and I totally forgot to say that I very blatently stole this tree photo off of my soulmates blog.

I saw a tree today. . . And while we do have the normal amount of trees here in my state, this one was different. Majestic. Awesome with leaves and folds and folds of colors. We do get fall colors here, but not like this. Not like Michigan. So, I was driving to the MacDonald’s for some pancakes WITHOUT SYRUP for my nephew and I saw that tree and it just took me back. Instantly.

I lived in Michigan for awhile, Saginaw to be exact, working for this funky little children’s touring theatre and living on a street that was in itself a reality show gone bad. (redundant. I know.) This group of actors, thrown together and force fed into each others lives, became a family. I remember making care packages for my friends back home and in other places and I used the fallen foliage to pack them with. I’d never seen such beauty.

There was craziness and there was drama and tears and humiliation and love sweet love by the wee fist-full in this family. There were also porch gatherings that erupted into full blown productions of Rent, or Pink Floyd, or the Devil Went Down to Georgia or swing dancing. YES. we thought we could dance!Honey Brown beer was my drink of choice if it was payday and the sick, sweet, fermented smell from the sugar beet factory mingled in with the waves of cigarette smoke for our signature fragrance.

This time of year, always brings it back for me with such a force. I wonder about us…all scattered around the country living our lives. There was a boy.( insert eyeroll and drolly say, Honey when is there not) and I occasionally think about him…but there were others, special, special others and I wonder if they wonder. I keep in touch with the two soulmates of mine I met there…and I email a few others on a scarce basis.

I don’t smoke like that anymore. It’s a constant battle that I win daily and lose monthly. I don’t listen to Pink Floyd or Charlie Daniels anymore and I haven’t tasted a Honey Brown since the turn of the millennium.

I guess it’s funny what we leave behind, and what can bring it back again.

That was an amazing tree.

The best birthday gift. Ever. Perfect in every single delicious episode. I can’t wait to sit and fester over each and every ep. You are probably the only one who reads this, so I wanted to dedicate a very special episode of “zelda” to say THANK YOU!! I love you more than Dylan loves . . . Brenda…er…Kelly…loves…Brandon…er…….. Nat?

Cleaned the house today, until I was just worn out…but it feels fantastic. Only the kitchen and laundry left to tackle, and frankly they can get done during the week. Having family in this weekend, and on Saturday celebrating my bday with them. Hopefully it will be nice and painless. I don’t want my father here. I don’t want to have to fake it again. And until he and I have a conversation, open the dialogue on this can of worms, it can’t happen. Sticking my head in the sand on this for another day or so.

Cleaning house is easy…cleaning family is ridiculous.
Bring on the gin.

A Diss Best Served Cold

So last night, P and I are at our bar (not our bar, like we go there everyday, we actually are owners of it) and we’re watching the OU game on tv. Another friend of mine and her bfriend show up, we’re hanging out, still somewhat celebrating my birthday with very fabulous club specials (a vodka fresca as it were) and another friend shows up. It was fabulously sporadic and spontaneous all night long. We laugh, and drink and laugh louder and enjoy the night.

Moving right along, later in the evening another “crowd” shows up. Mostly regulars who we know and for the most part, enjoy. The atmosphere is fun and jovial and it’s not so crowded that one has to wait longer than 60 seconds for a drink. I have to tinkle, (many club specials mind you, and yes E, I did use actual facilities this time!) and head to the bathroom. In there, is a girl who’s come in with the second group. I like her well enough. We’ve known each other and spoken for about four years now. Not socially, but at the bar.

She asked what was going on, I say “birthday bla bla bla” She squeals, I squeal, there was a hug involved somewhere in there. fine. Then she asks how old. I say “36” and we ascertain that I’m about 4 weeks older than she is. fine. She goes thru the whole “we’re old” crap, I refuse to bite saying I’m sure as hell not old I don’t know about you. . . more squealing. Fine. THEN, and here’s the kicker, she says, “I was telling my girlfriend the other day. . . (looks me up and down) and not to diss you, but (turns around, shakes her size 5 or smaller ass) and says, I look good.”

