Back in the Saddleblog

Brief but ghastly and violent bout of something (food poisoning? flu? cholera?) silenced me for a few days. (NOTHING can shut me up for very long.) As I'm too weak to type -






no, seriously.




(Exhibit A)



I'll stick to pictures, mostly. Just for today.
Exhibit B: Define"promotional."


"Promotional Ficus"
1. It was at the very back of the SupahWa'Mart
2. Between the Plastic Slippers Final Sale and the cargo door to the Way, Way Back (Authorized Personel Only),
3. On a shelf containing 2 other lonely ficii, and nothing else,
4. With no explanatory signage, posters... nothin.

So, help me out here...?


Continuing Features:


Yesterday's Shews: gaga-geometric canvas sneakers.(a.k.a. Barbie Bowling Shoes). Comfy and perky.
Mood Implications: Perky, "Look at my sassy li'l self!" attention- seeking; or, conversely, "very bad day ahead, these might sustain me."






Today's OoA: B/W photo of Grampa Alberto and family.
Coral Gables, Florida. c.1942(?).
That's Daddy on the right. The little scamp.
[Edit: he does not have a black eye. Bad photo of photo]






Exhibit A is an illustration from The Window at the White Cat by Mary Roberts Rinehart (publ. 1910)

Pop Culture Maven

It says something (not anything good) about the level of cultural discourse that is my natural milieu, that I recently had the honor of explaining the meaning of camel toe and polterwang to my circle of friends. On the same day.
I am not going to define these terms here, because my Mom reads this, so look at the links if you want clarification. (Mom, I'll tell you in person if you're curious.)
When the first of these terms dropped and met with confused silence, The Him's guy radar went off and he left the room very quickly. I ordered the other males to leave then, so I could utter sacred words of revelation, so they'd hear it from their wives later and not from me.
This event illustrates the downside of being a word junkie. I am attracted to unusual words, slang, acronyms, jargon, and all of that. I derive pleasure from knowing just the right word. This may sound very scholarly and elevated, but seems to result in me being the one who knows all the bad words. Is there such a thing as borderline Tourette's? Granted I take a childish delight in being the one knowing, but as I am a blurter, opportunities for saying EXACTLY the wrong thing to the wrong person are exponentially increased.
On the upside, it will generate myriad opportunities for embarrassing my daughter when she is a teenager.





Today's Shews: (post-church): black leather thong sandals. It's 72 degrees here, people. BTW my feet are not hairy, the sandals are a little frayed. Oh and you can see what I was talking about viz. wide feet.





Today's OoA: brand new Calphalon cookie sheets, a Christmas gift from my BIL. Those cookies are tasty, let me tell you. I'm eating one right now. Not a single one burned. Thank you, Hank.

Grab Bag

Today's Shews: Teva river shoes. Drip dry, aerated, excellent traction, all-weather vehicles.

Mood Implications: Brisk Efficiency mode, vaguely techno-eco-chic

These little gems are almost bare-foot comfortable. I have big, wide feet, my Dad's genetic inheritance, and most shoes hurt, so I go without most of the time unless the temperature goes below freezing, it's snowing, or I'm in church. I often kick my shoes off in the car and put them on only when I have to go into a place of business. I take "No shirt, no shoes, no service" very personally -- though I have always wanted to see how fast I'd get served if I was shirtless, or if doing so would be worth it to get away with the barefoot thing.

Also they're so ugly they make me feel very European, which helps on some days, since I don't smoke.

OoA: Thomas' English Muffins

Dad is forgiven for the giant-feet DNA, because he is generally awesome otherwise such as bringing lovely and thoughtful gifts like this. Daddy brought me these from Town when he was last that way. [Women in the South are allowed to call their fathers "Daddy" all their lives without censure. So its a good thing i live where I do.] We don't get Thomas' here in these parts. The indigenous brand is "Bays"which are innoffensive - they do not sink to the level of, say, Hydrox -- but just not up to the gold standard. Thomas' are part of my family's birthright courtesy of Dad's brief but gloriously remembered employment at the Thomas' bakery in NYC. The Thomas' Stories are part of our holiday repertoire, like 8 part harmony hymns, Uncle Ray's jokes, and the entire score of The Music Man. Thank you, Daddy.

And I confess I kind of like the big feet, they make me feel sturdy.

Last but not least, Must Look:

http://apod.nasa.gov/apod/astropix.html

[Blank] of the Day

Today's Shews: brown leather driving mocs w/shearling lining, supinate wear, paint splatters. Default shew setting.
Mood Implication: (+/-), have not yet left house at time of post.

Today's Object of Affection: [henceforth OoA]

"Bonjour" coffee bowl. 4 for .49/ea. at GoodWill. This holds more than a pint of coffee. And it has French on it.