Not Right in the Head

Sometimes my anthropological background rears its ugly, demented head.

It all started with a professor, Dr. Dettwyler. She was my fave prof in the department mostly because she had a nerdy sense of humor and because she didn’t give a rat’s….tail about the misogynists in the department. Back when I was majoring in Anthropology, we had a few of the “Old Guard” who still believed women shouldn’t be in the field. Not that we weren’t smart enough, but rather they felt that the Perils of Gwendolyn would play out at any moment.

And y’all thought Anthropology was boring.

Anyway, one thing that simply fascinated her were skulls, of the human variety. It is said that some people have the map of a country on their face because that area has specific genetic traits. One day we were watching Quest for Fire (while laughing out loud) and she remarked that the one actor who fit well in the role was Ron Perlman, his skull being so perfect. Perfect?? Yep, the cheekbones, the brow ridge, everything was just perfect and she would just love to own his skull for Science. This was her segue into that particular lesson. And I became rather obsessed with mapping skulls ever since.

Now, I tell you that story so I can better explain what transpired yesterday. I’m not much of a high-brow person, and tend to like irreverent comedy (Mel Brooks is KING!!). Last night I was watching Let’s Be Cops because I could, and I had an epiphany.

ZOMG!!! Look at that skull!! Just look at it!!! Isn’t it just perfect??? How did I miss Rob Riggle’s skull before???

Me: My GAWD his skull is awesome. Just like Ron Perlman’s!!

Hubby: People are going to be concerned about you wanting to collect heads.

Me: I don’t want to collect heads. I just want to own his skull. THERE’S A DIFFERENCE!!*

Obviously I don’t actually want to own anyone’s skull. But I do enjoy mapping them to this day. It’s fun trying to extrapolate where a person originated from. And let’s face it: he is rather easy on the eyes as well. And he is definitely not the only one, either. Guy Pearce and Olivia Wilde are two others whose skulls are fascinating to me. But as with all skulls, I only admire from afar.

Because this obsession would look ridiculous on a restraining order 😉

*In case it isn’t obvious, this post is done in humor and should be taken in the manner intended. Otherwise you are a poopy head.

Flowerdom

The main bath is being redone due to some water issues and a hankering for modern aesthetics. It won’t take long for the contractor to finish so there’s that. In the meantime, I have managed to get the new(ish) car registered and clean my bathroom, and to pass away the time since the noise level is rather high, I decided to make felt flowers, including cacti. Usually my thought process goes like this:

“Hm…. I think I will make some flowers.”

*cuts felt shapes, glues, makes flowers*

*looks at pile of flowers*

*wonders what to do with finished flowers*

*throws in basket*

*sighs*

Nothing is more calming than making sure you don’t pour hot glue on your fingers. So I have that going for me, which is nice 🙂

The Shift of a Compass

Let me preface this by saying I consider myself lucky to have friends. One can never have too many. Growing up they came and went out of my life with regularity, and some have passed on before their time. But I never regretted the time spent with any of them, whether in anger or laughter, in sadness and joy, in cacophony and silence. Every one was a blessing unto my life, even the ones who chose to leave.

Back in the days before social media, we were comfortable not knowing every particular tidbit from every particular friend. I had no ideas on their religious convictions (even when we attended the same church), their political leanings, their discriminatory views (and by this I mean likes and dislikes, not racial bigotry), and outside our high school football team, not even sport fandoms. Personally, I didn’t think it was any of my business, and if they liked the Dallas Cowboys, that was their cross to bear. But social media has made it easier to put one’s views out there. Sometimes that makes friends aware that they don’t have so many things in common with each other, and the dreaded happens.

In the interest of our friendship….

Those are chilling words to read on one’s media. At first it seems they are trying to cushion a coming blow, but that’s the masquerade. Those words come right before being told how “wrong” or how “bigoted” or how “evil” your statement is. It isn’t a way to soften the rebuttal but rather an implied threat. I don’t agree with you and our friendship will suffer for it. And I have to wonder why. Why would any friend consider a different opinion cause to sever all ties? I could understand if my opinion went against the law or broke social taboos but that wasn’t the case. It was a case of the mirror having two faces: two different ways of looking at one thing. Ignoring one face over the other simply because you don’t like it is a disservice to others and to oneself. Always remember: one must always play “devil’s advocate” and question everything; living in an echo chamber gets very old, very fast; and no one has a right to be offended. No friendship should ever be tested because of discourse. Differences of opinion are valuable, necessary, and natural. To think otherwise is to be myopic about the human condition.

And now that I have done my deep thoughts for today, it’s time for another cup of coffee 🙂

Sugar is the Best Hallucinogen

I love sugar. I really do. It’s not an argument about processed versus organic versus natural. I like sweet. Always have, and always will. And I especially enjoy it in chocolate or baked goods. And chocolatey baked goods. Ok, straight from the sugar bowl.

