Mom

Happy Birthday to the best broad I know. She is the reason I'm a little sassy. She is the reason I love a good adventure. She taught me that tolerance and toughness are not mutually exclusive. She taught me there is great strength in saying what you mean and doing what you say. She taught me being your authentic self is the only way to be truly happy, even if it means you like the Red Wings AND Blackhawks, and she taught me great resilience by making me a Cubs fan.  She is always on deck to help whether it's sitting by a hospital bed or shooing a snapping turtle out of traffic and back into Cedar Lake. She helps me plant my roots, but she never clips my wings. She is my balance, she is my backbone and I am only badass by proxy- because she is my mother.

Oh, My Love It's You That I Dream Of, Oh My Love, Since That Day, Somewhere In My Heart I Am Always Dancin' With You In The Summer Rain

I would not normally blog twice in one day, but my boss is gone, I finished all of my work yesterday and I just had one of those perfect outdoor experiences.

I was at my apartment packing up for the weekend and I heard a noise, looked out and realized it was raining. No big. Love it. Doing nothing outdoors today.

On the way back to work, I stopped to fill up my car and it was just one of those perfect spring rains. Yesterday was soooooo hot, so that warmth still hangs in the air. Not enough to make the pavement steam when the rain hits, but enough that you can smell it. The breeze isn't cold anymore, it's perfectly refreshing and the rain is falling straight down which makes me safe to watch from under the awning of the gas pump.

The air delicately blows the little hairs around my face and I can see them start to curl on the ends from the moisture. The orange in my hair stands out perfectly on days like today when the sky is grey and the light is true instead of bleached out by the sun. I bet if I looked in a mirror while in that time getting gas, my eyes wouldn't have a speck of light blue, only dark grey or navy just like my mom's.

I love these days at the beginning of summer. When a super hot day is followed by a cooler, wetter day where we can all stand in the shop and grill the leftover hot dogs from yesterday's sunny cookout and watch the rain make all the budding leaves and even brighter shade of green.

Oh summer. I missed you so hard during this long, cold winter and no matter how much I sweat, I shall not complain about you even once. xoxo

Summer Is Stressful

A while back I got all hamboned and declared this "THE SUMMER OF LIVE MUSIC AND OTHER GREAT OUTDOOR ACTIVITIES!". I sort of forgot about that, but then accidentally, I started shaping up my summer activities calendar quite nicely.

I have been wanting to see Kings of Leon again for quite some time now and at first, their tour was taking them anywhere but near me and I got all fucking bent about it. Luckily, they added dates and I secretly bought tickets for that already. (shhhh, it's a surprise) Plus, its a Friday night so I can go total ape shit and hopefully just barely be aware of how loudly I'm singing when they play Sex on Fire.

I also wanted to see Ellie again because I'm beyond obsessed, but she only came to Windsor and the US Government still hasn't approved my passport. So whatever. I saw her twice last year, I should call it good until a new album comes out.

Dave. Duh. That's all set, but it's a week night and I'm not sure I'm quite into being sober for that, so we'll see how it plays.

VERY excited to see Ray LaMontagne!!! I have been wanting to groove out to that sonofabitch since getting a little taste of him in Chicago, so that will be great!

I really reallyreallyreally want to see Banks, but it looks like she's only touring places I will not be able to get to. This makes me sad. I'm trying to pay Mike to go see her in Portland and bootleg the entire show for me on his phone. He's less than willing...

I would LOVE to see The Weeknd as well, but he's opening for either Drake (no thanks) or JT (this means nosebleeds unless I beg for great seats and I already get those for sporting events if I swear not to be on my phone during said event.) I'm just not ready to have to deal with a JT concert after the silky smooth sex vibe of The Weeknd. I'd rather see him in a small venue where he's the headliner and I can have sex directly after, possibly in the car. (you'll always get caught having sex in stadium bathrooms, no matter how crafty you think you are. Trust me.)

My friends Charlotte and Tony are also attempting to get me to a few rap shows with them. I eagerly volunteered to see T.I., because fuck yes, but I'm pretty "meh" about Young Jeezy. They warned me that I better "get hood" because they've "been burned before" by one of my other girlfriends complaining the entire show. I assured them I'd have no issues. I did the T.I. video for "What You Know" so I can GET HOOD.

