Rapier's Wit

Actually, this photo was taken the night of my class reunion. To celebrate our youth and lack of responsibility to drink whilst underage, the food table adorned with none other than three bottles of Boone's Farm Wine: Kool-aid with a slight buzz attached. Naturally, your's truly had to pose with a bottle. The Strawberry Hill flavor had mysteriously vanished. So, here I am with watermelon flavor. I think it's somewhat fitting considering the model.

This is not a regular feature on my blog, but this called for alliteration. Maybe I'll carry it over into future weeks using random shots. This photo was taken at my class reunion this past weekend. I will be writing about that in greater detail later this week. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is tell me what YOU think is going on at the time the picture was snapped.

I'm a realist. I've said it before. I'll say it again. I'm a realist. I know a red flag when I see it. I recognize the sting as it bitch slaps me across the face. The laundromance hit a spin cycle that can only get out of control. For the sake of protecting myself I will not go into details. However, I know when I'm not compatible with a person. I'll cite lifestyle as the cause for hanging this romance out to dry. I am not an authority on relationships. Nor do I fully understand the proper protocol for dating. Perhaps there isn't a rule book. I have never been inclined to play by anyone's rules. I make them up as I go. However, I do have a stern set of expectations. I know what I need. And what I don't need is for someone create drama for me. What I don't need is to get lectured on maturity. What I don't need is for someone to change their demeanor on a dime. That all being said, you can all return to your regularly scheduled programming. T...

Shhh, no. No. Don't say a word. Just sit back. Enjoy. Yeah, eye candy for all. sigh contentment.

With great tenacity and perseverance I do my utmost to be a fantastic parent. Being the only adult in a household containing a teen-ager doesn't sound like it is difficult. And, it's not. Not thus far. Man-cub is just 2 weeks shy of being 14. He's a good kid whom I can trust implicitly. His only shortcoming in life is not performing the same three chores assigned daily: Put away the dishes; take out the trash; scoop the cat litter. If I leave him a gentle reminder, such as a list, he'll typically execute the tasks immediately after receiving my call warning him that I'm coming home. I don't question whether or not he's accomplished the daily three when I speak with him. My hope is that he'll do it without prodding. I have lofty dreams. On Thursday evening I arrived home some time after 9:00 p.m. Upon my departure earlier in the day I hadn't made a list, but I did give him a verbal reminder of what needed to be done. When I came through the door, I fo...

This weekend is the 25th Reunion of the Eastridge High School Class of '83. I can't believe so many years have passed; yet, I look so young! I don't feel a day over 29. Well, on most days I consider myself youthful. Those assembling for the celebration will be a small number. I blame the rough economy for the low attendance. I wasn't able to attend the 20th year reunion, but it was a bigger shin-dig. I'm certain there will be faces I will be happy to see again. I was a brunette back then. I wonder if they'll recognize me? My days in high school were spent singing and dancing in our show choir and performing in musicals. Those friends I acquired then are still my friends today. I'm looking forward to reminiscing, singing, dancing, drinking (a little) and spending much needed adult time with familiar personalities. Today, the video posted reminded of the joy and carefree nature I felt back then. In spite of the turmoil my family life endured, my friends, musi...

Normally I do not work on Sunday. This is not one of those Sundays where I'm able to lounge about, read on the deck or do whatever strikes my fancy. Today I have to shower, dress and go to work. Bummer. I made coffee and I sit here sipping from one of those cups that are ridiculously big, but I like it. By the time I reach the bottom of the cup it's room temperature and barely drinkable. I do it anyway. There's no reasoning. Today's creamer of choice is hazelnut. Yesterday I simply went with plain ol' half & half. I'm a maniac. Unpredictable. You never know which way I'm going to go. I live my life in a serpentine pattern, baby. [image borrowed from jgcf on flickr]

This little gem was posed by Jane on her blog, Confessions of a Middle-aged Suburban Diva : "Describe something seemingly unimportant or ridiculous that makes you happy." Hmm, where do I begin? It seems there are daily occurrences of such things. I'll give it a go! I'm tickled pink over the way our kitty, Silver, flops on the floor, rolls and pops back up as if it was a choreographed gymnastics routine. On the same course, our more mature cat, Mo-mo, thinks it's her duty to act like a paper weight by sitting on the letters, cards and loose papers that reside on my desk. One never knows when a strong wind will carry them off. She's at the ready to protect my mail. Or, the manner in which she squeezes herself into small boxes and containers. Contentment never looked so unbearably uncomfortable. As crazy as it sounds, I am amused and chuckle when my neighbor brings a pillow into the middle of the yard and takes a nap. There's no hammock or blanket. She just c...