But there is now a Dark Side when it comes to ingesting the forbidden sweet late in the evening. I thought that when I ate cake while listening to Warren Zevon that it was a fluke. Seriously, who would ever dream of drinking at Trader Vic’s and annoying werewolves? Maybe some people, but not a whole lot. Late last night I had one Tim Tam™ cookie (biscuit, bickie, whatever they call it in Australia), and of course that set off probably my most ridiculous dream sequence ever, because it was about Johnny Manziel.

You see, Johnny needed an interior decorator, which I’m not. But his problem was that he wanted someone to decorate his room so that no one could disturb his pet monkey. And he hired me because I was the only Aggie with an Anthropology degree who could possibly understand life with a monkey. And I looked around, and between the large ping pong table and the poker table, there was a monkey sitting on a huge L-shaped couch, playing Super Mario Brothers on a Nintendo thing (I assume) while Johnny was explaining how he wants to give the monkey room, so while brandishing a hockey stick (I did say this makes no sense) he opens another door and shows me a huge ballroom area with tall windows and marble floors and I tell him it is best to keep the monkey in the smaller room and for Johnny to move his stuff in the ballroom, to which he replied, “That’s awesome!! When can you do it??” And I kept telling him he needed a wrangler not an interior decorator and he asked what was the difference and before I could charge him some obscene amount of money, I woke up.

Aside the obvious weirdness of the whole scenario, I’m not even sure why Johnny would make an appearance in my subconscious. I’m more of the Jason Isaacs/ Bruce Willis/ Sean Bean school of thought, really. A dream with any or all of them would have been awesome. Can you imagine???

Maybe a dram or two before bed, and I just might 😀

The Odd Collector

Some years ago, maybe 20 or so, I decided to collect lighthouses. But only Harbour Lights® lighthouses. I loved them. There is a certain lonesome romance about a lighthouse. The solitude associated with them is attractive. Anyway, I collected them until they went insane and made several different limited editions and decided that the name was more important than detail. Seriously, there is no way the Canaveral lighthouse is three times taller than the Space Shuttle.

There are some things I still collect. I have a fondness for geology and tend to be an amateur rockhound, so I have a nice collection of museum quality specimens. And of course, I collect Lolita™ glasses. Finally, a collection of useful things!! And they are like Pokemon™: gotta catch ’em all. According to Hubby, I am rising to that challenge.

Those are ordinary collections, though. But the thing is, I am an odd collector, too. I think of an odd collector as someone who only collects one of a certain thing, usually some item destined to be an heirloom or something that has some tie to a cultural reference. For example, while we were stationed in Hawaii, I fell in love with Koa wood. It is very rare and expensive, so there was no way I was going to own a dining table and chair made from it. But I managed to find a vanity hairbrush and comb set with a beautiful burl on the backs. One thing, see? I remember my grandmother had little glass figurine in its satin-covered box. We were never allowed to touch it, even breathe on it. It was Baccarat™. I don’t know what happened to it, but I do remember how the light refracted and made such beautiful rainbows when she showed it to me. A while back blogger friend Mitchell posted a gift for his mother, and years later I feel the need to have this one thing.

A bold, beautiful butterfly. I have a jones for cute insects. And Hubby never has any idea what to get me. He has decided the Lolita thing is off the table, since he has no idea what I own, so this would be a nice one thing to gift me. It may be too late for Christmas, but there is always Valentine’s Day, and I would much prefer this to flowers that die or candy that makes me fat.

So, do y’all have those “one things” too? Or am I an outlier? Again?? 😀

Nothing Screams “Halloween” Like Getting Ready for Christmas

I swore I would never become one of those people. You know who I’m talking about. The people who start their Christmas decor shopping before October arrives. I went to a home decor superstore to get some artificial flowers and was bombarded by a giant air-powered snowglobe designed for the front yard. This was the first week of October. I had to pass twelve aisles to get to the fall stuff.

Twelve out of twenty-four!!

Now, I don’t criticize anyone who starts their Christmas gift shopping early. My mom is usually two years ahead of schedule with it. I usually start around February for the coming Christmas. But I do wait to get any decor until after Thanksgiving. But y’all know me: once an idea gets under my skin, I have to do it. And this year I got the idea to make a winter wreath for my front door. I have already made the flowers to use on the wreath. I made them this week while also making Little One’s costume and mum. Once the hot glue gun is on, I keep going.

The yellow one is an outlier. I had extra felt and made it because I could. Now, some people don’t think that’s a big deal because I am making the wreath, but keep in mind I have yet to make a fall wreath.

Yes, I do feel some shame.

