Moon Dance

It’s a full moon tonight.  A good one, too.  Where the sweat of the day has collected into wispy clouds that are currently taunting the moon with their elusiveness.   It is my hopes that you find yourself in this noteworthy moment with someone that, if they had a chance to notice, appreciates the show.  And if not, well, trust me, you’ve missed a good one.

And yes, I think I will have another.

A Champagne Toast

Why three glasses of champagne you ask?

Well, as I sit here laughing at myself for kissing a boy in public last night, it occurred to me that this week marks my one year ‘Blogoversary’!  I built my little virtual playground on July 13, 2009.  So if you will, take this virtual glass of champagne as I offer up a toast:

To my three faithful followers:  Thank you for sticking with me through the good posts, (such as An Afternoon with Tom)  the bad posts (such as Dear Potential Homebuyers) and the drunken posts, such as…well…almost all the other posts.  I will continue to strive to keep you at least moderately entertained.

“Salute!”

Now, has anybody seen that boy I was kissin’ last night?

“Amazing”

I am naive.  No, really I am.  Especially when it comes to swimming in shark infested waters.  I’ve heard about the precautions you should take, but I guess I’ve had the same mentality of those people that say, “Oh it’ll never happen to me.  I’m careful.”  Bleh.

I don’t even know how it came up.  I wish I could because anytime you’re witness to a bomb dropping, chances are, you are experiencing something that raises your eyebrows.  One of those moments like “where were you when you heard…?”

But I’m not mad because the funny thing is, while I’ve been on this sabbatical, life has happened to a lot of people.  And while I’ve been having the time of my life, there are some things, heartbreaking things, that are happening to people and they don’t even realize it.  Right now, they probably don’t see the light at the end of tunnel.  It’s real bad, and everyday when the alarm clock goes off, they reluctantly peek out from under their bedsheets in the hopes that it was all a bad dream.  And when they shake the cobwebs from their brain and realize it’s all a reality, they take a deep breath and say, “I’ve only got 15 more hours until I don’t have to think about it anymore.”

It makes me incredibly sad in a helpless sort of way.  Where you wish you could put your arm around the person’s shoulder, take them to the crystal ball and show them that everything will be OK.  But I can’t.  So I sit back and try to find solace by telling myself that life’s lessons are best learned the hard way.  Hell, that’s how I learned, and look at ‘ol girl now!  Ahhh-yah-yahhh.

Like Steve Tyler said, “So I’m sayin’ a prayer for the desperate hearts tonight.”

Who Really Cares?

What is the determining factor of someone’s type?  C’mon, you know what I mean by ‘type’.  Chest hair?  No socks?  Beer guzzler?  Cowboy hat?  Hair product?  Intellectual?  I guess everyone has a ‘type’, but the question is, what is the differentiation between your type and the type that someone else has in mind for you?  What is it that they’re seeing that you don’t even realize you’re portraying?  Meaning, if you have in mind your type, and they have in mind something different…what does that mean?  What are you sharing with the world?  I suppose the better question should be…

Who really cares?  However, I still wonder.

Today’s Assignment

Yes, you’ve probably heard this song.  Yes, it was made popular by an American Idol contestant a few years ago.  Yes it makes me sad that I had not heard it until then.  And yes, it’s now on the latest Shrek soundtrack.  But do me a favor and emerge yourself in all this song has to offer by watching this:  Hallelujah (Performed by Rufus Wainwright) while reading along to these:

Hallelujah (Lyrics by Leonard Cohen)

I’ve heard there was a secret chord
That David played, and it pleased the Lord
But you don’t really care for music, do you?
It goes like this
The fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty in the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you to a kitchen chair
She broke your throne, she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Maybe I’ve been here before
I know this room, I’ve walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew you
I’ve seen your flag on the marble arch
love is not a victory march
It’s a cold and it’s a broken hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

There was a time you’d let me know
What’s real and going on below
But now you never show it to me do you?
Remember when I moved in you?
The holy dark was moving too (ed note:  I’ve seen lyrics where the holy dark was referred to as the Holy Dove.)
And every breath we drew was hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Maybe there’s a God above
And all I ever learned from love
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you
It’s not a cry you can hear at night
It’s not somebody who’s seen the light
It’s a cold and it’s a broken hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

OK, the floor is now open for discussion.  Who wants to begin?

Running of the Bulls in New Orleans?

San Fermin in Neuva Orleans:  The Running of the Bulls in New Orleans. (Check out their website.)

When I first heard about this event about a month ago, I thought:  ”Hilarious!  I wish I would have thought of that.”  No, I am not a  roller derby girl.  (I don’t like to fall, remember.) I did, however, roller-skate frequently as a kid and there’s this one time I donned red fishnet pantyhose (remember AE?)…a stretch I know, but I still think this would be quite the entertaining event.