This is Royal Street in the Rain. Location: New Orleans. It's raining in Kankakee, Illinois. For some reason I am not upset by the lack of sunshine. I suppose it could be due to having to work. Rain drives the customers to the mall; customers who are willing to extend their financial limits in order to find refuge from rainy weather's blues. Upon viewing this photo I don't feel the blues. Even though the photographer probably heard such music being played somewhere on this narrow street. The bikes parked along the sidewalk reminds me of the numerous times my friends and I found ourselves caught in the rain. As kids, we'd stop, drop the two wheelers and seek shelter on someone's porch. It didn't seem to matter if we knew the residents or not. We'd wait for a break in the weather and commence to our childhood lallygagging ... finding the biggest puddle to ferociously peddle through. Nope. Summertime rain isn't pestering me today. I wish I had my blue and w...

Yeah, baby! Relax. Chill. Don't sue me if you have a seizure. Oh, and PUNCH BUGGY!!

"You deserve to be happy." Those are the words my 13, soon to be 14 year old son said to me last night. We'd taken a walk to the post office and, like usual, I took that quiet setting as a time to discuss important matters with Man-cub. We'd been strolling along and I asked him how this new man entering my life made him feel. I stress that it's important for us to be open and that I will not dismiss his concerns. It's been many years since I've dated or met someone whom I felt strongly about. Moreso, worthy of being in the presence of my child. The conversation went something like this: Me: "So, I spoke with Running Man today. He asked how we were enjoying my day off." MC: "You talk to him a lot. I think you really like him. He seems like a nice guy." Me: "Do you feel OK about that? I know it's out of the blue for you. We did, after all, just meet. So, we're getting to know each other. " MC: "Yeah. I...

I snagged this from Miss Attitude's blog. I have ideas of what to write about swirling in my brain, but I'm an impulse writer. I do it on the fly while my heart is on my sleeve ... closest to my hands & fingers. Ideal for typing. You get the idea, right? 1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE? It's a derivative of "Mary" which was my mom's name. The five girls in my family all have names that are versions of Mary. I think it's a wished virginal thing. Who knows. 2. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED? You mean cry-cry? About 3 weeks ago. 3. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING? It changes with my mood or speed in which I have to write. But, no, I am not especially fond of my handwriting despite the number of hours practicing in grade school. 4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT? Honey Ham 5. DO YOU HAVE KIDS? One fantastically awesome 13 year old (soon to be 14) 6. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU? Hell yeah. I have my issues, but my heart is gold...

"Re-entry into earth's atmosphere is complete ... welcome back to reality" In case you're wondering, that's what the voices in my head told me this morning. I'm back from outer space. My head has become one with my body and is no longer out in the stratosphere of googily eyes and puppy dog's wagging tail. Regardless of all the flattery and warm fuzzy feelings meeting Running Man brought me, I know that I can't stay in that 'head in the clouds' mental state. I am a realist. I can't let myself get too wrapped up in the romance of being wooed. It sucks to be me, but that's how I roll. We had a lot of walking and talking at our disposal over the past weekend. It was fantastic. I felt a protection and comfort that is strange to me. And because that overwhelming feeling of just letting go came over me, I needed a serious sit-down-firm-get-a-grip talk with myself. As I lie in my bed awake last night these words flew from my mouth: SNAP OUT OF ...

*thud* Yeah. I fell on the floor. Good golly! He's delicious. Excuse me while I wipe the drool from my chin. Gracious! Someone get me a towel.

