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Generally, premartial sex is sex that you have before marriage. What if you have no intention of marrying the person? Would that then be something else? Nonmarital sex? I'm no longer married. In the event that I actually have sex again in my lifetime, should I consider that postmarital sex?
I was just wondering. Any thoughts?
I declared it Leslie Day a while back. Ever since, I have been meaning to dedicate a blog entry to the Leslie. We love the Leslie. You may recall Leslie first becoming famous for running to the convenient market as we were in line up for the St. Patty's Day parade in Jackson two years ago. She brought back fried chicken and pickles on a stick and a cold six pack of beer and proceeded to plop her ass down on the curb, dressed as a box of Beignet Mix, and consumed and shared. So it was 9am. What the hell did we care? We were on vacation!
Since then, Leslie has been routinely sending the most random, most hilarious lines of email or text messages that just make me nearly pee my pants laughing or at least scratch my head. So, in honor of Leslie being here from Oklahoma! this weekend and the parade being around the corner, I thought I would share some of them as much as they will embarrass her. She asked for it. They may be out of context but I think it makes them funnier.
"I danced cheek to cheek with the Attorney General."
"I just got back from (the city of) Frederick's Fantastic Oyster Fry."
"I made out with Janie Fricke's fiddle player last night."
"I remember putting Willie in the china."
"Someone I didn't know very well asked me if I slept with this Senator."
"I nearly crashed my new boss's $140,000 Mercedes Benz today."
"Either I'm a big fat whore or a lesbian." (She is neither, despite doing shots and making out with fiddlers. The fiddler was male. There was no roof involved.)
Let's all love the Leslie. Think of us this weekend, as I'm sure our plans will involve a beer or two and me learning the hand motions that go with the state song of Oklahoma!, which is ... Oklahoma!
I am exhausted. I got up at 5:15 this morning in order to make a good concerted effort at getting ready, getting my daughter up and ready, getting from Peoria to Scottsdale and Scottsdale to Tempe before 8:15 for a writing class. I made it. I was amazed.
Today was day two of the Desert Nights, Rising Stars Writers Conference at ASU. I did an hour long class this morning with Mary Sojourner. I wrote crap. Really, it was crap. Maybe it was too early. Then I headed to a workshop being given by Laurie Notaro. I have long loved the Laurie Notaro. The time spent in her session was invaluable. It validated where I need to be. I'm not a serious writer. I am serious about writing but I can do it with a straight face. I have to laugh. I write creative non-fiction and it has to be funny because life is fun. Half the game is getting laugh at it openly. All that seriousness does not become me.
On that note, I then spent two hours in an intensive small group writing instruction class with Mary again. What I love about Mary is that our style of writing and our subject matter are so very different. But, she encourages me, supports me and asks the difficult questions. She gives me the jumping off point. Today she gave us a prompt and one word that randomly came to my head has started a snowball rolling. I have an idea and about ten pages written. It started out as yet another attempt at semi-serious writing and is morphing into a serious or dry subject matter twisted by humor. I'm liking it. She gave me permission to take the afternoon session off and go write. I did. Thanks Mary!
Before I headed out to write I went to a panel discussion about balancing the writing life with careers and parenting. I got some very smart insight and met a fabulous poet named Peter Pereira. I've just spent a little time reading his stuff and I love it. We had a great chat at the end of the day about routine writing and blogs. He was a delight and I felt like I'd known him for ages, I love that kind of connection.
Then, the best part, I got to talk to Laurie Notaro for a little while. I love her. I really do. She is too cool. There are several reasons why I love her. She is funny as hell. She's just adorable. She's very real. She thought I was in my early 20's.
I stopped by Barnes and Noble today on the way home. Usually, I'm not a fan of B & N. It just seems kind of cold in there. Very lifeless. They can't fool me with their Starbucks and their big chairs. I went to college in a small hippie town. I'm much more of a grab a coffee from Macy's Coffee House and head over to Bookman's for a few hours kind of girl. And, literally I could spend hours in a bookstore. With the multitude of books the have at B & N, I could feasbily be there until Friday.
I didn't spend hours in there tonight. Why? Because they were playing that weird ass Celtic music. Is it just me or is that the freakiest crap you've ever heard in your life? That stuff is like nails on a chalkboard. The point at which I had to flee the building was when the strange Celtic woman starting singing Somewhere Over the Rainbow. Some things you just leave alone...
It's the tail end of Valentine's Day. I had a good day. A very good one for no apparent reason. But really, I have to share what I've been reduced to at this point. I am in lying in bed with my laptop playing my iTunes louder than normal. Here's the bad part. What is it that is emanating from my computer? Kenny Rogers. "She Believes in Me." Of course I'm singing along. I have serious issues....
