The Remedy

So when everyone, their roommate, and their roommate’s friend, mother and second cousin were in Target this afternoon, I walked in and walked right back out. Feeling slightly claustrophobic and a little overwhelmed, the last thing I needed was some irate driver honking and gesturing at me for “pulling out in front of them.” You know the type – I just happened to be in their way.
The remedy: A hardware store. I owe it to my father who showed me the secret pleasures of electric drills, super cool doorknobs, the biggest screws you’ve ever seen and just about every fix-it gadget imaginable. Thanks Pops, because that was just the ticket to clam my nerves and release that great sense of smell, keen on new tires. Wow, people are so helpful, and not the least bit stressy. I just have to remember that for next time I’m in a mood – go to the hardware store. I’m bound to find something cool that I really don’t need but could fine a use for in seventeen years.

A short STORY

When I was working down town a few nights ago, a boy and his mother came into the store. From the get-go she was on his case about not touching anything! I was nonplused because I could care less if he massed up a display, at lease it would give me something to do. Bored out of my mind I was merely fussing with the paper towels and Windex when he walks up to me and says, “Excuse me Sir, will you please turn out the lights?” HA! That ripped me to a double. I nearly peed myself. Somewhat shocked but still smiling broadly I had to answer him quite frankly, “No, I’m sorry I cannot.” Of course his mother was appalled and fled the store immediately, nearly pushing him out the door in front of her. I was stunned and didn’t know what to think more odd, the fact that he thought I was a boy on account of my short-ish hair, even though I was wearing bright red lipstick and a dress, or that he wanted to turn out the lights… Maybe he was colored blind and had a glow-in-the-dark alien he wanted to locate?

Inspired by Birthdays

Age is something that doesn’t matter, unless you are a cheese… or wine, or a car, or a dress, or an old wooden chest, or even a yellow lab named Rio.
Then age matters.
But really, who’s counting right?
Not your everyday person. I’m not… well, not always.
AGE.
What a descriptive word.
It can be negative or positive.
It can be demeaning,
categorizing,
foul,
uplifting,
satirical,
punishable,
opportunististical,
thankful,
or just plain wacky.
It’s true, as you get older, you learn more, earn more, and gain more.
However, it doesn’t always have to be that way.
I prefer age not only as an adjective but as marinade – the more you put on and the longer you leave it, the better the dish.

Some things I’ve learned from living alone.

I can walk around naked if I feel like it.
No one will care.
Just make sure all the curtains are closed.
Leftovers are my friend.
Make leftovers.
Make them your lover.
If a jar won’t open bang the heck out of it until it opens, because it will.
It has to because having tomato sauce is more important than not having it, besides, who else will do it, if you don’t?
I can watch whatever I want, whenever I want.
I can listen to music, really loud because I don’t have to listen to anything else save for my thoughts.
If I’m lucky, if the volume’s up really loud and Stevie is wailing away on his guitar, or Dylan is smacking away at his harp, then I don’t even have to listen to those.
Make friends with your neighbors.
They’re a life saver.
Loneliness is also your friend.
It makes you stronger.
Doing dishes is optional.
So is vacuuming.
Running out of toilet paper is not.
A cup of tea and a good book really do wonders to calm the nerves and get me back on track.
I can finally understand what reading the newspaper is all about.
Really, just leave me alone for nine minutes while I read about war, politics, who’s running for Mayor and who got a DUI this weekend.
Living alone makes me appreciate people so much more.
Even the really annoying ones – they provide really good laughs.
I just have to remember to stop being afraid.
Sure life is scary.
Living on my own is even more daunting.
But the adventure should out-way most fear.
Don’t forget to breathe.
Don't freeze bananas in their skins.
Why has no one ever told me why?
Also, yams will never be sweet potatoes no matter how hard you try.

Random wonderings

Who is that outstanding individual that cleans up the road kill smeared across the street? Ever wonder why it’s there in the morning but by the evening it’s gonzo?
I do.
Did.
Am.

That’s it, all my thoughts for tonight. Bonne nuit.