Onomatopoeia. What makes it so striking is that, by definition, it means: the naming of a thing or action by a vocal imitation of the sound associated with it (as buzz, hiss ) . For such a lengthy and difficult word to spell, onomatopoeia is one of my favorite words. I subscribe to Grammar Girl's Quick and Dirty Tips for Better Writing . You probably can't tell by my writing that I am an avid reader and loyal note taker of Grammar Girl Mignon Fogarty's website. However, I do. I am. I try. Each week I receive an email focusing on one grammar do or don't. Sometimes these pointers are rather mundane, but helpful (oft times, the most boring details deliver the greatest punch). This week's spotlight item really caught my eye. It's so fantabulous that I had to share it with my utterly groovilicious blogging pals. Web-logging and learning all in one hit. Would that be blearning? Portmanteau Words "Last week the Make-It-Green Girl did a show about smog, which made ...

Today's forecast: Brilliant. Extremely perfect. Nary a cloud in the blue sky. The temperature; ideal. Breezy, but far from windy. I couldn't have selected better weather that exemplifies my mental state. Yesterday evening, Running Man and I managed to get together for a couple of hours. It wasn't formal or pretentious. We met at a local park that is situated along the Kankakee River. It's the place where I spent many days as a child. Numerous things have changed since I took to the swings like soaring bird, but one thing has remained: Sunsets are glorious along the river. All the homes with their unique architecture are new to Running Man. He's fascinated with the very things I saw as a little girl. I shared stories about walking to the park and finding new friends and being occupied with the limitless activities offered to kids on summer break. That was then. Now, the homes are hit or miss with care. Yet, with new eyes he manages to see what's beneath the peeli...

This is a new spot on the 'Net where you can get a fix. What makes it so incredibly unique is that it's all in the family. My family, to be more precise. I'm one of 10 children. Our father enjoyed writing and did so with great verve. He had many opinions and had no issue with putting pen to paper and sharing them. My sister Mary felt we all have a bit of that writing bug (who would have guessed?) So, she took it upon herself to bring us all together under one roof. My particular specialty on the menu is called, " Marissa's Tantalizing Tray of Tarts " -- quite fitting, no? There, I'll share many of the views and insights you see here including pop culture ala mode! -- Retro Refreshments , if you will. Our family diner is new and we're getting our feel for the surroundings. Like any new establishment, it relies on the input of its patrons. Like what you see? Make sure you come back again and bring plenty of friends. Think something is missing...

People tell me to enjoy the ride while it lasts. I get a little agitated because who says the ride is going to end? I prefer to be less of a pessimist. I want to be optimistic and live for the day. I can do that. It's my heart. If you tell me to save up my pennies for a rainy day, then I need to think to the future. I know most people are well intentioned, but I just met Running Man and already I'm getting opposition. I've not requested a transcript of his entire past; nor, insisted on viewing his financial records. I pray he never ask for mine. It's a mess. What I do know is that we've spent over 10 cumulative hours talking. Talking about life, hopes and dreams. I am unsure of his favorite musician, movie or book. He doesn't know my favorite color or shoe size. I do know that he's a God fearing man. He knows that my son's well being is of utmost importance and will never take a back seat to my own pursuits. Man-cub will always ride shot-gun with me. Run...

Today, July 10, is the anniversary of the birth of Steve Spears . He's the creator of the fantastic podcast Stuck in the 80s . Not only is he the Lord-God-King-Guru of the podcast, but he has a phenomenal award winning blog. Hell to the yeah! Happy, happy birthday! Like Cameron Frye in Ferris Bueller's Day off -- He didn't think he saw anything good that day -- Steve Spears doesn't think his birthday is noteworthy. He's just treating it as any other day. I'm sure his mother wouldn't see it that way. In fact, I hope she sends him a case of beets instead of a home baked cake for such goofy thinking. Something that brings Steve great joy is seeing his blog counter shoot through the roof! Help set his blog on fire by visiting and commenting. While you're there, tell him Marissa sent you and wish him a Samantha Baker style birthday. Steve Spears, you've given me a joy greater than Duran Duran, The Breakfast Club and Rick Springfield ever could. OK, maybe ...

