Posts Tagged ‘humor’

It’s not a good day when I’m walking the dogs, sipping coffee, & yet want to strangle both of them & cry. It’s a sign–a big flashing red neon with audio yelling, you have GOT to let it go. You have to drop what you aren’t handling and take care of yourself before you snap. You just have to.

I have avoided, stressed about, cursed myself for, battled with or neglected so many things like an impending heart attack–which, by the way, I actually thought I might be having a few weeks ago. Next stop, the cardiologist, no joke.

1. I have to get rid of this cat. She’s darling, quiet, simple, and yet her presence is stirring up the dogs, & this whole cat box thing is just grossing me out. Find her a home. Let her go.

2. I hate walking the dogs together. It stresses me out and makes me nasty. It makes me a bad dog walking mom, because they each want to stop at every. single. god. damn. bush & I never get to walk more than 10 feet without stopping. I have to walk them separately and this will mean watching one of them look positively rejected and pained, because going for a walk is the best thing about their day. One. At. A. Time.

3. I am not the ideal entrepreneur and I might well never be. I’m not going to be featured on Etsy, and I can’t remember the last time I even made the front page. I don’t sleep or sleep too late–in desperate attempts to stay off  anxiety of any given day. I stress. I fret. I get overwhelmed with how behind I am with my business–and mostly how far ahead, beautiful, stunning, well photographed, updated, blogged, pinned, newslettered and promoted other shops are–and how young. They are all so very young, hip, beautiful, and can photograph their clothes on themselves. They look like ads for Anthropologie. I can’t Photoshop away enough years to compete. It just isn’t going to happen.

I can still have two beautiful shops, I just have to give myself permission to let them be what they are, the best I can do amongst everything else, and let it be. My customer service is stellar. So I have that.

4. My life, my house, my existence is never going to look like a Pinterest board. My desk is elbow deep in papers, there are dust bunnies blowing across the wood floors, my wardrobe is so frighteningly disheveled I’m taking boho chic to a whole new low in boho recycled whatever. I am never going to run errands in those beautiful 4-inch leather sling backs I adore. My hair is never going to achieve Brazilian blowout chic, but more like Supercut’s special-of-the-week that’s been flattened because I never walk without a hat even though my skin is WAY beyond skin cancer redemption. I hate the sun in my eyes and I can’t wear the fab Jackie O sunglasses because I need them in prescription.

5. I need a part-time job, one where I go out in the world and they pay me to do something, I’m not sure what, so I can afford to keep my apartment, my dogs, my life. I have a dusty English degree. It wreaks of antiquated quaintness, like Avon perfume or an 8-track player.

I feel like “Tall, grande or venti?” will be my new version of “Would you like fries with that?”

6. I have to let ideals go and be okay with what is. That’s what this whole list comes down to. Living in the mess, but staying a course, even a zig-zag one without so much emotional attack on myself. I’m not sure how that works, but taking notice, creating a comical self-deprecating list and then laughing at. It lightens my inner critic to beat it to the punch. It’s a start, somewhere in the middle.

P.S. I can see a dozen or more edits this piece needs. Not. Going. To. Happen.

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 3 weeks ago my old washing machine kicked the bucket. It stopped spinning mid rinse cycle, smoked, squelched and died. R.I.P Kenmore 70 Deluxe. You did us proud. 


Meanwhile, I have pulled out clothes I haven’t worn in forever, foraged through the bottom of drawers, beneath the clothes I never wear,  attempted to dress myself without visiting a laundromat. It’s truly amazing just how many clothes I have that I hate. Clothes I would never wear. What was I thinking? Who would wear THIS? And yet, there they are. 

I was on my last pair of favored skivies 2 days ago–and for the record I’d like to say JUST HOW MUCH I HATE a lacy thong, but I digress. I needed a new washer, like, 2 days ago. 

Four phone calls to the building manager, 4 different messages “left with the secretary” and one final “bat phone” call to the landlord later, and FINALLY I have a new washing machine (!)  


It’s big, very white and makes an entirely new set of sounds, so many little quirks to adjust to, somewhat like adopting a new dog, or boyfriend. Yet, here it is, swirling it’s very first load of undies as we speak. 

 Welcome new Maytag, Quiet Plus. You have big whirling shoes to fill. Do us proud.

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Playing in the leaves with Zephyr made me think of this editorial I wrote several years ago–and just two days off! How timely. Enjoy the leaves!

November 14, 2006

“Leaves have been falling in droves and it’s a lovely sight, but there appears to be some confusion plaguing our residents. The trees are not trying to hurt you. Leaves are not dangerous. Continually blasting them with a leaf blower, especially on windy days, will not kill them or make them disappear. The leaves are already dead, so relax. Blowing them into the street or off your property line does not mean you win.

Leaves, tree branches and grass clippings are biodegrabable. This is a big word, meaning the leaves will decompose (or break down) and become part of the earth again–basically, dirt. This is a good thing.


Here’s the tricky part: Plastic bags filled with dog poop are not biodegradable, even if you hide them in leaf piles so your neighbor won’t see where you left them. Please note: The plastic bag used to pick up dog poop goes in a garbage can. A garbage can is easily recognizable, as usually a large green plastic container that sits along the side of house and sometimes smells. However, if you deposit your dog-poop bag–also known as “garbage”–in the big green plastic container and shut the lid, you will not smell it anymore, nor will you or your neighbors run over it when they back out of the driveway. This small act of kindness can maintain peace and quiet within your neighborhood. Peace and quiet may not be familiar to you–but I digress.

It’s pretty simple: garbage bad, leaves good. If this news about leaves is too unsettling, you might find raking very calming. A rake is a long slender tool for gathering leaves, not unlike a broom. Raking is good exercise. It requires no gasoline or electricity and makes little noise, other than a light scraping on the sidewalk. You may remember the lovely and antiquated sound from childhood. You may discover, if you dig through the clutter in the back of your garage, that you already own a rake.

To sum up: Leaves are not the enemy. Plastic is not biodegradeable. Raking is good for your health. Enjoy the lovely autumn. We’ll have this discussion again next year when–don’ t panic!–the leaves will return.”

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One of my alphabet cards made a treasury today. And it’s one of my favorites: A is for Alimony. http://www.etsy.com/treasury_list.php?room_id=5118 because every divorcee deserves it. 😉

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I’ve been working on my cards for Dahlila. They’re fun but they aren’t photographing well. They don’t pop–but then they are typed, HAND typed on an old Olympia manual. The fun is fading, as is the ink ribbon. My fingers hurt and I don’t think the antiquity of it all is appreciated, really. The computer printer is calling my name. . .

See, you can’t SEE the writing. This one says, ” Sharon discovered her family’s rantings were much less grating when she mixed the Adivan into her afternoon tea,” Dahlila 2008.

Now, that’s my kind of sentiment, which is why I wrote it. 😉 d.

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