All posts tagged: Pithy

Snowball

Putting things off does not make them go away.  HOW do I not remember that every single time I feel like I am drowning in a sea of to-dos? Taxes, insurance, dues, etc etc.  The annual things are most fun, especially when they are all scheduled at the same time. This is my Sunday night.  Monday better not piss me off.

The Very Moment

White Rabbit moments.  “I’m late I’m late!  For very important date!”  Alice in Wonderland The very moment I decide to increase my savings contributions I hate all of my workout clothes and want to buy new gear in the exact same shade of nondescript black in the same nondescript style to supposedly freshen up my routine. The very moment I am finally going to the farmers’ market for the day, I realize I have zero cash on hand and need to sort through the ten pound box of coins I have at home with the hopes I can buy at least two heads of kale or maybe some organic, cage free, etc etc eggs with the change in my pouch. The very moment I am due to be at the shuttle stop for work I decide to start getting ready for it. The very moment I map out my itinerary for the bus I find I have missed it and end up taking an Uber anyway. The very moment our plane tickets for our Christmas vacation …

The Bag Lady

I have bags of stuff everywhere.   Prior to having company over, a good hostess will spend her time tidying up her apartment,  mainly concentrating on the bathroom and the crevices of the floors, and legs of furniture where dust accumulates if she needs to get her home party ready in a flash.  She also needs to get rid of clutter.  I read once in an entertaining guide in the 90s that you could potentially use the tub for surplus storage, but your guests need only to draw the curtain and you will be busted on the spot.  So I think women started filling their  tubs with water and burning floating candles there instead.  Neither has ever been an option for me, but that is not the point of this post.     Whole Foods, TJs, Vanessa Bruno, what have you… Gotta bag? I likely have crap to store in it. I have crap everywhere and I simply dump whatever is scattered on the dining table into reusable shopping bags or totes I have stored …

That Girl

I am that girl who asks the questions she really can’t handle the answers to. I am that girl who misplaces her neck cream and finds it days later under her bed. I am that girl who plays imaginary Go Fish with invisible cards at a table of two year olds. I am that girl who gets nostalgic each time she makes a smoothie in the blender she received as a wedding gift. I am that girl who lives for heels but lives in flats. I am that girl who hoards paper and stationery. I am that girl who used to paint and draw. I am that girl who buys fresh ginger week after week just to find them all shriveled on the kitchen countertop month after month. I am that girl who has half used tubes of lotion and random lipgloss in each and every bag. I am that girl who can pull splinters out of tiny hands with her finger tips, pick tan bark out of a preschooler’s nostril, and clear pebbles out …

If These Shoes Could Talk

My intention was to buy a top.  A top for my new spring pants.  Walking past the shoe salon proved challenging.  I poked around to jog my memory for what to pull from my own shoe closet.  We all know it never ends there.  It hardly ever does end at looking, does it? If these shoes could talk, they’d say: I go with everything. Barre and Pilates classes, even if taken four days a week, won’t get you standing taller than I can. Yes, they WILL notice. Does it really matter whether or not you can stand around or dance comfortably in me? After a few drinks, you won’t care. Even if you  convince yourself I am similar to another pair you have, you want me anyway. I don’t cost THAT much. Yes, you deserve it. Well that settles that, doesn’t it?

Lessons from My Laundry

If there is something that I have been figuring out this week (and aren’t I always figuring out something)   is that things seem to fall into place right when you take a breath.  I wonder if it’s the way laundry feels, being tousled and turned in the washing machine.   Front loaded or not, it is still disorienting for the clothes, even though it is supposed to be gentler than a conventional machine.  They get whipped around, first hot, then cold, drenched, drained, soaked, rinsed, and spun once more.  All in the effort of getting them clean and back to normal.  I wonder if the clothes are like me, knowing that the wash is a periodic part of life that gets us back to our cores while testing our strength and resilience.  Delicates or not, the laundry can’t wait for the drum to stop and for the long awaited time to hang out on the drying rack to commence. Real time photo of my laundry drying on our trusted rack…the most relaxing period in …

Three Shots Are Better Than One

There is the ideal recipe for a night or day out with different friends.  Depending on the cooks and what is on the menu, the ingredients are varied.  For example, a giant donut, old jokes and divulging new secrets are necessary for an annual Sleepover Tradition.  Throat chakra exercises, sun salutations under a clear sky, and uninhibited ‘festival girl’ dancing made  A Girls’ Day Inward one worth repeating.  The walk and talk on a brisk evening bring to mind My Favorite Kind of Date. The menu for an evening with Salty Sweet and Dynamo Dish last week had to include our shared passion for cocktails, food and delicious conversation. Our night entailed confessions of our sad dependence on peak hour Uber rides, lively discussions on passionate career pursuits, the importance of House of Cards, and some brow-raising conversation. The kind of conversation between women where the tones are typically as hushed as the laughs are loud. Throwing a surly male server our way subconsciously begging to be won over made the night complete.  His veiled indifference was no …

Wash It All Away

I prided myself this week on kicking jet lag’s arse … until this weekend rolled around and it kicked mine. You know when you are expecting the worse of something, jet lag, heartache, fear, and you think, “Oh.. hmmm… hadn’t noticed anything,”  and you are able to go on with your day.  Then two days later you think, “Wow, I really am okay.  I really am getting through the week without being affected. I hadn’t even THOUGHT about it …  tsss.. I’ve GOT this.”  And then “wham” insomnia, late night binge eating, grumpiness, moodiness, etc hits you like a bat to the knee and you are left crippled to some extent with nothing to do but take a break, heal, and go through the paces required to get back on your feet.  It’s only temporary really, but still, there’s no where to run, nowhere to hide. This weekend I suffered from some general uneasiness, but given my usual positive point of view, (though it may not have seemed that way from my past few posts) …

Connecting The Dots (even earlier)

An even earlier memory I have of being enamored with someone as a little girl was in nursery school.    Every day, I played in the yard and sat with my friends listening to tales about a calico cat and other assorted post-toddler adventures.  I recall checking to see here and there where Spots and Stripes was sitting at story time.   Thanks to the class picture that hung in our home for years,  I will always remember him wearing powder blue corduroys and a striped mock turtle neck shirt.  The appeal here lay in our shared interests.   We both giggled while riding the rocking boat and would both dump sand out of the sensory table just so we could use the carpet sweeper to clean it up.  When the Gingerbread Man seemingly leaped out of the school oven sending the teachers and children of the Blue Room (or maybe we were from the Red Room, see my memory isn’t THAT impressive!) on a wild goose chase, Spots and Stripes was as awestruck as …

Cookies Make Me Happy

From the time I started eating solids as a baby up until the summer of 2013, I am certain my body composition had been at least 50% baked goods, primarily cookies.   Weaning myself off of these indulgent, starchy, buttery and gluten dense treats was no easy task, I assure you.  It’s kind of like Picasso’s Blue Period…  a very melancholic time for this gal.  But no fear, as there are bakers in the Bay Area who make some amazing BP friendly goodies (hooray for Flour Chylde and Mariposa Baking!).   I do however, still need to have some recipes in the old brain that I can whip up myself or to cook with kids.   The quickest and easier foray I have had into the homemade gf & df cookie world is a recipe I found at The Voluptuous Vegetarian over two years ago and adapted with permission from the VV herself, Stacey,  for Classic Play readers. To get the scoop on why they make me happy and how to make them yourself, please …