For years now, I have referred to myself as "medium maintenance." No one who knows me could argue I am low maintenance, but nor could anyone argue I am high maintenance ~ well, maybe a certain ex, but he's a drama queen, so he doesn't count in this context. Digressing, Pobble... The point is that I like my manicures and rarely go out without lipstick, but even when I was a teenager, I had to work really hard to take longer than 35 minutes from coffee to walking out the door. My "beauty routine" has consisted of washing my face and throwing on some lotion. Done!
A few years ago, though, I started using specific face wash and moisturizer. And recently, Lori has gotten me into this great skin care line of products that includes *gasp* eye cream. Now that we're in Utah, it's a lot drier than New Orleans, so I've gone back to using lotion several times a day. Except that the lotion I love on my body, I don't love so much on my hands. So now I have a body lotion and a hand lotion.
Since moving to New Orleans, I've had to work harder to keep my curls looking defined and curly, rather than frizzy and unhealthy. Wild is one thing (and I embrace it). Frizzy is another. Now I have serum. And spray. And deep conditioner. And daily conditioner. Really?
My bathroom counter looks like a cosmetics department. It's insane.
Last night, I was getting a little frustrated with it all, honestly. It seemed to be taking so long. I just wanted to get into bed, not go through all the nighttime products, in order. I grumped ~ key word ~ to Lithus that at 43 I had a beauty routine for the first time in my life. His response was "How delightful. That sounds luxurious. A little 'you time' at the end of the day."
***
***
***
Huh. Just like that, I love my lotions. All of them. I love my creams and my polishes and my serums. I have a beauty routine. For the first time in my life.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
Monday, August 19, 2013
Music Unites, After All
Friday night, we (Lithus, our current mechanic ~ more on him in a moment ~ and I) decided we needed a bit of a night out. Usually, on the road, a night out means dinner at a restaurant instead of at the hotel or crew housing. Maybe a movie, if the town is big enough to have a movie theatre. A drink at the local bar. But Lithus and I have now been on the road for over a month and he was getting a little cabin feverish. Luckily for us, Richfield has a bar. And the bar has three pool tables. So, about 8:00, the three of us headed over to the bar to shoot a game of pool and maybe have a beer.
Now, back to our current mechanic. He is an old friend. A good friend. As the pilot's wife, I am thrilled beyond words that his diligence and skill are keeping my husband in the air. Plus, I just really like him, which doesn't always happen. Once I can come up with an appropriate name for him here, he will get his own moniker, because he doesn't deserve to be just another "Mechie" which is my usual name for the mechanic of the moment.
He is also, by his own admission, "a good ol' country boy." And in case you hadn't noticed, there is nothing country girl about me. Remember, I'm the one who thought the sheep might be sick when they had just been sheared. Remember, too, though that he is the one who didn't laugh at me for thinking so.
So, here we are, shooting pool in the one bar in town. The music is straight our of the 80's ~ to the point that I even mentioned to him that the jukebox was my high school car stereo. He surprised me by being able to sing along with the metal hair bands. We joked about Poison and Ratt and Van Halen ~ and then a song by each of them came on, making us roll our eyes, even as we sang along.
By 10:00, the crowd had shifted from older, to younger. The music had become far more current. There was even a little hiphop in there. And yes, country. Current country, but country nonetheless. And I think I surprised him by being able to sing along. Even if I didn't surprise him, I sure as hell surprised myself. Not sure when I heard it, or learned it, but I did. There is, I will admit, one country song out there that, if I'm not quite willing to say I like, I will at least say I know. That's as good as he's gonna get.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Now, back to our current mechanic. He is an old friend. A good friend. As the pilot's wife, I am thrilled beyond words that his diligence and skill are keeping my husband in the air. Plus, I just really like him, which doesn't always happen. Once I can come up with an appropriate name for him here, he will get his own moniker, because he doesn't deserve to be just another "Mechie" which is my usual name for the mechanic of the moment.
He is also, by his own admission, "a good ol' country boy." And in case you hadn't noticed, there is nothing country girl about me. Remember, I'm the one who thought the sheep might be sick when they had just been sheared. Remember, too, though that he is the one who didn't laugh at me for thinking so.
So, here we are, shooting pool in the one bar in town. The music is straight our of the 80's ~ to the point that I even mentioned to him that the jukebox was my high school car stereo. He surprised me by being able to sing along with the metal hair bands. We joked about Poison and Ratt and Van Halen ~ and then a song by each of them came on, making us roll our eyes, even as we sang along.