I do have my Halloween wreath, which has been out most of the month, so I have that going for me which is nice. But no fall wreath. So in my mind I have to rectify that by making the fall wreath before I do the winter one, right? Translation: making fall flowers and buying a wreath and more glue sticks and more felt. It’s a sacrifice I am more than willing to make. 😀

Picking Battles

I’m a wife and mother. Picking battles is something I do often. I have a 50% success rate, which is not bad considering.

You try dealing with a band director.

Anyway, I am slowly making some updates in the house. The floor was the latest. It was a five year wait, but completely worth it. Unfortunately, the contractor vetoed my plan to burn the Berber carpeting. He did let me stab it a few times, though. I thought he might think I was crazy but he told me his wife did the same thing. Yes, I am well aware that doesn’t rule out insanity. But it’s something. Anyway, one of the things I really, and I mean really want to do is the fireplace. It’s brick in a tan…beige…dun… blah color with blah mortar. I mean it’s there, but doesn’t stand out in any way. And that is supposed to be a feature in the living area. At first I wanted to take it all out, and replace it with slate, which is fantabulous. But the floors were paramount (not the movie company) and that was an expense we couldn’t afford. So then I decided why not paint it, right? And this is where Hubby just looked at me like I had grown another head and said I was nuts no, too much involved in doing it. So then I was casually asking my contractor how I could repaint or stain the brick on the fireplace, to which he replied that it wasn’t a great idea because of the time and amount of ventilation required.

Suffice it to say, everyone is against me.

It was grating on my nerves, dealing with the boring drabness of the fireplace. I watch Property Brothers on HGTV and see the Flynn Ryder twin repainting fireplaces all the time!! But I was vetoed. GAH!!! As I sat there, wondering which house some Canadian couple was going to buy from the dapper twin, I saw it: a bold, beautiful BIG glob of glass sitting on a shelving unit in the background. And as I looked at my fireplace, I noticed something: everything, and I mean everything I had decorating it was in the same color range as the damn brick. Browns, beiges, tans, ambers…. no wonder that fireplace was so awful. That glob of glass stood out like a gorgeous preening peacock screeching LOOK AT MOI!!! And I knew, sure as the sun will rise, that I had seen it somewhere before.

Behold Ikea’s Stockholm vase. Actually, it is one of three Stockholm vases they carry in different styles and colors. Which begs the question: why call it the same name when they are different? Well, it’s Ikea. That’s what they do to mess with the customer. I recalled seeing the vase back on Mother’s Day when I last went to Swedesville. I liked them but had no idea where I would place them in the house. So I passed on them. Fast forward a few months and I am upstate for my nephew’s wedding, and my brother’s lovely girlfriend offers to entertain me by obliging my jones and taking me to Ikea, which is only 20 minutes from her home, unlike mine which is about 2 ½ hours if I’m lucky. So now Phase One of Fireplace Redo is complete, because I bought its taller, greener brother as well. Hey, one for either side of the fireplace, ok? I know it’s female logic, but it works. Trust me 😀

In Defense of the Ice Bucket

A new fad for charity has gone viral in social media. The Ice Bucket Challenge has been going on for about two months, but it has just been in the past two weeks or so that the challenge has skyrocketed. It has helped to raise money and more importantly, awareness of Lou Gehrig’s Disease, also known as ALS. Between July 31 and August 18 of 2013, the charity had raised $1.8 million dollars. In the same time period of 2014, they have raised over $42 million. The rules are simple: first, accept the challenge, and pour ice into a bucket of water; second, you pour the bucket over your head; third, you challenge others by name to do the same. You donate a certain amount if you do the challenge, but if you choose to pass on the challenge (as some have done), you must donate a larger amount. The point of this challenge is obviously to raise money for research, so both challenger and the challenged should donate. That’s the bare bones of the whole thing.

Now to my rant.

I have been following along on social media a certain trend, if you will. Some people deride the challenge as being a “waste of water”, and a “chance at 15 minutes of fame”, and even “selfie grandstanding”. Others think the challenge is stupid because it’s not “jackass” daredevil enough. I have seen friends of friends say that it is better to send bottled water to Africa than to do this challenge. I have seen friends complain about it filling their media feed. Well, my turn to say something.

WHAT THE HELL, PEOPLE??

October is Breast Cancer Awareness month. Every day for a month we are inundated in pink. PINK!! And I don’t mean her music, either. Every organization, from the NFL to Hollywood to airlines to grocery stores to every single thing wears or decorates in pink to “bring awareness” of cancer. Hell, you can get a Kitchen Aid® mixer in a special shade of pink just for that campaign. They wear pink to “support awareness”. What the hell does that do? Who DOESN’T support awareness?? Putting a pink ribbon on everything doesn’t mean a thing. Most people are not aware that when they buy a pink ribbon pencil or a pink ribbon apron that the money is not necessarily earmarked for a breast cancer research foundation like the Susan G. Komen Foundation™. In fact, most of it isn’t. Only certain things specifically endorsed as having its proceeds go to a foundation are earmarked. But people still do it, and charities (plural) raise MILLIONS towards research. And yet some of the same people who complain about the Ice Bucket Challenge have no problem with Pink October. Seems a bit hypocritical to me.

