A Room of One's Own

Culture of generosity

I had lunch today with an old friend. I don't mean he's old. I mean he's known me since I was 12. And really, I will cherish anyone who knew me at 12 that is still willing to associate with me.

I haven't seen Robert in quite some time. We had quite a bit of catching up to do. Still do. We'll be working on that. Since I last saw him, he married the girl he has been pinning over since he was 17. Really, it's the sweetest love story I've heard in the longest time. Somehow our lunch conversation turned to managing finances as a married couple. They keep all of their money separate. But, he was telling me that if one of them has more than the other and the other wants something and can't get it, they have a "culture of generosity." Ones gives to the other out of sheer generosity.

I loved this idea and immediately declared Robert an amazing specimen of the human race. It's just genius. More than genius, it's just nice.

Got a spare $137,000?

Usually the Sunday blog is done in my pajamas, coffee in hand, fabulous music blaring, happy feeling all around. Today's Sunday blog is done from work. It's beautiful outside, it's Sunday, I'm in the office trying to balance a 4 million dollar budget and it ain't pretty. I am $137,000 short right now. If you care to donate it, please let me know, I can make all necessary arrangements.

Sadly, this is a whole lot better than sitting in my very unhappy home. If that unhappy home does not sell real soon, I may be spending the better part of the holiday season in a straight jacket.

On a related note: I am already sick of Christmas music. It needs to just go away. I have NO Christmas spirit. I refuse to acknowledge Christmas this year and here's why: I don't do any half assed. Nothing. If something is worth doing, I will pour my heart and soul into it. I won't be able to do Christmas how I'd like to. I can't go all out. And if I can't do that, it's not worth doing. Does that make sense?

One fine day

Today was most likely one of the best and strangest Thanksgiving's I've had.

Any day during which I get to see the Rockettes perform in a parade at Herald's Square is a good one. Really, I remember when I was a kid I wanted to be a Rockette. I think I still do. The Macy's Day Parade is the pinnacle of my holiday season. Sadly, it happens at the beginning of the season so everything else has to live up to that. Very hard to do, but A Christmas Story contends well.

I sat on my couch until noon when I finally got way more motivated than a girl who had eggs, sausage, biscuits and gravy for breakfast should ever be. I went for a run. Maybe if I burn a slew of calories before eating massive amounts of starches, it would be okay? That must have been what I was thinking.

Showered, blew another hair dryer, and headed to Shari's. Yep. This is the first Thanksgiving I have ever spent with out "family." Do not get me wrong, Shari is like family. But, still it was a thought that entered my head that needed to be gotten used to. My parents are in Mexico. My sister and brother-in-law were supposed to be in Mexico but had to cancel and decided to go to a friends house. My 90 year old grandmother decided to be anti-social. I had a great time though. The food was excellent, the company was divine, there was no parental squabbling and no passive aggressive pot shots from a mother-in-law. All in all. Fabulous time. And doing dishes to the blues was the perfect ending.

Career change?

I have decided that I need to be employed in some manner that allows me to work from home in my pajamas. It would be best if said job would pay a handsome sum of money. And really, other than whore, I'm at a loss for what that job may be. I'm open to suggestions.

On a completely unrelated note: why is it so damn hot lately? It was 87 degrees today. That is wrong. I have slept with the sliding door to my balcony wide open all this week and still wake up baking hot. I was certain I hadn't winterized my bed too early. I mean, November should be suitable to break out the down cover. Oh, see, the pajamas got me here. I thought about pajamas it led to sleep and around and around. My brains works in odd ways, no? There is method to my madness. I'm not totally random. But, I am rambling.

And speaking of bed, I'm going there now. 'Night.

Second random thought of the night

Apparently, I am the last human alive with my own breasts. They are nothing to write home about. In fact, if you wanted to write home about them, you may only be able to muster up a haiku. They're not ample enough to warrant a sonnet by any stretch of the imagination.

However, there is a definite coming to terms with my own body that I'm done in the last few months. Yes, I had a cute ass at one point. It was fabulous. But, I've had a kid. It's not fabulous anymore. My breasts are nothing more to look at than a fat 14 year old boy's.

Here's the great thing. I don't give a shit.

Here I go again

No, this is not a post dedicated to Whitesnake. If you thought it was, walk on by.

I love Aaron Sorkin. I love him in a totally unhealthy way. He writes, I swoon. This is it. If I told y'all I would carry his love child, would you still love me? Because, I would. And if any of you are not watching Studio 60 right now, as Mrs. Landingham said, "Hell, I don't even want to know you."

All out there

Disclaimer: Vanessa is under the influence of Samuel Adams, Pretty in PInk, and Joe Cocker, specifically Bye Bye Blackbird.

Sometimes the soundtrack of your life just seems to take its own shape. Right now, Bye Bye Blackbird is it. I had the makings of a delightful day and really it has been one. I slept in, cleaned my house, did every stitch of laundry, went grocery shopping, knitted, baked and watched fabulous movies on TV. I'm just missing one thing. There was supposed to be a boy. 

Yes, Vanessa likes a boy who may need to be hit over the head with a brick. A boy she was fully hoping to win over today with her mad baking skills. At minimum a boy she was just really looking forward to just spending some lazy Sunday time with because she enjoys him. Of much more concern is that she's talking about herself in third person and ending her sentences with prepositions. Why is she doing this? Do you ever just step back from your life and feel like you're watching yourself? Watching yourself stand in your kitchen, holding a beer, playing Joe Cocker loud enough for the neighbors to enjoy, not quite knowing what to do with yourself?

I have a great many things that bring me joy in life. I have a great job, a beautiful daughter, the most amazing girlfriends I can spend hours talking to about life. I have inspiration, hope and great shoes. There's not much Vanessa needs or wants. She'd just like to have a boy kiss her like he means it.

Sure is quiet

The Sunday Blog.

I have a completely empty house today. I do not even remotely remember when the last time this happened. I slept in until 8. This is a big deal for me. I had "church." I've cleaned every corner of my house. My laundry is done. I'm currently talking at you folks and watching Annie Hall. I have forgotten how hilarious this movie is.

In short, I'm putzing. In about two hours, I will have no idea what to do with myself.

It's been at least a week...

...since I mentioned how much I love this man. Because, really, I do. Hard.

CRASH!

I got in my first car accident today, an experience I care not to repeat. A girl's "brakes failed" and she slammed into me going about 25-30 mph. I slammed into the car in front of me. Good times. To say my head and neck hurt may be an understatement. I have a doctor's appointment in a little and am praying he gives me gooooooood drugs. I may force Shari to come to the house tonight and feel bad for me.

Really, I just want to go home and go to bed. Fucking crappy day.