By 10:00, the crowd had shifted from older, to younger. The music had become far more current. There was even a little hiphop in there. And yes, country. Current country, but country nonetheless. And I think I surprised him by being able to sing along. Even if I didn't surprise him, I sure as hell surprised myself. Not sure when I heard it, or learned it, but I did. There is, I will admit, one country song out there that, if I'm not quite willing to say I like, I will at least say I know. That's as good as he's gonna get.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Thursday, August 15, 2013
Peach Paste
In case you're wondering, if you only add 1 cup of the 1 1/2 cups of flour, but still add all 1 1/2 cups of milk, you don't exactly get peach cobbler. Well, you do. But it takes almost three hours in the oven instead of 45 minutes. Eventually, it looks like this:
And tastes oh so good.
You just have to get through...that other stage...first.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
And tastes oh so good.
You just have to get through...that other stage...first.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
Night's Sky
We're in Utah right now, so big sky country. About midnight, we remembered the Perseid meteor shower was in its waning nights. When we stepped out, all I could do was gasp. Have I really never seen a sky like that? I don't remember.
On the one hand, I'm a city person. And even in my youth, when I was only a city child in my heart, we lived in the suburbs in Virginia. Plenty of ambient light and nothing big sky about it. On the other hand, I've been at the ocean at night - but only at ambiently lighted (is that the phrase I want? is it even a real phrase? who cares, it's the phrase I'm using) areas, never in open water. I've been in the mountains of Colorado - but again, only in cities and towns. Even in Alaska, when we were out in the bush, it was summer. There was no night sky. In winter, I was in Anchorage, with its lights, or Prudhoe Bay, with its clouds.
So, I gasped. And Lithus and I snuggled. And watched the Milky Way and the stars. We each saw meteors. His even left a green trail and exploded orange. I am happy to let him have seen that one.
We are both overwhelmed with optimism and possibility and potential right now, and have been for a few weeks. It manages to be peaceful and exhilarating, both, at the same time. For now, I am even managing not to look over my shoulder for the piano about to drop on my head, but just float and enjoy it.
It's good to look at the stars.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
On the one hand, I'm a city person. And even in my youth, when I was only a city child in my heart, we lived in the suburbs in Virginia. Plenty of ambient light and nothing big sky about it. On the other hand, I've been at the ocean at night - but only at ambiently lighted (is that the phrase I want? is it even a real phrase? who cares, it's the phrase I'm using) areas, never in open water. I've been in the mountains of Colorado - but again, only in cities and towns. Even in Alaska, when we were out in the bush, it was summer. There was no night sky. In winter, I was in Anchorage, with its lights, or Prudhoe Bay, with its clouds.
So, I gasped. And Lithus and I snuggled. And watched the Milky Way and the stars. We each saw meteors. His even left a green trail and exploded orange. I am happy to let him have seen that one.
We are both overwhelmed with optimism and possibility and potential right now, and have been for a few weeks. It manages to be peaceful and exhilarating, both, at the same time. For now, I am even managing not to look over my shoulder for the piano about to drop on my head, but just float and enjoy it.
It's good to look at the stars.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Wednesday, August 07, 2013
I Have A Thing About...
...Formal dining rooms. Several years ago, architectural trends moved away from separate rooms and into "open living spaces." Good Lord, WHY? I love rooms. I even love rooms within rooms. But mostly, I love a formal dining room. One that's big enough for a table with leaves that, when extended, seats ten or twelve. And has enough room for a china hutch, a buffet, and another sideboard and still has space to maneuver around the table and your dinner guests. With some delightfully gaudy chandelier hanging over the table. Sconces and wallpaper. Oooo...I love a formal dining room.
...Men in white oxfords, blue jeans, and cowboy boots. I can even tell you why. His name was Doug. We were in the 7th grade and it was the first time a boy had literally taken my breath away. If you add a watchband tan line to that combo, I am likely to fall out.
...Lithus in linen. Interestingly enough, Lithus in a white oxford, blue jeans, and cowboy boots does nothing for me. It doesn't suit him. But put him in linen... Holy crap. It won't matter if Brian Dennehy, Cho Yun Fat, Morgan Freeman and Tim DeKay are all lined up in front of me wearing white oxfords, blue jeans, and cowboy boots. I won't even notice. Not if Lithus is in linen. Or his flightsuit. Sweet baby jeebus, don't get me started on his flight suit.
...Painted nails. There is something about having my nails done that makes me happy on a core level. Somewhere along the line, it came to represent me being me at my best and strongest self.
...The Talking Heads. The band, from the 80s and 90s. An entirely new genre showed up about that time. I think it is currently called "early new wave" or "classic alternative" or something like that. I love many of those bands. So many of them that I have just deleted the beginnings of a list, because once I start, it will simply turn into a litany. But none of them make me feel it down in my gut the way the Talking Heads do.
