Soul Thumping

Aesthetically Pleasing to me Today - Beaching in the 60s

My mom has of photograph of herself in a bikini in the 1960s, standing in front a picnic table on a bright day.  It was one of those 'full coverage' bikinis, with ruffles.  When I think of summer, I see that picture in my head.  The ruffle bikini and huge honking sunglasses (don't worry Mom, I don't have the picture, so I can't post it) and a big smile on her face.  48.5 hours until our first beach vacation of the year.  Man, there is nothing like summer.

This one is for you Momsy!

photo source:  forevercool1

Amphitrite

Related articles

What I Found Aesthetically Pleasing Today - Putting Your Best Face Forward

What I Found Aesthetically Pleasing Today - St. Vincent

Do You, Um, Slurp When You Eat?

Last night Poseidon and I ordered Chinese food for dinner.  Poseidon hinted at a lack of energy to cook anything, and I, though not completely in the mood for Chinese, was less in the mood to forage through the pantry or refrigerator to whip up something magical out of freezer-burned frozen edamame and overly ripe olives in the style of Martha Stewart, so Hunan chicken and Poseidon's tofu, delivered to the front door, won out.

I always eat my Chinese food with chopsticks, even at home, because I tend to eat less and slower (slower because after 20+ years of using chopsticks, I still find it damn near impossible to get my food to go directly from chopstick to mouth...I usually take the scenic route:  chopstick to shirt, shirt to mouth), and last night I was starving by the time the food arrived, so I tore into.  I actually caught myself slurping and chewing with my mouth open.  I was a bit startled because I RARELY do this, and here is why:

My father did not like slurping.  I'll be blunt, he did not want to hear any sound coming from anyone while they ate.  Slurping, crunching, sucking, schlurping, chomping, chewing, grinding, gulping...these sounds drove him up the wall and down the other side.  Therefore, meals in my home growing up were the dreams of silent film makers.  "Eating" sounds like these made him leave a room in a fit of rage, like a spastic asylum resident.  On the rare occasion my mom made popcorn, he went all Biblical on us, and I don't mean preaching and quoting scripture, I mean storming mad and yelling like the Apocalypse was upon us.

Last night, when I first heard the slurping noise coming from my mouth, I nearly pissed my pants.  I took a deep breath and looked around.  Oddly enough, Poseidon had not even noticed my blunder.  I breathed a sigh of relief, and laughed inside, a really good laugh!  Why?  Because for a quick second (though my dad has been gone for several years), I imagined him hearing my schlurp, and I should either scurry under the couch or begin my search for earplugs immediately.  Ah, the things we learn in childhood.  Bon appétit.

--Fortuitous Observer

Related articles

Do People Still Steal Stupid Stuff?

Mothers Day 2012! Hug Your Mom (if She Isn't on this List) - 5 Worst Moms of the Year

I realize that Sunday (May 13th) is Mutha'a Day, so I have added buying a card for my mummy to my list of things to do tonight.  Mom, if I forget to mail the above mentioned card, "Happy Mother's Day,"  and I thank you in advance for not pummeling us with pelts from animal carcasses, or tying us to guardrails on the interstate because you needed some peace and quiet, forcing us to spar with one another for your amusement, etc.

Thanks to an article I found on FindLaw.com today, I have a post that will make you want to send your mom flowers every day of the year (unless of course, you happen to be one of the children of these featured mom o' the years).  So everyone out there, go hug your mom if she didn't save money by performing your appendectomy herself!

Here they are:  The 5 Worst Moms of the Year

 

Photo source:  geograph.org.uk

--Fortuitous Observer

 

Have Yourself a Victorian-Inspired Christmas - Great Gift Ideas for Women and Their Toddlers

I know I've blogged about Meliciously Yours tshirts in a previous post or two, because I am truly in love with these beautiful Victorian-inspired t-shirts for women (and infants).  The shirts are edgy, yet beautifully feminine and several ladies on my Christmas list can expect to receive one (or two, or maybe even three).  The designs are so intricate, and the fun part is that each design has the MeliciouslyYours logo--a peacock feather--hidden within the design.

These shirts couldn't be more apropos.  Recently JCPenney came under fire for a girl's t-shirt with "’m too pretty to do homework so my brother has to do it for me" emblazoned on the front.  I won't go into the ridiculousness of that shirt because fortunately, JCPenney decided to remove it after many, many complaints.

Meliciously Yours super soft ladies vintage tees with Victorian-inspired designs are not just pretty and comfortable t-shirts.  They allow smart women to brand themselves positively, and I feel empowered and feminine when I wear them.  My personal favorite is the "Innovator" design.  The infant shirts are adorable and would make a great Christmas gift for 2011.

