Month: December 2012

Blogging With A Scarlet B

Fallen Woman (Photo credit: Mr Jaded)

Why am I blogging? I’ve talked about this before, some here, and some in comments on other people’s blogs, but I want to explore this again. I am not a writer, a blogger, a mom, a special needs mom, a wife, a friend, a reefer, a dog walker, a poop inspector, a New Yorker, a vegetarian. I am all that–and a bag of salt and vinegar chips on the side.

Broken doll (Photo credit: noii’s)

Any parent or teacher is familiar with how a young child’s world is rocked if they run into their preschool teacher outside of the classroom or school. Developmentally, it’s appropriate. “Mrs K outside of her role in my life?” Shock, maybe even outrage. But how much do we really outgrow that stage? Different in a small town, maybe, where people often play dual, triple, or quadruple roles in someone’s life. In a city, it’s common enough to not be able to place, or maybe even not notice, the cashier you smile at every day in the supermarket if you run into them on the street.

I’m not sure I’d call myself whole, but all my parts are here. I’m not striving for sainthood. Do I try to be a decent person? Sure. Do I care about others? Absolutely. Do I want to eliminate my own needs, desires, and emotions in order to serve others? No. Do I wish I could be 100% positive 100% of the time? No. I want to be me, and hopefully reach others, by being me. Writing, whether it’s fiction or non, poetry or prose, is about making people think and feel, reaching in and reaching out. Not whether or not it makes the reader feel “good.”

Human beings are complex creatures. We’re complex even in ways that are different from one another. In my mind, that’s a positive. I appreciate people who have a similar viewpoint to mine, but I also appreciate those with a different viewpoint. Take a look at my blog <<<<< roll on the left. I enjoy and read all of them. Some are informative, some are funny, some snarky, some sad, some are about embracing grace and joy; many are deep and meaningful emotional journeys, regardless of the style in which they’re written.

The person I know who I would consider closest to a candidate for sainthood happens to be a priest. I would give or do anything he asked, because he is that inspirational. When did I first become such a devotee? When I heard the word “fag” come out of his mouth. Not used as a weapon, slur or condemnation, but in acknowledgement of the raw pain and frank toughness of the lives of so many of the young people he helps. A word many of them have been beaten with in an attempt to negate their desire for more, for lives that could hold different possibilities. I don’t hold him in such regard because he is “divine,” but rather, because of his humanity.

For all the carrying on about thinking outside of the box, I see a whole lot of people resent when they see someone step outside of the box they’ve placed them in, and proceed to work at chastising them back into submission.

If you’re reading this, or anything else of mine, and disagree because you’re striving for perfection, God bless. I’m trying for human.

Paris 2e “manequins” to be dressed – 2007 (Photo credit: Julie70)

Miscellaneous Photo Post

Conehead and pest

Back of the Museum of Natural History

always something…

During the holiday season these guys move over to make room

for these guys

Gas line being replaced

Pipes are laid pretty far below the surface, I think this guy is standing on one

An unbelievable amount of time and work to lay one stretch of pipe. Gas lines, people–NO, they can’t work any faster.

Ok, I’m weird, but all of this–the fruit stands, Christmas tree stands, the literal underground workings of the city, are as much what makes New York as the museums and theaters.

Move Over on that Cross, Will ya?

Painting image of Joan of Arc (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Checking my email this morning, I saw one of my favorite discount stores is having a sale. Today. One day only.

I needed gloves. It’s freezing out. I bought a pair last month, and they look fun in an ugly kind of way, but they’re a loose knit, no fingers, not even a thumb. Why did I buy them? They were $6! Sure I saw practical, warm, pretty gloves too, but those were $50. 6 vs 50, on a day when it wasn’t too cold yet, no contest. Sure I’m a lifelong New Yorker, and understood it wasn’t going to stay 50* outside, but 6 dollars!

Once I dropped Flower Child off at school, I walked to the store. This left me standing in the cold for half an hour before they opened. OK it was 25 minutes, I guess the manager felt sorry for me and the other fools waiting for them to unlock the doors. The selection was pitiful, but I was determined to take advantage of the 25% off coupon slipping through my icicle fingers. Found a pair. Not what I really wanted. I was imagining something elegant or funky, interesting color, super warm pair with a touch screen fingertip. I found warmer than what I’ve got, no touch screen fingertip, and I’m not really sure if they’re navy or black.

I’m in the store where it’s warm, not overly crowded, and agonizing over whether I should buy this pair of gloves, or wait and keep looking until I find the perfect pair at the perfect price on a day when I’ve got money in my pocket. I’m sure you can all now understand why I own a very limited wardrobe. I decide to look around the store. It really is a very good sale, and there are several things I could use. I look at dresses. I found this super cute wine colored knit–with sleeves! (why do they sell sleeveless winter dresses in the Northeast?)–my size, no obvious rule it out defects, for a very reasonable $50. It’s just my kind of dress (though not a color I usually like), nice, practical, fine for a regular day but if I had an appointment for tea with the Queen I could put some beads around my neck with a nicer pair of shoes and look fine.

Portrait of a group of ladies at a tea party, Charters Towers (Photo credit: State Library of Queensland, Australia)

Don’t forget the 25% off coupon! I picked up the dress and carried it all over the store, inspecting everything else I wasn’t going to buy. I looked at coats. I would love to have a warm down coat for everyday use. I spend a lot of time outside walking, and do not enjoy cold weather. At. All.

