Hot, Hot Sex

Dark green, smooth leaves with light green veins against dark red leaves with pale green centers.  Lacey frisee interspersed with shredded carrots and dotted with sweet red grape tomatoes.  Sprinkle some adzuki sprouts and feta cheese.  Drizzle with Lemon Goddess Dressing.  It's a beautiful, sexy sight.  It got me thinking about sexy food versus non-sexy food.  And that's the way my brain works.

Not-so-sexy foods:  Corn dogs, pudding in a cup, pork skins, peanut brittle, rice crispy treats, yogurt, felafel, bbq pork sandwich, sweet and sour anything, fried chicken (anything chicken and anything fried), cole slaw, cornbread, black-eyed peas, pimento cheese, cheese whiz (is it food?),  fried pies, twinkies, moon pies, Chef Boyardee anything, country-fried steak, turnip greens, cream of wheat, grits, oatmeal, chicken livers, calamari, meatloaf, stew, biscuits, pickles, fig newtons, bean dip, fruit roll ups, beef jerky, vienna sausage, baked beans, pickled eggs (just eww)

Sexy foods:  cupcakes ;P, olives, almonds, anything tapas, fondue, brick oven or grilled pizza, caramel drizzle, oysters, lobster, clams, mussels, snow crab, sushi, sashimi, shrimp cocktail,  artichokes,  heirloom tomatoes, sugar snap peas, grapes, strawberries, raspberries, blueberries, gooey dark chocolate, chimichurri, mojo, eclairs, shrimp fra diavolo, panaang curry, cotton candy, thick filet mignon with a glass of good dark red, eggs benedict, lox bagel, ceviche, gelato,sorbet, mango, hand-cut chips with maytag blue cheese, carpaccio with freshly-shaved parmesan, coq-au-vin, marshmallow creme, fresh roasted beets, artisan lettuce, fresh organic carrots, avocados, grapes, tiramisu

And just because a food is on my not-so-sexy list doesn't mean I don't eat it.  Some things are better left untold.

melodia

Tax Candy

Every morning on my way to work, I see people dressed in Uncle Sam and Lady Liberty costumes standing on the edge of a busy street and waving their little hearts out.  It is beyond disturbing that a tax preparation company would go to such gimmicky lengths to advertise their services.  If you've ever thought you had a shitty job, think again.  Honestly, am I gonna hire the agency with corner tricks to do my taxes? 

It bugs me and I just had to say so.

melodia

Transference

It's like I stepped in a time-machine and transported back in time.  This feeling started unconsciously thursday night, when I had snuck outside to grab a smoke.  The wind was blowing something fierce and in the not-too-far distance I could hear wind chimes clanging madly.  From inside the house, Spoon's new release "Transference" was blaring.  Since I don't smoke so much anymore, I copped a pretty decent buzz from the smoke.  Reminding me of a time when I was much younger, hanging in the back yard of a little house in a college town, listening to incredibly talented musicians jam.  One, in particular, who would never remember me in a million years - but hit the big time.  He would remember a friend of mine, I have no doubt.  Although I've lost contact with that friend too.  So, for all I know they are still hanging in some backyard somewhere jamming.  This tangent has a point, and that is "Transference" takes me back to precisely that time.  Which is really ironic.

from Wikipedia:   "According to The Source published in June 2001, "During transference, people turn into a 'biological time machine.'" A nerve is struck when someone says or does something that reminds you of your past. This creates an "emotional time warp" that transfers your emotional past and your psychological needs into the present."

Friday night was spent at the firepit in the back yard with two of my best friends, and still....."Transference" playing in the background.  I was feeling exactly like I did in the days of hanging out by the river with a campfire burning, and watching the flames dance - in search of answers to questions I had about  my future.  Interesting how those questions never seem to be answered.  We keep on keeping on. We keep having a future and we want to know how it's going to go down. Some things never change and that isn't necessarily a bad thing.

Saturday morning I went to my first official knitting lesson at the coolest little yarn shop ever.  Not just a yarn shop, but a boutique as well.  Even cooler is they carry one of my favorite perfumes that I had been looking for for a while now.  A scent that takes me back - inhaling it and evoking feelings of fearlessness and pure abandon, unlimited creativity and adventure. Sitting at the table were 3 other women who were a good bit older than me and while I was enjoying myself and learning a lot, I was feeling out of my element.  I was wondering how in the hell I got to this stage of life that I am sitting with older women knitting.  Me.  The wild child, Buckhead Fuckhead (a whole other story), once starving-artist turned quasi-successful, offbeat hairdresser.  I am knitting, in public....frigging taking a class.  Just as I reached the edge of a panic attack, a punky young girl walks in.  Early twenties with black scene hair, Killers t-shirt and skully sneakers with a 5-foot long scarf in tow that she is still working on.  She took the seat next to me and we both smiled.  I was instantly back in high school.  All of a sudden, knitting was cool again and my new friend and I talked about coffee shops, hair, bands and gaming on the net.   I'll be going back.  Cool kids can knit too.

Saturday night was Cuban food and a movie.  We were the only Americans in the restaurant and I was reminded of the days when I hung out with my Greek friend in places owned by her friends and family.  Me being the only non-Greek.  It's a role I felt incredibly comfortable in.  Looking back, it's a role I've found myself in repeatedly.....the only "non-whatever" in the place.  I like being the 'non'.......'Non is Good."