Meliciously Yours is also a proud sponsor of Girls Rock NC, a non-profit organization that provides music and arts programming for girls ages 7 - 17!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

--Fortuitous Observer

Related articles

My 2012 Christmas List of Fun Gifts for Fun Women

Your Child, Sir, is a Serial Killer in the Making - Children and Their Parents at the Park

Poseidon and I have our house on the market, and sometimes we have to make scarce at the drop of a hat when the realtor wants to show our property to prospective buyers.  A few months ago, a last minute call from the realtor had me scurrying out of the house with a book, in route to the park just a few minutes from our house.

This park is next to an elementary school, and it was well after school hours, but there were many children running around playing and making new friends while the parents formed little cliques of their own discussing gymnastic instructors, dance classes, and swim meets and how well his/her tot is excelling in each of these sports/hobbies.

Away from the parental groupings in the park, I sat reading on a bench by myself, between the swing set and the adjacent tennis court, passing the time until I could go back to my house.  I looked up and directly across the playground from me was a man on bench, texting.  I didn't see children with him, or near him, just an observation I made.

Nearly 15 minutes later, I glanced up and the man was still texting, but this time a little girl, all of 4 years old (I'm guessing), approached him saying, "Daddy, come and see my castle."  She had been building a sandcastle in the large sandbox.  He said something to her I couldn't hear, but I did notice that he hadn't even looked up from his texting while he spoke to her.  The little girl waited for him to view her architectural masterpiece (I'm sure to her it was a masterpiece).  Nope.  Nothing.  Dad still texting.  Little girl walks back to her work.  I think I will name her "Sally."  I feel much empathy toward Sally.

Just minutes later, I glance up at the poor might-as-well-be-an-orphan Sally and another little girl (I'll call her "Mary") was trying to play with Sally.  Sally, who was sitting on her knees playing in the sand with her bucket, purposely turned he body away from Mary without saying a word.  Mary stood around a bit longer, hoping to make a friend to play with.  I suppose she finally took Sally's snub as a hint.  I feel much empathy toward Mary.

I am guessing that Mary desperately wanted to make a new friend because moments later she tried again with the evasive Sally by plopping down in the sand next to her.  This is when the drama/tragedy commenced.  Sally stood up, got in Mary's face and yelled, "LEAVE ME ALONE, AND I'M NOT KIDDING!!!"  I honestly thought my heart would beat out of my chest because the anger in this little tiny person was so intense, it was frightening.

Now I look up at quick-as-lightening-texter Daddy to see his reaction.  His head turned toward her direction, still texting, and I swear he never took his eyes from his iPhone and turned his head right back down.  Sally stomped off (literally) to another area of the park.  Daddy does nothing, oh, wait, I take that back.  He is doing something.  Texting.  Poor little Mary, ran to her parents, who were watching the creepy scene in the park sandbox play out.  They whispered something consoling to her, and she seemed to relax.  You tried little Mary, it isn't your fault.

I'm not a parent, but I am a human being, and was/am someones daughter, and a child myself once (oh, oh, and I've been in therapy of one form or another my entire adult life so I can spot a wow-you-are-going-to-be-once-screwed-up-puppy-if-you-don't-get-help-now tot when I see one) so I'm more than a little concerned about Sally.  The amount of anger in that 4 year old little girl was scary, appalling, and unacceptable.

Why is this my business?  Because I still walk on this planet, and Sally is just one more little creature brought into the fold by selfish mooncalves who are too lazy to parent and set boundaries or pay the poor little troll any attention while she is creating something in the park; so, it is my business because in just a few short years, Sally will be in some newspaper or on TV and/or behind bars because she will have done something "very wrong" because she didn't know it was wrong or have any reliable concept of how to live socially with others, and she is too full of rage at having been ignored during the most important teachable years of her life, and that "something very wrong" could be committed against me, those I cherish, or any other hapless victim in or out of the park.  Ah, yes, but she can text like the dickens.

 

--Fortuitous Observer

 

I Saw Something Yesterday as Elusive as the Unicorn...a Teenager Mowing the Lawn

That's right folks.  I saw it with my own eyes on my way home yesterday.  At the time, I was inclined to think I had gone mad, but when I mentioned what I had seen to Poseidon, he confirmed that he saw this rare phenomenon as well:  a teenager actually mowing her parent's lawn (yes, I said "her"), and I'm not talking a riding lawn mower with a cushy seat, I'm talking plain old-fashioned push mower.  I just don't see that these days so I was quite impressed.