This is the continuation of the blog down yonder. Just scroll a little. If you've not read about my laundromat liaison, you must read the previous post before going further with this one. If you have read Tales From the Spin Cycle, then you're fully aware that I met a guy at the laundorama. You'll also be privy to the fact that his blog moniker is Running Man. In addition, you're in the know that I possess his phone number. Being completely void of calling protocol when given a number aka digits aka the proverbial ball, I had to consult the great and mighty pals at plurk.com. Their advice was unanimous: Call! Now! Don't wait! No games! So, you're saying I should wait a couple days? I'm thick as a brick. (Jethro Tull, thank you very much) I didn't call him Sunday. I was struck with panic: What if it's a fake number? What's the chance he won't remember me? What if, if, if!? Monday at work I asked one solitary male co-worker how long a woman o...

Sunday is typically my day to do laundry. I get up pretty early, make coffee, check emails, visit a couple favorite blogs. Then, I load up the car and head out to the laundromat with hopes of getting there before anyone else does. I like the solitude of me and nothing but the the hum of the washers and dryers. My only companion is my trusty iPod Nano. Once in awhile the owner or his in-laws will be there to clean up the joint, collect money from the machines, etc... I've explained in a previous post that I rent a house that isn't equipped with a washer and dryer. I could buy a used set, but the water pressure here is so pathetic that it's a challenge to rinse shampoo and conditioner from my hair daily. Don't leave me yet. I promise this will get better. The good stuff is coming. Just be patient and let me set the scene. It's crucial! Sunday, July 6, 2008 my routine went askew. I woke up later than usual: 7:00 a.m. Instead of making coffee and bothering with my compu...

I have a ton of things to write about, but little time or motivation ... for now. I'm certain I'll get my blogging mojo back. I want to tell you about the boy I met at the laundro-mat. This sort of thing happens to other chicks. Not Me! And he isn't ugly or old or lacking in verbal skills. My friend Lydia posted random photos on her blog and one in particular inspired me. I proclaimed that I could write an entire short story on that one image. She has challenged me to do so and post it right here. Who doesn't love a challenge. Especially one that gets the creative juices flowing. I need to put a toothbrush over my teeth, a comb through my hair and anti-perspirant under my pits. So, I leave you with this song that is my theme song. In fact, I insist it's played at my funeral (when that day arrives).

It shouldn't surprise anyone reading this (who knows me) that I am not a hoity toity, high falutin' lady. I'm a kooky chick who prefers to put away all the pretense and let it all hang out. I keep Thelma and Louise tightly nestled, mind you. It's not that sort of hanging out I'm discussing here. If something of high grade quality is offered to me, I'll take it (if I desire the item), but otherwise, I am pretty easy to please. Yesterday was the Fourth of July. To anyone not living in the United States that's just the day situated between July 3rd and 5th. For Americans it's license to get loose, wild and free ... and potentially lose phalanges, an eye, ability to drive, etc... It seems that for every holiday in this beloved country of mine we are revelers who need to eat, drink and be merry ... and blow shit up and react with oohs and ahs. It's the American way! And I'm no different. I had to work on Independence Day which kind of chapped my hide...

A parent's greatest; yet bittersweet, moment is seeing their child make firsts: His first bath First full night's sleep First Tooth First word First step First boo-boo First birthday First day of school First Funyun screeeeeeeeeeech His first what?! You read it correctly. The inaugural taste of Funyuns took place today. The Man-cub became one with the beloved snack of my favorite music critic and Stuck in the 80s podcast co-host SEAN DALY . Sean warns listeners and fans to beware of the Salvador Dali-nightmare inspiring effects the Funyun can have when consumed along with a large glass of water too close to bedtime. All more reason to keep the Funyuns. Who doesn't like a trippy-trip from time to time? There is currently a radical movement to oust the Funyun as the official Stuck in the 80s snack to bring in Munchos or Bugles. BAH! I say. It wasn't long ago that I won the coveted signed bag of Funyuns for getting the mystery 80's tune correct. I admitted that I sor...