Post-movie was spent drinking Cupcake Cab with my bud. "Transference" once again playing in the background while we gave each other assessments from an old book I found about self-discovery.  To be completely honest, I don't remember much due to the wine - but I can tell you that I am an "11" which is a good thing I'm told.  I can't help wondering if 11 is the number of 'non'.

So many things this weekend took me back in time.  I have no idea if the new Spoon release had anything to do with it.  It's nothing new and different from the band and seems like a sampling from previous albums as far as lyrics and melodies.  The thing that took me back was the sound, the "unfinishedness" of it, jumping around from one thing to another which is apparently what the band was going for - to sound more like a demo than a final production.

melodia

Love is in the Air

It seems to be going around....love.  Love lists.  Here's mine:

My Yale sweatshirt. Sand between my toes and the sound of surf.   Crystal clear water and powdery white sand.  Music. Music. Music. A fine red wine.  Patron Margaritas.  Cupcakes - key lime is my most favorite.  Cold dog noses and warm dog hugs.  Bonsai trees.  Funky, creative art.  Faces.  Illy espresso and cappuccino.  Steamed Oysters with lemon-garlic-butter. Sushi. Panaang Curry. Fire-grilled pizza. Carpaccio.  Chimmichurri on top of Cuban Steak or Snapper.  Intimate music venues.  Jasmine Pearls Tea.  Yogi Tea.  Caramel Sauce.  Acoustic guitar up close and personal.  Damn-good-fitting blue jeans. Expressive color in hair.  Scene hair.  Long virgin hair.  Short, funky, spiky hair.  Sunsets in the back yard.  Fire-pit chats.  Dinner in the hot tub.  Game night.  Driving curvy mountain roads with the top down and the music blaring.  A day in my art studio when it all goes right - flinging paint on canvas and stepping back wondering where that 'came from'.  Laying on a quilt in the middle of a field on one of the first warm spring days.  The Red Bar.  Randomness. Mick Jagger.  Roger Daltry.  Jim Morrison.  Jimmy Page.  Elvis Costello.  Dave Matthews.  Michael Timmins.  Tori Amos.  Patty Griffin.  Enigma.  Madonna.  KT Tunstall.   Imogen Heap.  Leela James.  Neko Case.   Blondie - friggin Blondie!  Dark blue or purple toenails.  Massages.  The act of smoking, even if i never do again.  Losing myself in the piano.  Meaningful and original tattoos.  Quirky stories and books.  Confident-enough women.  Hot baths. Eucalyptus-Spearmint or Lemongrass Peppermint.  Tiger Balm.  Words.  Humor. Light breezes.  Warm sun on my skin.  Smiles. Hugs.  Love.  <3

I Believe In You

Family.  You are either born into it or you build your own.  My genetic family consists of my dad, for whom I am incredibly grateful.  He is a constant reminder of persistance, kindness, of good and laughter.  The rest of my family, I spent a lifetime gathering - here and there. Friends who have become so intertwined in my life, that the description 'friend' just doesn't cut it.

These are the friends with whom I share pizza in the hottub at sunset.  The friend who teaches me how to use an axe to split wood into kindling.  (Yeash)  The friend who doesn't mind if I beat her shamelessly in a game of cards.  The friend who is willing to brave the Korean Sauna with me.  The friend who makes sure I am not alone when I face tough times.  I'm no where near done, but you get the point.

So, I have this window card one of my friends gave me at Christmas time.  She gave me two and I opened one immediately, saving the second for a day when I needed some extra inspiration.  On the front, it reads "I Believe In You".  I popped it open this morning, as I was facing a day I was feeling uneasy about.  The words couldn't have been more perfect.  "The easiest thing to be in the world is you.  The most difficult thing to be is what other people want you to be."  -Leo Buscaglia

I forgot to mention the window card when we were catching up on the phone tonite.  But, she knows.  She knew when she gave it to me.  That's why she's my family.

So pay to ride the ferris wheel
Smile, all that you can feel
Is gratitude for what has been
-Conor Oberst

melodia

Grace

Creativity and expression through creation mesmirizes me. By disconnecting from one's humanity and allowing the inspiration, the vision and mostly the passion to flow through oneself to culminate in a 'product'. The product being what it is whether a work of art, a structure, a story or a song. The act, the flow of energy from the creator to the creation, is what I consider grace.

Admire the products, be in awe of the grace.

“Gracefulness has been defined to be the outward expression of the inward harmony of the soul” - William Hazlitt

melodia

Treading in the Deep End

Well, it happened - I climbed aboard the Wacko Train. It's a lot more decadent than I thought it would be and I got a nice, cushy window seat in first class. I'm sitting on the edge of my seat, with a racing heartbeat and sweaty palms. Wondering if I will be showered with gifts and prizes by sexy girls in bikinis and high heels as the obnoxious music blares and confetti floats through the air. Or if I will soon find myself sweating, bug-eyed, struggling and tangled in the base of my seat as the train topples over the edge of the Huey P. Long bridge and splashes in the water.

It's not the first time and I'm pretty sure it isn't the last. In order for things to change, you have to open yourself and let it happen. Sometimes you find a beginning and sometimes you find an end. But, all ends lead to a beginning. It's time, I'm ready and I'm open. It's been barely over 24 hours since I quit resisting, and it has brought me great humility and a little pain. Even so, there's this little flutter in me - of relief and of excitement - the cessation of stagnation.

I reach out with my left hand to grasp the hand propped on the armrest and wonder if it's the hand of an angel or the devil. I twine my fingers with the being, take a deep breath and sink into my seat......

melodia