Yet one more reason why I love New Orleans.

San Fermin in Neuva Orleans

San Fermin in Neuva Orleans

San Fermin in Neuva Orleans

The Urban Chicken

This post is dedicated to my favorite urban chicken farmer.  Chicken coops never looked so cool!

http://www.gcbl.org/image/trailer-hen-house

www.chickencribs.com

http://www.yankodesign.com/2008/11/18/chicken-heaven/

http://www.mypetchicken.com/catalog/Chicken-Coops/The-Saltbox-Coop-with-Run-3-4-chickens-p697.aspx

Would This Be Considered a Facebook Status?

…moments away from howling at the moon on the eve of my favorite holiday of the year while singing ” Where I’m From” along with Shelby Lynne in the privacy of my own home.  Damn, life is good.

Art. That is All.

**For all of my Cliff’s Notes followers, this is a very graphic (no, not that kind of graphic) post, of which will serve no purpose unless you see the pictures I’ve shared.**

If you’ve ever shopped for art, or rather, prints needed to take up wall space in your dwelling (Think Old Time Pottery, Michael’s or Hobby Lobby) I know for a fact you’ve seen this print:

Jack Vettriano "The Singing Butler"

You may have even seen other prints such as this one:

Jack Vettriano

Or even this one.

Jack Vettriano

But did you know he also produced art such as the following, of which I know for a FACT I’ve never seen at the aforementioned retail outlets:

"Night Calls II" Jack Vettriano

Yes, thigh-highs are uncomfortable but I have to admit, they are sexy.

"Along Came a Spider" Jack Vettriano

Same with long satin gloves.  And yes, I’ve worn them before.

"The Embrace of the Spider" Jack Vettriano

Are those suspenders I see?

"Pincer Movement" by Jack Vettriano

Nice.

"Dancer for Money" Jack Vettriano

Again, thigh-highs.  And a prominent cigarette.  I don’t think this painting would have been as hot without it.

"Motel Love II" Jack Vettriano

Another cigarette.  Two as a matter of fact.

"Game On" Jack Vettriano

Yeah.  Umm…

***

There you have it.  In addition to giving credit to the artist, I also wanted to share the oh-so smart names of the paintings.  Plus, I’m thinking it hasn’t been since the Virginia Slims lady that smoking has been so sexy.  And did I mention I’m a sucker for suspenders?  I’ll stop while I’m ahead with my own commentary because it seems I’ve gotten a bit carried away.   That is all.

(P.s.  Don’t think I don’t hear the snide comments.)

Time to Analyze

I dream often it’s just rare that I remember and its even more rare that a dream sticks with me well into the morning.  This is one of those so I have to get it out of my head and out into the cosmos.  I can identify the origin of some of the content, but  not all.  Care to give it a shot?

Me cooking cod fish = Watching Daisy Cooks last night, a cooking show on PBS where the hostess was cooking mussels and cod fish for a dinner party.  Daisy advised us that you have to be careful with cod fish because it’s very delicate and can flake apart.  Turns out I remembered that snippet as I was very gentle with the fish in my dream.

Living in a wrecked house with broken furniture where my roommates consisted of AE, a girl I use to work with, and some other people I didn’t know = Well, umm, I’m not sure.  I’m gonna have to dig into that one.  Wrecked house = my house not selling?  Broken furniture = Good Lord, the sky’s the limit on that one!  Broken heart?  Broken dreams?  Being broke!  I understand being roommates with AE, but not the girl I use to work with.  Maybe because I thought she was hot, and who doesn’t want to have hot people hanging around?

AE and I attending a Baptist church service where AE fled the church when the preacher attempted to cover the entire congregation with a giant blanket.  And later I witnessed stage props collapse on top of the participants of a sketch.  Let’s see, I always find it particularly interesting when I dream about religion.  This dream didn’t have a very positive overture so I am not sure what that’s about.  I personally enjoyed church this past Sunday as it addressed something that I’ve been struggling with for quite some time now.  Just sayin’.  So what’s it all mean?  I know AE doesn’t have a problem with organized religion, but I am not sure how she feels about giant blankets.  As for the collapsing props…ooh, the rescheduling of the Jimmy Buffett concert out of fear the integrity of the stage would be compromised?  That seems silly and I should be ashamed that I would even mildly compare Jimmy Buffett to a church play.

On a side note, kudos to me for getting the grass cut just in the nick of time!  Now I hope it rains all day.  My air conditioner, of which has been running 24/7 for the past three weeks, could certainly use a break.