For many of us Gen-Xers, growing up in suburbia meant we were assigned chores.  Manual labor if you will.  My sister and brother and I shared the duty of mowing not only our yard, but my grandparent's yard.  My dad was a carpenter and would build things and sell them like plant stands, vegetable bins, magazine racks, clocks, etc., and we got paid for sanding and staining the wood before he assembled his masterpieces.  Manual labor.

I may have resented it at the time (Wait...may have?  Of course I did, I was a teenager), but I learned some valuable lessons.  I can't think of any right now, but I know I learned something.

 

--Fortuitous Observer

 

The Leaves Have Begun Their Journey to the Ground...and I Can't Find the Charger for the Leaf Blower

Today is a quiet mid-August Sunday morning, and of course Poseidon is still asleep, so I'm enjoying my solitude and catching up on Facebook, emails, and all things electronic.  I noticed several brown leaves falling from one of the large oaks in our front yard.  It has begun.  Summer is subtly fading into autumn and I'm usually excited by this change, even though I a sun bunny.  I will miss the coconut smell of sun screen and lotion, and the smell of chlorine from the neighborhood swim club and the bright sun that makes sure my body is well equipped with its much needed Vitamin D!

I won't miss the swim moms dropping their spawn off at the swim club, that is for sure.  Poseidon and I have come close to death on more than one occasion this summer by the inability of these swim moms to drive like they've had a license for more than 20 minutes.  Seriously, there should be a sign near the swim club entrance that reads, "Got a uterus?  Don't Even Try to Parallel Park."  The other evening, Poseidon and I were driving on our street, past the swim club, when a woman in an SUV decides it's safe to do a U-turn right in front of us!  We had to slam on the breaks, and I honked the horn and I guess she was so embarrassed she took off like a bat out of hell down the street.  We had managed to survive yet another moronic assault by the swim moms!

Anyway, back to the tranquil part of this morning.  Though the falling leaves are a sign that summer will soon come to the end of its annual reign, I'm ok with it this year.  It's been a summer filled with decision making and preparing our house to go on the market, having strangers parade through our home, critiquing it, scrutinizing it, etc.  Leaving one job, beginning a new one.  Having been married for a year now (1 year on August 28th) without incident, though had we not had someone come in and install the new toilet we tried to do ourselves, the word divorce may have gotten batted back and forth.  So long summer of 2011.  I'll miss you when mid-November is here, but you will be back again.  You've never let me down, and unless the Aztec calendar is right and we are all going to crash and burn in 2012, I suppose, if I'm lucky enough, I'll see you again and again.

 

--Fortuitous Observer

Please Keep Your Child's Pacifier Out of My Mocha

Before I even begin to get into this, let me start by saying I have nothing against babies, toddlers, children, etc, and to most of my friends who are parents, please do not be offended, because you are great parents.  I love googooing and gahgahing over babies and sweet little folks, if they truly are kind, sweet little folks, which generally means they have been brought up properly, well-behaved and polite, and taught that they are not the only beings on the planet and the world does not revolve around them outside of their parent's home.

As a matter-of-fact, I had a lovely conversation with the most adorable little girl (I'm guessing she is probably 2 years old) this evening at the grocery store.  She was so unselfish and tender, and she babbled preciously with an "inside voice" and I could tell her parents were enlightened and imparted upon her the virtues of being respectful of others (I'm not sure how her parents did this, but I applaud them loudly); that the world does not revolve around her and she is but only one small cog in a huge wheel like the rest of us.  I'm so serious:  I applaud these parents (and they looked very young, early 20s).

What a contrast to the ridiculous little spawn, and more importantly, his mal apropos "mother" I encountered in a coffee shop this morning.  I had my follow up appointment with my surgeon to check my healing process (had my gallbladder removed over a week ago), then decided to go to a coffee shop to do some writing for a change of scenery, and fortunately I left before cops had to be called...

While sipping my iced mocha (with the heat index today...it was near 101 degrees at this time, 9:30am, so anything I consumed had to have ice...except my bagel, it was toasted) and typing away on my laptop, I noticed a woman (I'm truly gonna now use that term lightly) and a toddler - he looked to be around 3ish - walk through the door.  I went back to typing, and not 5 minutes later I heard a scream, which caused me to look up in fear because I thought a child was being murdered.  The aforementioned toddler was screaming and kicking the counter because he demanded to be picked up and sat on the counter and the toddler-whipped pansy of a mother complied with his wishes, which made me want to vomit thinking of a poopy-filled diaper touching the counter where I had just picked up my bagel and mocha only minutes before.

