...to the end of the road

It is the eve of New Year's Eve. A natural time to take stock. I only reluctantly want to do any stock taking. I used to be excited about resolutions. But the new car smell has truly worn off all of my great past proclamations. I have not lost that weight. I am not debt free. I do not speak Spanish. I cannot play the piano. I have not submitted a manuscript to a publishing house. I still work for the MAN. When you are good and grown, life is full of plans gone awry. I don't mean to sound depressed, because I'm not. Things just are what they are.
I have done lots of other stuff, met many worthwhile people, and even loved some of them. I hope I have made good use of my time and myself.
This blog was started as a "creative outlet" (sounds so cheesy and trite. I know). My goal was to post at least one entry per month. I sort of made that. I think I missed November. Now I am ready to shut this literary landmark down. I have other plans which don't include this blog. I had fun. I posted some cool photographs. Now this experiment is over. So long, and farewell dear readers, I will see you in the blogosphere.

to be continued. . .Love M.

With sincere appreciation

Miss Faye
My Mother is of a certain age. She is no doubt the biggest influence of my life. I have learned so much from her and I am often hearing her voice in my ear. My Mother's personality is huge, she fills up a room and will not ever be ignored. She is the center of attention, Queen Bee, Grand Dame. That is how I see her now and always.
Although she has softened with age, she is not warm and fuzzy. She does not display or tolerate shows of emotion easily. She is proud. She is high spirited and high maintenance. She is smart. She is funny. She is beautiful. She raised us "old school", with bed times, chores and whuppins when needed. Back talk, eye rolling, and stomping away were not options we could exercise.
I think like a lot of people my age, I am constantly amazed at how much better equipped people of my mother's generation seemed to be to handle adulthood. When my Mother was my age, she had three daughters, a grown son, grandchildren, two ex-husbands, a boyfriend or two, a full social calendar, and a full time job. She has done it all. She has traveled, socialized, entertained, cooked, decorated, single-handedly raised kids, and run her homes. I can't even remember to feed my dog from day to day.

I love this picture of Mama, because she looks conservative and genteel. The picture is a lie, it is only a moment in time. What is true about the photograph is the absolute class and glamour which my Mother has always easily possessed. She is a charming woman and I will always be enchanted by her.

Love M.

The Power of Pretty

LaDonna Adrian Gaines aka Donna Summer
Dec 1948 - May 2012

I am not qualified to describe her vocal range. I am not sure about her discography. I don't know much about her life. I am only a reborn fan of her music. When I first saw her on television way back in the day, I could not believe how boldly beautiful she was. This was long before lace fronts and Youtube. While I give many kudos to Diana Ross and Chaka Kahn (for their hair wearing ways), it was Donna to whom I most related. I don't know why. I think it was the first time I ever realized the "power of pretty". I have no doubt that she was also intelligent and loving, but that is not what I am talking about.
It is curious that I related to her at all, because "pretty" was not my experience in elementary, junior high school, high school or college. I have pictures to prove it, which will not be posted here. Ever. Under any circumstance.
Pretty is not perfection. Pretty is a way of life. It is a discipline. Pretty is hard work. Pretty creates opportunities. Pretty is as pretty does. Pretty is something we can all be.
Thank you, and Rest in Peace, Ms. Summer.

Inspired by Design

 Dear Readers,
A couple of days ago I was trolling around a few of my favorite blogs. As one thing leads to another, I often stumble on to some really great stuff by accident. For instance, I was checking out Fashionnette-work.blogspot.com, and I noticed marleysimonestyle.com. While viewing the Marley Simone site I came upon one of her postings on the style of Ulyana Sergeenko (Russian Photographer/Designer).

Ulyana Sergeenko

 Ms. Sergeenko was wearing a black headband, and brightly colored lips (I coincidentally, have recently committed to very red lipstick - don't ask, I may be having an '80's Sade flashback, anyways. . .). It was art plus love to my eyes. I was immediately obsessed with that headband.
Additionally, the Sergeenko designs shown had that sort of 50's/60's timeless feminine glamour. Who doesn't love that? No one that's who.

Because I was in between doing constructive, yet mundane tasks, (next week's laundry/grocery shopping/cleaning the bathroom/balancing checkbook/picking foxtails out of Buddy's fur) I decided to hop on over to Hobby Lobby to purchase the materials to make a headband similar to my new BFF Ulyana. Let me say this - Hobby Lobby is a very strange place. I will probably not go there again. It was a little too Suburban Stepford Housewives for me, and there were too many husbands there for my taste. Weird right?

