So, more inspo from ‘Sunday Stealing’. However, I need to vent about summer first.
I hate it. I hate summer even in the depths of winter when the sun’s been AWOL for 9 weeks straight and the roads are a salty gritty mess and parking lots are pockmarked with ginormous puddles of filthy slush and my nose is leakier than Julian Assange. Summer is the worst. I detest being sweaty. The prickly heat beneath my boobs has gone from ‘prickly’ to downright ‘pissed-the-hell-off’. I thought when I stopped menstruating I was finished with blood-stained undergarments. HA! Tell that to my bras and panties. Thanks to the raw meat of my under-boob zone and my chafed inner thighs my lingerie looks like a crime scene. But my physical discomfort is nothing compared to the mental anguish and emotional scarring from the daily assault by…
Look, I try to be fair. I’m a feminist. I truly believe men should be allowed to decorate and paint themselves with the same verve and sparkle that women do. One of my work pals, Nicky, is gender-fluid and despite the receding hairline and facial hair s/he wears nail polish and make-up and away from work favors capris and flouncy smock tops, and I’m down with it. But for the love of all that is pure and holy…men need to put their goddamn feet away! No more flip-flops. No more shower shoes. No more Jesus sandals. Just stop already.
First thing you wash in the shower? My hair. I am a top down shower-er. Along with this seeming the most efficient, when my hair was long I would wash it then leave it packed on top of my head with conditioner while I tended to the rest of my ablutions. My extremely bleached Barbie coif needed TONS of conditioner. My mother once asked me if I washed my hands in the shower, you know, separately as I did my tushie or my feet. I know I gave her my most scornful “How can you BE so dumb?” look and answered with a withering, “I use my hands to wash everything else, duh, they get clean on their own.” Over the years that question has popped into my head again and I ponder what kind of situation would necessitate actual hand-washing during a shower. No answer yet. Do you guys wash your hands in the shower?
Do you plan outfits? I do. A lot of factoring goes into it too. Weather, obviously. Appropriateness to the occasion. Whether I need pockets. Comfort. But sometimes what I need to say with my attire is paramount. “Hello. I will be fabulous at this job!” “I’m doing really well, thanks. How are you?” Once in a while my outfit is a subtle “Fuck you.” For instance a summer gathering at SIL’s. She and her friends are VERY sporty. Golf and tennis all day, boozing all night. SIL and crew all wear tankini tops and skorts over their leathery tanned hard bodies. And I keep my pale fluffy self cool with a floaty gauze dress and shaded with a ginormous straw sunhat.
I’ve gotten enough ‘tude from that crowd to want to give a little back. Whether they get the thumbed nose at their insular Mean Girl country club gang or not I know it’s there.
Is there a time of day when you are more likely to buy food already prepared? At the end of my shift, especially if I have to shop when it’s the end of the work week too. I’ve already done dozens of other people’s grocery shopping for days and days and I’m fried. I will totally hit the sushi bar, grab a rotisserie chicken or two, some wraps for Mick’s lunches at the deli, and even pre-chopped veggies from produce if I’m really weary. Plus when I buy a pork or beef tenderloin now I always have the butchers cut it for me. I used to do it at home – peeling off the silver skin and measuring, marking, and cutting all the chops, steaks, and roasts, then wrapping it all in separate meal bundles. Not anymore! I flop that thing onto the window shelf at the butchery, smile nicely and say, “Five and five 1/2″ chops, please, with a 2 lb wide end roast, and the rest slivered for stir-fry. Thanks, Jack!” (Or Charlie or Frank) I am still hella thrifty, but I’ve learned my time and energy have value too. Spend in one way and save in another.
This isn’t a meme question exactly- the other day Mick and I were on the front porch just hanging around. After a lengthy quiet he asked, “Whatcha thinking about, Baby?” And I said, “You know those time travel questions? Like ‘If you could kill Hitler?’ or ‘Stop JFK’s assassination?'” “Of course.” “Well, I was thinking about lunch counters during the Civil Rights Era. What if during the lunch counter sit-ins I was the waitress? What if I just smiled, flipped open my order pad, and said, ‘What can I get you folks?’ Nicely. Would that have changed anything?”
Mick actually flinched. “Baby! You’d have been killed! At the very least drug outside and beaten and arrested!” (Even hypothetical scenarios where I might get hurt distress him.) To which I told Mick that it didn’t matter. What mattered was introducing normalcy to a screwed-up situation. “Look, somebody had to rent an apartment to that first interracial couple. Somebody had to agree to officiate the first same-sex wedding. What if I could go back and be the somebody who took a lunch order at Woolworth’s? How cool would that be?”
So my question to you, besides the hand washing thing, is: If you could set something in motion or establish a precedent or invent a thing that just might make a difference now what would it be?
Answer here or at your own blog or on FB or go do it right now and keep tabs on the results and let me know later, it’s all fine.
In the meantime know that I love you lots even when I’m very sweaty and cranky, ~LA