...Big Band and swing music. Yep, as much as I love the original wave stuff, I love me some Frankie. Billie. Rosemary. The Andrews Sisters. Back when the Lovely Cats threw me my 40th birthday party, she told me to send her a list of songs and she would create a playlist for the party. Once I sent it to her, I remember her saying "don't you want something people could, you know, dance to?" I reminded her that these were my closest friends in the world and they knew exactly what kind of music would be played at a party for me. My last dance of the night was with Lithus to The White Cliffs of Dover. I don't think I've ever been so happy.
...Copper, pewter, and iron. The metals that harken back to metalsmiths hammering over flames. Sturdy, powerful, and meant to withstand whatever life throws at it. Nothing petite or gentle here.
This is far from an all-inclusive list. I have a thing about a whole hell of a lot more than just these. But these are the ones that I have been reminded of recently. They are some of the things that make me core happy, and core happy is good.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
...Men in white oxfords, blue jeans, and cowboy boots. I can even tell you why. His name was Doug. We were in the 7th grade and it was the first time a boy had literally taken my breath away. If you add a watchband tan line to that combo, I am likely to fall out.
...Lithus in linen. Interestingly enough, Lithus in a white oxford, blue jeans, and cowboy boots does nothing for me. It doesn't suit him. But put him in linen... Holy crap. It won't matter if Brian Dennehy, Cho Yun Fat, Morgan Freeman and Tim DeKay are all lined up in front of me wearing white oxfords, blue jeans, and cowboy boots. I won't even notice. Not if Lithus is in linen. Or his flightsuit. Sweet baby jeebus, don't get me started on his flight suit.
...Painted nails. There is something about having my nails done that makes me happy on a core level. Somewhere along the line, it came to represent me being me at my best and strongest self.
...The Talking Heads. The band, from the 80s and 90s. An entirely new genre showed up about that time. I think it is currently called "early new wave" or "classic alternative" or something like that. I love many of those bands. So many of them that I have just deleted the beginnings of a list, because once I start, it will simply turn into a litany. But none of them make me feel it down in my gut the way the Talking Heads do.
...Big Band and swing music. Yep, as much as I love the original wave stuff, I love me some Frankie. Billie. Rosemary. The Andrews Sisters. Back when the Lovely Cats threw me my 40th birthday party, she told me to send her a list of songs and she would create a playlist for the party. Once I sent it to her, I remember her saying "don't you want something people could, you know, dance to?" I reminded her that these were my closest friends in the world and they knew exactly what kind of music would be played at a party for me. My last dance of the night was with Lithus to The White Cliffs of Dover. I don't think I've ever been so happy.
...Copper, pewter, and iron. The metals that harken back to metalsmiths hammering over flames. Sturdy, powerful, and meant to withstand whatever life throws at it. Nothing petite or gentle here.
This is far from an all-inclusive list. I have a thing about a whole hell of a lot more than just these. But these are the ones that I have been reminded of recently. They are some of the things that make me core happy, and core happy is good.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Monday, August 05, 2013
But...But...
Father Andrew Greeley has died. He died last May. Now, I admit, it's not that long ago and I certainly didn't know the man. But I wish I'd known sooner, nonetheless.
His books made me want to be a writer. If you have read any of his stuff, and then read mine, the influences are not exactly subtle. His Father Blackie novels have delighted me and consoled me and kept me company for years. His theology was liberal and liberating.
In 2008, he suffered traumatic brain injury getting out of a cab. It seems, from what I can find, that was the beginning of the end. Or maybe, it was just because the man was 85, and deserved a rest. Probably both. Regardless, the world will miss him. I will miss him.
Well done, good and faithful servant...Enter into the joy of your lord.
Those are sad Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
His books made me want to be a writer. If you have read any of his stuff, and then read mine, the influences are not exactly subtle. His Father Blackie novels have delighted me and consoled me and kept me company for years. His theology was liberal and liberating.
In 2008, he suffered traumatic brain injury getting out of a cab. It seems, from what I can find, that was the beginning of the end. Or maybe, it was just because the man was 85, and deserved a rest. Probably both. Regardless, the world will miss him. I will miss him.
Well done, good and faithful servant...Enter into the joy of your lord.
Those are sad Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Sunday, August 04, 2013
Self-Awareness Is A Good Thing
I have admitted for years that I have a thing for flying around with big guns, wearing a really great leather vest. And really, when it looks like this:
and this:
who can blame me????
I have also admitted my fondness for my K-Bar.
So, I think it's time to ask myself this question, too:
At what point, indeed.
Leave it to Zoe to combine the gun, vest, and long coat:
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
and this:
who can blame me????
I have also admitted my fondness for my K-Bar.
So, I think it's time to ask myself this question, too:
At what point, indeed.
Leave it to Zoe to combine the gun, vest, and long coat:
 |
| Mind blown. |
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Friday, August 02, 2013
Funny, Because It's True
Offered without comment:
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)