I have a coat I bought several years ago at another discount store. I hadn’t been coat shopping in a long time prior, and was shocked by the prices. So shocked, I called my mother to rant. She laughed at me, and I bought the cheapest one I could find. Sure it’s down, but apparently it’s only got 3 feathers, because I’m shivering in it the second the temperature drops below 45*. I’ve got a fabulous and fabulously warm shearling I got when my Grandmother died, but I don’t like to wear it. It’s the only really nice coat I’m ever likely to own, and I feel kind of silly when I wear it. Here I’m living this crazy broke-ass life; picking up dog poop in a shearling? I’m like a character from a Depression era movie, “Well, de-ah, I’ve fallen on haahrd times.”

I put the dress back. Bought the boring but reasonably priced and warmer than what I’ve got gloves, and punished myself by walking home, instead of taking the train. Why? I dunno, it’s the martyr instinct. I’ve got it, and so do many of the women I know who aren’t shopaholics. It was perfectly reasonable to put the dress back. I’ve got to buy Christmas gifts for the kiddos, and there isn’t any wiggle room in the budget. I could use a new coat, but I won’t freeze without one, I’m absolutely fine wearing layers. I like my layers. I like the look, and they make me feel shabby chic instead of shabby. I did need a pair of gloves.

So why do I feel guilty for having bought them? Besides the obvious answer that I’m a lunatic. What kind of shopper are you?

Walked past my new favorite lady in the city.

And some perfectly elegant holiday displays.

Tis the Season

I think she’s pretty, am I done now?

And, as usual, I’m unprepared. Can’t say as always, because some years I’ve been relatively on top of things, but not usually.

I haven’t prepped a thing, haven’t so much as taken the Christmas boxes down from the closet, no clue what any of my kids would like, haven’t even purchased a box of candy canes–which I usually do right after Thanksgiving. I know, if Nerd Child reads this, he will think, “I told you I wanted ____.” I know he did tell me something, but my brain is like a sieve these days (heh, who am I kidding? has been for years), if it isn’t written down any thought drains away.

I did buy one new snow globe yesterday, see above.

Husband has a cousin whose home is always perfectly, tastefully decorated for the holidays. The woman could have been a window dresser for Saks, her eye is flawless. It’s the type of talent you either have or you don’t. I don’t, but I love to admire the efforts of those who do.

I like to know what the kiddos and Husband want for Christmas, not just taking a stab in the dark. A lot of that is due to the budget, if we don’t buy them the item they reeeeally needed/wanted, that’s it for quite a while. I am not hitting the after Christmas sales on December 26th. Husband is easy, he always wants clothes. Well, easy except for that whole pilgrimage to 34th St in the holiday season, but I’ll save that for another post. A couple of times over the years I saved and splurged and bought him toys instead of clothes (an iPod, a GPS), and my sense was that he still would have preferred to see those red boxes from Macy’s.

Tiffany’s (Photo credit: peterjr1961)

For several years, Husband and I admonished each other not to buy each other anything. I’m not going to say that anymore. He knows I’m going to buy him something, I know he’s going to buy me something. Do I have a wish list? No. Things go in and out of my head all year long, but when it comes time to Husband asking me what I would like (usually around 11PM on the 23rd, sometimes 2PM on the 24th), my mind goes blank.

If I really push myself, I turn into Marilyn Monroe singing “Santa Baby,” picturing jewels and deeds. Or Elmer J Fudd, with a mansion and a yacht. Around 6AM Christmas Day I remember that I’m wearing the same pjs that I’ve been wearing in the photos for the past 7 years, could have asked for those, 10AM I look at the wreckage of wrapping paper and boxes from the kids’ gifts and sigh over my imaginary iPad, around 3PM, I remember the paring knife I could have used.

Do you have a wish list?

Elmer Fudd (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Picture Day

vintage class photo, 1957 (Photo credit: deflam)

Yesterday, detangling Flower Child’s hair.

Mrs Fringe, “Tomorrow is picture day, so let’s make a little extra effort, and you have to pick an outfit that you want to take a picture in.”

Flower Child, “No it isn’t. It’s De-cem-BER. Picture day is October 30th.”

Mrs F, “It was supposed to be October 30th, but there was no school that day because of the hurricane. So picture day was rescheduled for tomorrow, December 3rd.”

FC, “The paper said October 30th. I read it.” *preens*

Mrs F, “October 30th has passed. It was the day before Halloween. We’ve been through all of November, and now it’s December. Picture day is tomorrow. Do you want to wear the dress you wore for Thanksgiving?”

FC, clearly not believing me, “OK.”

This morning, getting ready.

Mrs Fringe, “Remember, it’s picture day. I’m filling out the paper for school, please give the envelope to the teacher.”

FC, “Umm, ohhhh,” rubs her stomach.

Mrs F, “Are you sick?”

FC, “No. Maybe. I don’t think so. It’s October 30th?”

Mrs F, “No, it’s picture day.”

We keep getting ready, Flower Child alternating between fighting nervous smiles, tearing up, and ummming. I sit down on the couch with her, finally figuring out she doesn’t want to wear the dress she’s already wearing.

I’ve already filled out the form and sealed the envelope. She picks a different outfit. Polka dot little too short skirt. Striped too big shirt. Sparkly tights. Mismatched socks. Early bag lady, but she’s smiling. I like to think she’ll smile when they take the picture, but if I was laying money down, I’d have to bet she’ll be giving her very best “smeyes,” a la Tyra Banks. Going to look fab against the fake flowering tree background.