Charlotte would also like to see Tori Amos and I agreed, but I don't even see when she's playing in the United States....that's still up in the air.

I'd also like to see Miguel, but that doesn't appear possible.....plus he kicks his audience in the head.

I really need to figure out what we're doing for 4th of July.....shit....

DEATH BY C&O GARLIC KNOTS!

FREE FUCKING BREAD

Above I have provided one of the best and most helpful posts Buzzfeed has ever displayed. (I also thought the one about tips on maintaining your herb garden was great, but I realize I'm an old lady gardener and most people are, in fact, not)

In my life, there is now a large population of fancy people. I love them dearly, I enjoy learning from them, but if you can't commiserate with me on "accidentally" eating the entire basket of Cheddar Bay Biscuits from Red Lobster, then where does our relationship go from here?

If I sit through a dinner at The Little Club with you where I have to remind myself that my voice must remain below a certain volume at all times, no matter how drunk I am, you can damn well sit through at least 2 baskets of CBBs with me while quietly complaining "you know, I'm not even sure this is real lobster".  Last time I was drunk downtown, I ate at American Coney instead of Lafayette without uttering a single complaint, I've earned a trip to a steakhouse chain, damnit! I'm totally fine with being snobby about the food in front of you at that exact moment. "This Big Mac is sloppy as fuck, I hate too much sauce, this sushi smells a little bit sour, please add even more chili to my coney, will you toast the top of my crème brulee juuuuust a bit more?" etc, but not being willing to even  try to slum just a little bit... I can not abide.

I'll fully enjoy every morsel of Guns & Butter, but you can then enjoy every inch of a Hot n Ready.

Anyway, the point of all of this is I want some fucking bread.  And not gluten fucking free bullshit, I want bread that may or may not contain yoga mat material. Right now, our work kitchen counter is backed full of hot dog buns and it's taking everything I have not to just go in there and eat every single one plain.

Bread!

We're Not Meant To Be Perfect, We're Meant To Be Whole (I Think This Is About Froyo....)

I'm not sure if it's just what the universe is putting in front of me, or it's getting older, or it's self-realization from out of thin air or what, but I see more and more and more how important it is to be your authentic self.

I thought about it just now as I was watching a segment from Oprah's Master Class. A bunch of people she deemed important were sharing what they know to be fundamentally true about life and being human and so much of what they said was about loving when you don't feel like it and being kind and being yourself, knowing what you really want and being able to speak up about it.

I can honestly say, the longer life goes on and I am truly myself and don't worry about what people think, the happier it makes me not only because it's a relief off of my shoulders to be natural, but it has just accidentally put some of the best, most interesting people and situations in my life.

There is no greater comfort and happiness than knowing you are free to be your completely authentic self and the people you love, in front of you, are absolutely ok with that. People who know your flaws and still stick around in your life to celebrate and champion what is good about you are incredible. And you, in turn, become a more forgiving and less judgmental person by allowing that process.

Life is a nice little journey, but I can't imagine the ways it would feel like a prison if I wasn't being myself all the time. Saying what I really feel, forgiving as much as I can, saying sorry as much as I can, loving as much as I can, just being honest.

I don't give a fuck if someone thinks I facebook too much, or don't act my age enough, Instagram froyo every other day, talk about the wrong things, wear heels when I should be in flats and flats when I should be in heels, those things just aren't my problem. Everyone has flaws, HUGE flaws, it doesn't mean they aren't worthy of love and light. One of my favorite things said in the segment was from Jane Fonda - “Many decades it took me to learn to not be afraid of saying how I feel, and to allow my vulnerabilities to show — we are not meant to be perfect, we’re meant to be whole.”

We are not meant to be perfect....we're meant to be whole.

What a sentence!  If you know what makes you whole and you have the courage to follow it and be authentic to it, you'll be happy. That's what I would say I know about being human. Because the easy path is nice, but I'm very, very happy I listened to Robert Frost's words pouring out of my teacher's mouth as she read me The Road Not Taken.

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

"Did You Win Your Match Today?" "....I Always Win."