We used to have this great radio station here. 97.5. It was a lot of old standards. SInatra, Martin, Etta, Ella, Louis, Harry, etc. They played Michael Buble frequently. I was never really a fan until I heard Save the Last Dance for Me. I adore that song. That song makes me happy.
Before Michael Buble, the last time I had heard that song was Valentine's Day 2003. I was at the Elk's Lodge. Yes, I spent a Valentine's Day at the Elk's Lodge. I was knee deep in "Elkdom." The band that played that night had played my sister's wedding. That's why we weere there. That song started and I headed out to the dance floor. I danced around that floor being twirled around and around. It was so much fun. I sang along with the biggest smile on my face. I had the best dance partner ever. My dad. Dad and I will stop everything and dance to that song every chance we get and it doesn't matter where. Elk's Lodge or living room.
Tomorrow is Valentine's Day and I'll have the same Valentine I've had since I was about 8 years old. He gets me a heart shaped box of See's Candy every year and always has. At this point, that's all I need. I know I'm loved. I know that there is going to come a time in my life when I can't with him anymore. But, he'll always be my Valentine and I will always save the last dance for him.
I had a showing of the house today and so I headed out for an undetermined amount of time and to an undetermined location. I ended up in Downtown Glendale. I'd not been there for about 15 years or so and have heard that it's come a long way.
It was lunchtime and stopped in a German place. My waiter was Joe. Let me tell you about Joe. Joe was the kind of guy who when you started chatting with him, he pulled up a chair. During my 45 minute lunch, I learned this about Joe: He is from the Bronx, going through a mid-life crisis, recently divorced, has a 12 year old back in New York, is getting a very large tattoo of just about every comic book character on his back (yes, he showed me), used to eat frozen Mallomars after smoking pot in the 70s., his favorite restaurant is a place called Pisano's, his mother is English and his dad is Puerto Rican. I'm not making any of this up.
I had about the best lunch I've had in ages. Thuringer bratwurst, kraut, spaetzle, a vinegar salad, warm rye bread and a pint German beer. They have live music in the beergarten after 4pm. Who knew? At he end of my lunch, Joe asked if it would be too forward to ask for my phone number. Yes, Joe, that would be very forward. Sorry. Oh my. Can I also say that this is the second time in 48 hours I have been asked out by a waiter while out by myself? I really must get some friends. I'm beginning to this I look horribly desperate. Not good.
I did some antiquing and bought a Creole cookbook of recipes compiled from Creole housewives in 1885. Interesting stuff. I'm now home and safely away from waiters and parked on my couch. It's pouring rain. I have a hot spiked cappuccino and I'm getting ready to go through the massive amount of classic movies in my TiVo, starting with Fellini's La Dolce Vita.
His name is Michael Chiarello.
A) He's Italian.
B) I think the salt and pepper hair is totally sexy. Seriously.
C) His dishes are so far from generic but not anything intimidating.
D) He just knows his stuff.
E) Him chopping onions is a thing of beauty.
Really, I could eat him with a spoon. He is that cute. I only wish I could convince him to use good seasoned cast iron over Le Crueset. No man is perfect.
It just hit me. Bad. I mean, real bad. I need to go.
I am sitting here laughing my ass off thinking of the gazillion memories I have of jumping in the car and just going. Usually this involved Jen and Barbara and most likely involved a Jeep with the doors off and bathing suits. It always involved celebratory beers upon crossing the border and a whole lot of Jimmy Buffet, "Fernando" and Selena in Spanish. It was a fabulous beer buzz by 2pm at J.J.'s Cantina or Margaritavilla, a late afternoon nap and then back out for the night.
I just want to drive down there and do nothing. Speak nothing but Spanish all day. Eat dog tacos from the street vendor. Do tequila shots until I'm silly. Have a beer for breakfast. Lay in the sun with Jimmy and Kenny blaring from the stereo. Dance like an idiot at Manny's. Know no strangers. Live in flip flops and my bathing suit for a couple of days.
I have been way too stressed lately. This is what I need to slow the hell down. Soon.
The last five minutes of my favorite show summed up life for me tonight.
The first 45 minutes or so didn't necessarily drag but you know there something more and that's what you want delivered. And there I am. I was waiting for that big glorious something to happen. It always does and you have to know it's coming. And it did.
It occurred to me that, for me at least, life is like that. We spend a good amount of time getting frustrated with everything going on around us and things beyond our control. We get annoyed. We great aggravated. We want things to just move on. We're done. But we never throw in the towel because we know the big glorious something is out there. We don't know what it is but we know we want it. And now.
I sat on my couch watching that last five minutes. I screamed, then I cheered, then I laughed, then I cried. All in five minutes. That's where life leads us. Big glorious somethings with frustration in between. That five minutes was worth it. My five minutes are going to come. It will make all the current frustrations worth it. I just have faith like that. Call me a crazy, optimistic idealist. I'm okay with that.
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