Climbing to the top...

My new job is with a large tent and event company and yesterday I went out with my boss, the president, to view some job sites to make sure everything was in order and the way it should be. 

We arrived on site to a university in NYC where groups of students set up in our large 100'x300' tent for the planned evening festivities. (a dinner dance for parents and graduating seniors)

As we walked around, we were both shocked to find students armed with gloves, large tubs of Vaseline and ladders greasing down the huge aluminum tent poles. He was a little incensed that his poles were being greased and I was a little curious about the whole process. 

It turns out that as the night wears on, the graduates boosted by booze and excitement at completing their courses, think climbing the tent poles is a good idea, and the Vaseline is there as a pre-deteterant for such foolish ideas. 

I found the whole idea so funny and it made me think a few things: 

1. I'm glad there a people in the world who have the foresight to think about staving off these kinds of things.

2. I wish I could see the greased climb attempt actually happen

3. Sometimes we all need a friend to "grease" our way and watch out for us a little when we aren't in shape to watch out for ourselves. Laters. 

I'm A Fiddle Player Too

I was raised in an ultra-conservative environment. The devil was to be eschewed and feared above all else; avoided at any cost. I remember the first time I heard the song “The Devil Went Down To Georgia”  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FgvfRSzmMoU

We moved to New York State in November of 1979. (I've confirmed this with my mother, who never forgets anything) The song was released in May of ’79, so it was a few months old when I heard it for the first time; in the elementary school library. You may wonder, as do I, why it was being played (quite loudly) in the school library. I do not know, but I remember thinking, with all my 6 year old wisdom, “Wow, this IS THE BEST SONG EVERRRR!”
Johnny, had the backbone not only to challenge the devil, but to defeat him in a fiddle playing contest. Then the story got even juicier with the best, most succinct dis from Johnny a 6 year old could imagine: “I've told you once you son-of-a-bitch, I’m the best there’s ever been”

Hoo-whee- my conservative little heart loved it and I sang it mightily under my breath out in the barn where my mother could never hear me say the naughty word. I personally liked the devil’s solo a bit better, but since he caved first and “knew that he’d been beat,” I was proud for Johnny and the coup he got away with by kicking the devil's booty in a hard-core fiddle contest.

Last week, when I walked into the kitchen to hear my boys having a serious discussion about whether the devil’s solo was actually better than Johnny’s, that moment in the library came back to me crystal clear. Still a relevant discussion after all these years. Laters.

Cue A Re-Do

Daughter has come home yet again from school with head lice. This experience, we have had before; at least twice, and the whole process is frustrating. Boys were lackadaisical about the whole deal and refused to submit to the “just in case treatment.” Son B walked past and said to his sister, “stop getting lice” and that was all.  Cue bleach and cleaning frenzy, pillow washing, and home sanitation. Tiring work.
Meat defrosting in the fridge leaked through the plastic wrapper and bag. I open the fridge door for milk to find bloody drips steadily leaking into the “just- yesterday- filled” vegetable crisper. I don’t know… can you scrub meat goo off of cauliflower, mushrooms and bean sprouts?  I can’t be sure, so into the garbage they go. Clue bleach and cleaning frenzy.
Oh, and a pulled back muscle and spasms. I’d suppose from hurriedly pulling fridge glass and shelves out to clean, while running extremely late to work.  You know, due to the extended  morning comb out of waist length hair for lice. Cue quick latte and leaving with wet hair squished into a messy bun.
Cue dropping expensive- to- replace car key directly into foamy latte while trying to start the ignition. Cue tranquility. Cue it now. Laters.

#1

I love my parents. They have honestly done so much for me, that I can't remember and that I don't deserve.  I hope that I've always said thank you to them for all the good things they've passed on to me, but I'm sure I haven't, so thanks mom and dad!!!
I feel like I've talked about my mom a lot but maybe not so much my daddy-o.
He is a real prince- the salt of the earth and probably the greatest gift he gave me is that he made me believe that I could do anything that I wanted. I never knew that gender barriers or glass ceilings existed until I moved away from home; I still think that is remarkable. We grew up with very defined gender roles, so it was less about gender equality or progressive thinking and more that I felt that he trusted me; and that is empowering.
I have so many stories I could tell about him and he is a pretty funny guy, but ultimately, he is my number one fan.  I would say that this story encapsulates my dad perfectly:
Saturday, I went into NYC with my daughter for "girls day" and we met Sarah Jessica Parker (who is divine and charming-just a real sweetheart) and she graciously took a photo with us. (and I got a new pair of shoes from her new line)
A few hours after I excitedly posted my celeb meet-up online, I got the following message from my mother, "Wow, cool. Daddy says you are much prettier." Laters

Pride Goeth Before A Fall

Me and my man have this deal; I take care of him and he takes care of me. I do things like wash his undies and make sure he has toothpaste and deodorant, and a home cooked meal if I’m feeling really special. We’ve read the “Love Languages” book and his is “touch” so I allow him to touch me non-stop at night when we sleep even though I need my space. (You can read about that here I Bear-ly Slept )
As I am into “acts of service,” he does a lot for me, brings me coffee every morning in bed (even when he’s mad at me) and he is my limo driver on Saturdays when I have errands to run and don’t feel like fighting traffic. Also, on Sunday nights we have this thing called “Jacinta is a vegetable” where I basically extend my Sunday afternoon nap into an all night affair. I loll in bed, surfing the web, reading and play solitaire on my laptop and he brings me dinner in bed… it’s so glorious that I really can’t even tell you how much I enjoy it. The kids pop in every once in a while to say hello, but otherwise, it’s just me and my social media.
Twitter is full of rabbit holes and last night I fell into one linked to YouTube. I watched a ton of fashion blogs and make-up tutorials and this morning, since the kids had a 2-hour snow delay- I had some extra time, so I decided to try out my new skills.
I really focused on my eyes, doing dramatic swoops, and careful water-line eyeliner. I also used more than one eye color and outlined my eye crease! I tried some facial contouring, though I noticed in the sunlight that one side of my face ended up looking more “week old bruised” than “contoured,” but I’m sure I’ll get it better next time. I primed and patted, used concealer and all the foundations I had, mixed together just like the videos. It was really quite exhausting.
I felt pretty proud of my glam until my (60- something male) boss came in and said, (and I quote) “Whoa! Do you usually wear make up?” I explained that yes, I usually do, but that I had a bit more time this morning so I took special care. He replied, “You had more time, so you decided to get tarted up?” Ohmegees tarted up??… perhaps “fresh-faced” is a better look for me? Laters.