial slow news day

*Disclaimer - this post was written with a glass of wine, a bit of self-deprecation, and slight exaggeration

A couple of days ago I got an e-mail from a local anchorman wanting to know if I'd do an on-camera interview about the exploding popularity of weblogging. (I hadn't watched the station he works for before. I was gracious enough to point that out.)

I wrote him back saying I'd be glad to help (thinking "Why does he want to do an on-camera interview with me? Seriously, why?" I later found out there are (approximately) only 6 bloggers in the greater Hampton Roads area (which is home to well over a million people), and I was the most "stable" of the lot. Stable is code for "least perverted".) I told him I had a few privacy issues. I don't divulge my last name on this blog, and I don't blog about my personal life. O.K. - I do, but I carefully dance around the details. No names, no trouble.) He assured me they could do the bit without giving away the actual website addy, and I'd be simply known as "Kelly". Uhm, WTF? Who do I think I am? (He earns points for saying I'm smart to be safe - lots of whacko's out there - etcetera. But, seriously, WTF is up with me?)

He dropped by my natural blogging environment (my house) this morning promptly at 10:00 a.m. with a charming cameraman (Sidenote: What is it about cameramen? Why are they always so nice?) Before they arrived the only thing I told myself was to try not to say anything stupid, and, wouldn't you know it, the first thing I do is point to the couch and say "This is where the magic happens!"

(In my mind I heard, "Gosh, You're such an Idiot". In Napoleon Dynamite's voice.)

I have a habit of saying stupid things (at times.) I once asked Brett Hull why he'd played such a shitty game the night after a loss to the Avalanche. He looked at me kinda funny, and said "I dunno." This isn't the dumbest thing I've ever said, trust me.

Anyway - we run through a couple of questions prior to my getting miked - "How did you get into blogging, what are some of the changes you've seen in the world o' blogging since you got started, are you addicted to blogging, etc." I got miked, I sat down, and did my best not to sound like a complete dork, or to say anything else stupid.

To make a long, very un-news-worthy story a little shorter, I muddled through o.k. I did say a few stupid things, like "when I got started there were only a few thousand bloggers in the world." (Oh.My.) I made a few references to Dallas, and gave a shout-out to DFW Blogs ('yo, Leia.) I explained the difference between a "blog" and an online journal (please note the number of links I'm managing to pack into this post). Somewhere in there I was reminded that I am, indeed, the one that posted about my ass (my words, not the anchorman's - he was gentlemanly enough to refer to it another way.)

I then did a "cheese sandwich" demonstration post for the camera (which I later deleted), chatted a bit more about things like "you know, a lot people don't have time to watch the news you guys put out, that's why the 'net is a lot more convenient." (Still a real charmer, aren't I?)

Bottom line is this. I'm not a blog addict. I don't have the time, really. I do believe blogs are a good thing. The potential for exposing newsworthy stories has already been proven, and I believe we haven't seen the best yet. There's just so much crap out there. I am a teeny-tiny fish. I'm not even fish-food, and that's o.k. I enjoy it. It's a hobby - a creative outlet - a source of venting, and I think that's what makes me a fairly typical blogger.

p.s. I think I looked pretty good, but without seeing any of the film I'm just guessing. I really don't photograph well. When people meet me in real life (after seeing photos), I typically get "wow, you look a lot better in person." (Which I suppose is a compliment.) I would be lying if I said this wasn't a concern. I also (as always) smelled fabulous.

flippin' coy

I might have something fun to blog about tomorrow. (O.K., maybe more like "funny". We'll see.)

btw - Just out of curiousity - what would a "typical blogger" (female) wear if she were doing some sort of news interview thing? (Other than a pink tutu.)

sweet

I would smile if I could wear this shirt every day, and I need something to make me smile.

Why, you ask?

(Thanks for asking!)

Because it's time to take down Christmas. It's time to put Christmas away. It's time to kiss Christmas good-bye, and I'm really bad at saying good-bye. (Seriously. It takes me forever to say good-bye. It's been pointed out this is one of my more annoying qualities. The rest of my qualities are quirky and charming.)

I love Christmas, and I know it will come around again soon enough, but still... (cue the Jackson Five.)

In other news, New Year 2005 was one of the dullest on record, but I looked darn good. I sat on the couch and watched this movie (which is hilarious to watch with an Alpha Male in the room. I looked over and saw this blank kind of "what-on-Earth-are-we-watching?" glazed look. Then he picked up his computer and logged on to ESPN or Home Depot or something.) For the record I thought it was fabulous. I'm a sucker for the oldies anyway. (Not that this was an old movie, but I'm a sucker for the tunes, which some people may consider "oldies".)

In more other news I had an appointment with my hot eye doctor this morning. I made sure I put an Altoid in my mouth before I went inside. He turned out the lights and got really, really close to my face. He put his hand on my face while he shined his little light in my eyes. He told me my eyes looked healthy, but I prefer to think healthy is code for "beautiful - the most beautiful I've ever seen, and I've seen a lot of eyes. Furthermore, I've never seen such a lovely shade of green."

I am really, really tired. (Can't you tell?)