 I made the headband in Panera's while eating a sandwich and watching a very bad movie (on my beloved Samsung Galaxy Tablet - yeah boy!) about corrupt Brazilian politicians.The photos above represent my interpretation of feminine glamour all wrapped up in the magic and mystery of Mignonne.Sounds fantastic and looks like fashion. By the way my super fly cat eye sunglasses are from retrocitysunglasses.com. I got them for about $10. Not bad eh? Better get you some.

 Love M.

Deeeeep deeeep scurry

 Time is where we are
And time is where we've been
Time is being lost
And found again..

Alandra Nicole Moreira 

Where have I been? What have I been doing? With what have I been preoccupied? Hard to say. A month here and a day there and the next thing you know a decade has flown by. In January I will have been married for 10 years. A significant block of one's life, I think anyone would agree.  It too has blown past me, without examination, at times, and with obsessive examination at other times.
A comment was made yesterday about knowing the "important" from the "mundane". It was said that a good 85% of what we do is mundane (scurrying about for nothing in particular). Maybe 15% of our time is spent on important activities focused on a specific and meaningful goal.

I would venture to say that time spent in my work inbox, with its 374 emails at any given time, is not time well spent. In fact, the time and effort exerted, have little or no payoff and do not come near to adding up to something that feels like meeting meaningful and specific goals. I have a particular pet peeve about work emails and the phenomena of emails in the workplace. I have "email rage" fantasies in which I glue together the fingers of the next person who unnecessarily hits "reply to all". Too strong? Well too bad, 'cuz I sorta mean it.
Reeling myself back in...So anyway, I hate to admit it but I have been completely immersed in mundane, unimportant, hamster wheel spinning, tasks.
How does that make me feel? Stoooopid.

So I have resolved (oh no):

1. To make better choices about tasks in which I choose to engage.

2. To have some sort of goal for the day (especially at work).

3. To give up some control and to gain some control.

Love M.

More randomness from the house of M.

Freedom of Speech

When I was a young girl growing up in Compton, California we had a next door neighbor named Mrs. Tillman. I didn’t know much about her except that she was gentle lady who had a husband, two sons, and Doberman Pinscher named Big Boy. Big Boy was seriously antisocial. Each time we entered or exited our kitchen on their side of our house, we would be met by Big Boy’s vicious growling and barking. There was a brick wall between our homes and he was able to jump high enough for us to see his bared fangs (yes child, fangs!) over the wall. Since the homes were close in proximity, each time Big Boy jumped he was approximately two feet away from our faces if we were on the kitchen porch. It was not uncommon for us to be going into the house yelling, “Shut up Big Boy!” or “Stupid Dog”.

One day  it was my turn to wash dishes and I heard Mrs. Tillman out in her backyard. I am not sure what she doing, but I knew Big Boy was always in the backyard. He never growled or barked at her. Anyway I overheard Mrs. Tillman say, “Big Boy you’re running around here like a bat out of umph!”

For some reason I felt moved to repeat this to my mother. To which she replied with much disdain, “That’s a damned shame, she can’t even cuss in her own backyard!” I love my mother.

Come aboard, we're expecting you. . .

I went to Catalina Island with some friends last month. I imagine we all had our reasons for going there. While I like the idea of having our own personal island only an hour away, I am not inclined to visit. I love Catalina, but it is a pain in several body parts to get there and be there. Let me elaborate. Please. 

The parking for Balboa Pavillion ($12) is about 4 blocks away from boarding. The line to get on the boat was crazy long. I hurt my knee going up the stairs to the top deck of the boat. It was freezing cold on the way there and on the way back. The whole time I was on the island I was worried about missing my departure boat. I had serious regrets about not wearing socks with my “Vans” a la Payless. Bathrooms were few and far between. It was hot. I had too much stuff with me and I was short and fat. Other than that I had a good time.

If the pills don't work the m & m's will

The line goes on and on

Silliness

ONE PERSON'S PERCEPTION DOES NOT THE TRUTH MAKE. . .

The other day my younger sister and I were preparing to go to lunch and she complimented my hair (a short wig, with sort of long bangs). She's all like, "That's really cute", and I'm all like, "Thank You", and immediately go in to my trademark "poochie lip pose", throwing up the deuces and everything. Then she goes, "Don't do that!", and "Why do you do that?"
I said, "I do it because I look cute that way". Then she said in all seriousness, "No you don't".  I beg to differ.

I have very fond memories about this hair, and therefore am okay with the photo, lips and all.

Dear husband Will, tries to keep a lid on it, but I apparently cannot be contained. Best he can do is just ignore it and get his pose on. Good job!

Couldn't help myself. Big Sis also ignored me.