I went back to typing, when the enfant terrible began running around the coffee shop, which I could ignore, but he ran up to my table and started pulling at my notebook, laughing and screaming.  I pulled the notebook away, giving him a stern look, and then looking toward his mother for some sort of involvement, and she was totally oblivious (under the age of 30), then he ran away, bothering other patrons.

I again turned to my writing, and within 5 minutes he did it again.  Sorry, not on my watch.  If you can't parent your child, I'm going to step in and help you.  I said loudly, "Excuse me, I'm working," and pulled the notebook from the future delinquent's hand, which got a look from his mother, and a "Jamison, let's go."  No apology.  Nothing.  You rude, ignorant $%^&.

This story is apropos, because yesterday evening I was reading an NPR article about a restaurant in Pennsylvania called McDaine's that has chosen to ban children under the age of 6 from their establishment.  Oddly enough (for an NPR article), the majority of the comments (a great deal many from those who ARE parents) are in favor of this.  I have to quote one of the comments, that in my opinion, sums up the problem with a neat little bow...it's not the children, it's the parents...kids NEED boundaries, just like puppies:

"There was a time in our history where this wouldn't have ever been an issue. Children were expected to meet a certain standard of behavior, and would never be brought to certain venues (restaurants, theaters, etc.) if they couldn't be trusted to behave appropriately. Since many parents don't set this standard anymore, it is a really great idea to have these rules to protect the rights of the majority of patrons who wish to have an enjoyable time. There *are* some well-behaved children out there...but unfortunately there are also far too many who can be downright awful."

 

--Fortuitous Observer

PSA: Keep Your Kids in the Car...Much Agita on Channel Z

Agita.  One of my favorite words and I experience it a great deal (anxiety; agitation).  I know I bring it on myself, and yet, I'm addicted to the anxiety, no matter how annoying.  It is quite pathetic, but here I am.  People always tell me to relax, get a hobby, mediate.  I would love to do all of those things you crazy little fools.

Today, to sum up the agita and the noise in my head, I'm borrowing lyrics from one of my favorite bands, The B-52s, "Gettin' nothin' but static on channel Z."  I'll file this one under the "My Neurosis" category.

Oh, and this is a bulletin, call it a PSA if you will...I have to stop at the grocery store tonight on the way home, so everyone who has a brat kid who thinks its acceptable (I'm sure it's because they were taught to do what they want and boundaries don't exist) to pick his/her nose and wipe it on the produce, keep them in the car with the windows rolled up (come on, it's cold outside) or I may have to show them an uncomfortable way to eat an avocado...'k?

--Fortuitous Observer

Amazing Grace & the CLEP Exam - Remembering My Father

This isn't my usual funny, sarcastic post (I know, I know, I'm sorry for trying to get serious for once).  This is something that happened to me that is a total mystery, something so profound yet confounding that it is difficult to explain, but I'll try.

My father passed away from esophageal cancer on August 11, 2004.  I went to the wake and the funeral and I was miserable at both.  I didn't like seeing my father in a casket with entirely too much makeup on, and the pink lipstick was over the top!  At the funeral, my cousin Toni sang "Amazing Grace" which was one of my dad's favorite songs, and he always loved her voice.

A few months after the funeral I was trying to finish a degree and I wanted to "test" out of some classes, which means I take the CLEP examination for the course, and if I already know enough about the topic, and pass the test, I don't have to take the classes, etc.  So, I had scheduled a CLEP exam at a small college in Philadelphia, where I was living at the time, called Manor College.  I didn't even know where Manor College was, but I followed the directions.  My exam was scheduled on a Saturday at noon.

I gave myself plenty of time to get there, but due to road construction (imagine that, road construction in Philadelphia).  I had to take several detours around this construction (or "destruction" in Philadelphia...not to go off on a tangent, but due to the unions in Philadelphia, things get finished at a slower, relaxed pass because that means, well, more money), and I was hopelessly lost.  I was frantic.  I drove up and down streets, looking for the school.  If one is scheduled for an exam and more than 5 minutes late, they won't let you in!  I was in a panic, tears streaming down my face.  I had the radio on, and out of nowhere, "Amazing Grace"  started playing.  I was stunned.  I hadn't heard this song since my father's funeral, and the radio station I had on, a college station, wasn't in the habit of playing gospel music.

As I listened to the song, tears still streaming, I began to calm down, and an almost peacefulness took over.  I took a deep breath, and I looked up, and directly in front of me was Manor College.

I made the exam on the dot, and passed.  Thanks Dad.

 

--Fortuitous Observer