This is where the action is. Where hopes and dreams meet harsh realities like middle age, household chores, marriage, cooking, family and friends, raising kids, and keeping the faith on a planet filled with beautiful turmoil.
Lord have mercy. It's Friday night — which means Guinness night in this house — so I try the ol' Pandora on the television again. Sometimes this works out for me and sometimes it doesn't. It's hard to try the Smart TV with a couple of old people in the house.
Anyway, I turn it on for a little backdrop for my chili cooking on a cold night and I decide to use the quickmix button.
I'm thinking Frank Sinatra and Luck Be a Lady is nice. Then it's followed by Jackie Wilson. Then Jackie's followed by Hank Williams. Then Hank is followed by Dean Martin. Then Dean's followed by the Supremes and I Hear a Symphony. This causes me to stop and think for a minute: Am I maybe just a little bit less hip than I thought I was? Well, that answer was obvious.
And then I get a little indignant. I think maybe Mr. Quickmix is a real person and I should have a chat with him. Tell him that I like the Red Hot Chili Peppers and that new Mumford and Sons group. I'…
So I picked out my funeral music years ago. It features Steppenwolf in the forefront. I'm pretty sure I can think of some Syracuse priests who would bend a couple of rules and blast some Magic Carpet Ride for me. Believe me, they've done worse. That's why I love them. Anywho, I do spend more than a little time thinking about how I'd like my "after party" to play out. I'm nothing if not morbid. These things are important to me.
First of all, I want a kegger. Absofuckinglutely. And I want there to be all manner of food just like I like it. Huge portions, bottomless red plastic cups. You get the picture. The music is key and must include Steppenwolf, a fantastic Motown medley, Mony Mony, maybe a Monkees song, a little Led Zeppelin and definitely some Levon Helm. And if there's time left and people are feeling sappy, a couple of Van Morrison songs. I'm thinking as I write this that I want to go to this party. Jeez.
And you know I'll be …
I'm experiencing a bit of a dilemma. I am no longer jobless. I am still, however, a bit of a goddess — although of the Rubenesque variety.
This leads me to pondering a new name for the blog, and because I am now employed, my brain is all cramped up and I cannot begin to decide on a new title.
I am openly soliciting suggestions. I have been told that the word "goddess" is a little intimidating. Far be it from me to project a strong personality. Whatever.
These days my brain is freeze-dried at the end of the day. Makes me wonder what the hell I was doing for 16 years at my previous job. That place was a cake walk compared to my new situation.
At the Catholic paper, on Fridays when we had to finish the layout, correct and produce the paper, I'd throw my Steppenwolf CD on and do a little dancing on the old magic carpet. Here, after we finish the paper, I have to run home and soak my feet.
I can't figure out whether this job is more challenging o…
I bought some lottery tickets today. They were $2 tickets so
we all know I didn’t become a millionaire. I know. I’m 52 years old and haven’t
changed a diaper in 18 years but I still get a kick out of a six pack and a
fistful of scratchers. If I
had a nickel for every time I daydreamed about winning the lottery I would have
been a millionaire years ago. I get to thinking about how I’d hire a cleaning
lady to scrub the dried toothpaste out of the sink every Thursday. I’d probably
make some coffee for her or offer her some iced tea. I’d be quite pleasant to
her. I wouldn’t want her to clean while I’m not here of course. She might take
off with my collection of stretched-out underwear I got from my sister 10 years
ago, 3 years after she wore them.
I’d love to have a cleaning lady. And
after I hire her, I’m spending some money on liposuction and some new leggings
to go with my big tops. I may look around for an electrolysis provider.
Some people immediately go out and
buy a new …