Not. To. Diss. You.

I say of course you look good, and head back to my friends.

It was somewhat of a grenade. Took a few minutes before it exploded right into my face.

NOT TO DISS YOU. . . The fuck is that about? I know what size my arse is. I know what I look like. I also know what I’ve looked like before and what is in my future.

Shitty people are all around I suppose. It’s always so amazing to me when they really show themselves like that though. I forget, for the most part that they are out there. Still have the Anne Frank mentality and think people are generally pretty decent.

It didn’t ruin my night. I fussed about it awhile, had a few shots, laughed hysterically again and headed home. So a good night still, made even better because I am off work today and tomorrow and life is very good.

I wouldn’t be honest though, if I weren’t really planning something for that girl next time I see her. Any suggestions?

MkaeP’s Santa Fe Soup.

1lb ground beef
1 medium onion

brown together, drain.

In stock pot, or slow cooker add without draining:
1 can Rotel
1can pinto beans
1 can kidney beans
1 can Ranch style beans
1 can diced tomatos
1 cup water
1 packet of taco seasoning
1packet of Ranch Dressing seasoning. (not the dip)
1 sm bag frozen corn

Let simmer for about an hour, top with mexican cheese and serve hot.

this is my favorite recipe for any occasion. I have a huge pot full of about 10lbs of it simmering right now, that I ‘m serving at the bar tomorrow.

Enjoy.

Birthdays

Yesterday was my birthday. 36. Jumped into yet another age box, and I’m happy with it. I have great company here, surrounded by brilliance and a tinge of hysteria. I had a great day. Took off work from the salon and the bar, no work or boundries or limits for me until Tuesday. hooray.

Slept late yesterday, had a decadant lunch with my bonus mom that included a bottle of wine, and a ton of Lovely things, followed up by a brief visit from my father. . . we’ll jump off that bridge later. . . then a massage, then to the bar then to dinner then home to the cats and sleep. Not a bad way to handle a new age box.

My phone blew itself up with good will from my friends. Would that everyone felt as loved as I did and do.
xoxoxo.

I am going to semi promise to work at blogging. there is a lot of stuff that I need to get out of my head, if only I’d do it here…we’ll see how that is.

Brand New Day

tomorrow a brand new weeks starts. remember, mine begin on tuesday. I have grilled chicken, made fresh tuna salad for my lunches. I am going to Nan’s tomorrow and picking up a treadmill to put smack into my living room. I am pacting with myself to walk every morning while I watch my days of our lives and matt lauer. this is a good start. a new week.

i ate pretty badly this week, the last part of it anyway. sunday was just a train wreck of glutonous porportion. today, not too bad actually. ate some mcdonalds though. boo. hiss. spit.

tomorrow, fresh beginnings.

and jenny is bringing me 12 Sharp to read. slurp.

All Hail the Glitteratti

I read in a magazine one day a few weeks ago that some sort of all knowing movie star somehwere in her thirties claimed that

no one over thirty should wear glitter.

really. Now, I happen to be absolutly in love with my Urban Decay Metallica silver glittter eyeliner. Here’s a few reasons why….

shiney shiney.

It gives a little pick me up during the week.

shiney shiney.

Life is too short not to wear any.

did I mention, shiney shiney?

HOWEVER. . . there is a fine line between lining ones eye with a delicate yet bold line of glitter and walking out of your house looking like you’ve been mugged by a disco ball. . . this is where I have a problem. AND at the end of the day, the little pieces of glitter start falling into my eyes and I see a gozillion of me.

but this is a small price to pay for some sparkle in your life on a stupid boreing one appointment in eight hours thursday.

Here’s to all the glitter girls out there. and I think it was some stupid skinny 20 year old that made the magazine remark…wish I could remember her so I could boycott. she can bite my glittery shiney ass.