I think it's lovely that such an accurate song, that always reminds me of us, that he enjoys, is also named after his favorite place in the world. Where he's always a champ.

Don't you think that it's boring how people talk
Making smart with their words again, well I'm bored
Because I'm doing this for the thrill of it, killin' it
Never not chasing a million things I want
And I am only as young as the minute is full of it
Getting pumped up on the little bright things I bought
But I know they'll never own me...

Baby, be the class clown
I'll be the beauty queen in tears
It's a new art form showing people how little we care
We're so happy, even when we're smilin' out of fear
Let's go down to the tennis court, and talk it up like yeah

Pretty soon I'll be getting on my first plane
I'll see the veins of my city like they do in space
But my head's filling up fast with the wicked games, up in flames
How can I fuck with the fun again, when I'm known
And my boys trip me up with their heads again, loving them
Everything's cool when we're all in line for the throne
But I know it's not forever

Baby be the class clown
I'll be the beauty queen in tears
It's a new art form showing people how little we care
We're so happy, even when we're smilin' out of fear
Let's go down to the tennis court, and talk it up like yeah

It looked alright in the pictures
Getting caught's half of the trip though, isn't it?
I fall apart with all my heart
And you could watch from your window
And you can watch from your window

Baby be the class clown
I'll be the beauty queen in tears
It's a new art form showing people how little we care
We're so happy, even when we're smilin' out of fear
Let's go down to the tennis court, and talk it up like yeah

And talk it up like yeah

 

How Many Times In A Day Is "Too Many" To Listen to George Michael??

Ok. Yes. FINALLY. Please play the following while reading: Freedom '90

90's fashion is coming back.

Not ALL 90's fashion, but some of the really good stuff. Let me explain my excitement.

1. Non-jeggings. I have come to deal with them, but anyone who knows me is aware that I fucking barely tolerate pants. Especially tight pants. If they're not 90% lycra, I'm really uncomfortable. I do it because it's flattering and in style. I can't WAIT until it's totally not. Gimme alllll the cute, ankle length billowy pants and borderline mom jeans. Yes. OR I'll stick with my usual ankle length slacks from Target that I'm obsessed with and have in every color because those look great with whatevs.

2. Moving on. Daisy/sunflower print. Yes. YES. I dug out my tiny black babydoll sunflower dress yesterday and hugged it to my chest. As far as I'm concerned, I'm never too old to wear it. Screw everyone and everyone who says I am. I don't work these legs to not show em.

3. Sling back pointy flats. Yep. Pointy shoes of any kind, really. Oh, and loafers. But not as if I ever gave those up.

4. Tiny floral print. Again, I didn't really give this up, but I'm glad it's back. Along with Hawaiian print. It's adorable when worn correctly. (see flowy kimono. I die)

5. French top bathing suits. Who decided that string bikinis were the thing forever and ever? Do you know how often I wear a halter top dress? Almost never. Yet I have to walk around all damn summer with halter tan lines? No thanks. Frenchies are back and I am grateful! (that's still a strong no on French cut bottoms though.)

6. Little fluffy angora sweaters with high-wasted jeans? Um, YEAH! Welcome back! I look adorable in fuzzy sweaters! Even though the hairs get in my eyes and I complain.

7. Overalls. I'm not even a little bit mad. Probably won't indulge, but I'm happy to have the option again.

8. The babydoll dress. Oh, how I loved you. And still do. Especially the long, cap-sleeved, floral version that makes one resemble a sweet mom. I'm in.

9. Fit and flare dresses. Or skirts. Anything high-wasted that shows how thin I still am at 37. I'm there. Add in a tie shoulder and I swoon. I like to look like a cross between Betty Draper and Laura Ingalls. I think I've said this before.

10. Flannel. So much flannel. Around my waste, over my shoulder. Wherever.

I mean, I'm thrilled. Give me some frosty make up and dark lips. I want to look like I just stepped out of an episode of Dawson's Creek and about to step into an episode of 90120 (pre Kelly and Dylan). I enjoy looking like a stepford wife during the day and a coked out 90's supermodel at night. Satin slip dresses that fit in only the right places? All night. And all motherfucking day, y'all.