Look, I’m not saying you have to do the challenge. I’m not saying don’t send water to Africa. And I’m certainly not saying you shouldn’t donate to breast cancer research. What I am saying is, no harm, no foul. You don’t like it on your feed, adjust your damn settings and quit complaining. Social media doesn’t belong to you. This has done more to increase donations to a worthy cause than anything I can recall. I do think that whole “it wastes water” is a bunch of hooey, seeing as most of the water ends up on a lawn in most videos. But it makes you seem rather small when you complain about a challenge that is harmless to you and to the participant. My grandmother-in-law passed away from ALS, and a very good friend of mine has lost family members to it, and now her mother has it. Unlike breast cancer, ALS cannot be treated so research is vital. Taking the challenge is a way to show others that you aren’t afraid. If you would rather donate directly, as we do every year, go to the ALS Association website.

And enjoy the fact that you can help, and cool off at the same time 🙂

The Art of the Insult

Before I begin, I wish to stress that this is a PG blog, and I do tend to monitor-slash-censor for the sake of my kids who do happen to read my blog. No I don’t force them to do so. Nor do I bribe them. I simply let curiosity get the best of them. I’m sneaky like that.

Anyway, I was watching TV last night, and heard a common and rather trendy insult being bandied about: douche bag. Now, being a gal, I am well aware of what an actual douche bag is. But I fail to see why it is considered an insult. A douche is designed as a cleansing agent, the bag HOLDS said cleansing agent. It is sterile and clean. The bag itself never becomes contaminated. It is an object that helps to aid in cleansing, people. How is THAT a bad thing? I think we are losing the art of the insult when we adopt terms from people who do not understand the true meaning of it. That’s just lazy. And we can and have done better than that. Shakespeare created hundreds of new words in his works, and we are letting them go to waste.

My blogger friend Nicki is a master of the insult. This blog post gives you an example of her linguistic prowess (warning: salty language). Just today she introduced me to another one at the social-site-with-faces. One I can’t repeat here, unfortunately. And let’s not forget our friend BC over at The Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler!! As scathing as cursing can be, one doesn’t have to rely on cussing to get a good insult across. The classic “bless your heart” goes a long way towards insulting someone, but it’s rather colloquial. I used it on a friend from Philly and he thanked me for my kindness. Sigh….. My son once told a bully that he “had the vocabulary of a head of cabbage.” Before the bully could digest that, Son simply walked away and was never bothered again. Language can be like a scythe when used effectively.

So put some effort into using the vastness of the English language. Heck, just a little effort is all you need. Instead of calling someone a douche bag, call them a colostomy bag. Think about THAT for a moment, and appreciate the beauty of how devastating an insult that is 😉

Women, Handbags, and Shoes

I took Little One shopping for clothes this past weekend. Seems she is growing and I can no longer ignore the fact that she is not a little girl. That meant taking her shopping to places were I like to shop.

For myself.

Don’t freak out. I restrained myself. I didn’t get anything.

Ok, I got ONE shirt.

And PJs. Stop judging me!!

Moving on, she got quite the haul: jeans, shirts, sweaters, camis, and PJs (she’s my mini-me, after all). She was very amiable to my advice for once, until it came to getting accessories of any kind. It was like she became a burro. Seriously, THAT stubborn.

Me: You should get a nice purse to use in high school, honey.

Mini-Me: Why? I don’t like them. Besides, I think policy is changing to all-clear bags.

Me: What did you say??

Mini-Me: All-clear ba–

Me: No, before that!!

Mini-Me: I don’t like purses.

Me: WHERE DID I GO WRONG???

She just rolled her eyes and laughed at me. But that got me to thinking (I do that on occasion, you know). Why are most women so hung up on purses, and shoes as well? Think about it: they are utilitarian items that we take to fashion extremes. Shoes are mainly used to protect our feet, and purses are used to carry stuff we need that we can’t fit in pockets easily. That’s it. Most men have under four pairs of shoes. But not most women. It’s like a drug. You get one pretty pair, and you just HAVE to get another, and another, and another until your closet looks like Payless™ puked. And the same for handbags! Witness what happened to me, remember? It’s like a moral imperative. And as I thought for the reason as to why we are so enamored of such accessories, I finally came to a not-very-flattering conclusion:

We buy the purses and the shoes in order to justify purchasing the outfit.

Tell me I’m wrong. Someone, PLEASE tell me I’m wrong!!

Because the shirt I bought this weekend really goes well with my new sandals, and I’m hoping I’m not that shallow 😀