Them’s The Rules – It’s French Revolution Time, Start Knitting!

Firstly, I must thank Violet for this topic. Clever, sophisticated, and undaunted in the face of a hurricane, I dedicate this to Miss V.

 

Okay,on to topic. Rules. Ordinarily I make the rules, and sometimes bend them until they break. to serve my needs.

Here they be:

1. No, never, at any time is there smoking in my vicinity. The scars in my lungs from other turmoils forbid this habit.

2. In no way or fashion, does “smooth jazz” (an oxymoron for morons), “mellow”  or any other invade my reality. It is annoying, mindless, and will enrage me to do things whereby I might be on tv in a bad way.. If I want to listen to the Doors 87,000 times in a row,  that’s what it’s gonna be. Followed by Siouxsie/Banshees. Classical is acceptable Disco as well. C/W only while drivng through Quartzite.

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3. TV only for the following instances: “Ab Fab”, shopping for faux coats, and breaking news in case of riots. Which I have been through to the point of being driven out of my home due to incessant tv “coverage”, more like a goddamn  map for destruction. TV is the devil’s dues ex machina.

4. An actual road atlas, map, compass, water, wooden boards, rope, hammer, oil, antifreeze, and blanket in the trunk. I have heard that stupid mapstar or wtf it is called actually say “Left turn. Crash into building” while at an intersection.

5. Flush the terlit, as my Irish grandmother (more like hateful nasty old lady, but I’m being kind here), put a new roll on when needed, clean hair out of shower/sink,  and do not give the iguana a bath so it can take an oodle in the tub.

6. Don’t touch my stuff. I know where everythng is, just ask politely.  Or I’ll throw you straight through the door. Unopened. Especially perfume.

7. Any cat “jokes”, meanness, i.e., my cat is an extension of me, tread lightly.The outcome for offenders will make the French revolution look like a church picnic.

There are probably lots more. But I am tired and fain would lie down.

Oh, yes. It’s a full moon and I’m feeling feline. Here’s an interestng factoid. I went to file for my last and final divorce on 9/11. It was granted on the same date that my father had passed away the year before. Figure it out, I can’t.

 

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If I’d Known it Was Going to Be Like This, I’d have raised more hell

Tags

betrayls, Hell, hospitals

Yesterday I had an angioplasty.For those of you unfamilar with this, it is a procedure where they insert a small camera into your vena artery. This is located down by your legs, so you also get a free! yes free! brazilian strip so they can insert the needle full of iodine into the crease between your leg and trunk. Then, it’s threaded up into your heart , the iodine is let loose, you are xrayed in a device that always makes me feel I am in a jet engine sounding eerily the same. Then a sedagive (I wrote it that way on purpose for those in the know -abby, abby normal?) flows into your veins to woo you into the land of the otherwise.

This was done because a issue arose last week, and being a woman, they JUST love to experiment on you. The issue being they said they “found” a 75-50 percent blockage after I went to the ER with some odd symptoms that might be a heart related issue.
Well, the upshot of all this is that the fucking idiot radiologist didn’t read it right the first time and this is what was decided upon. I detest hospitals as well due to fact that all those perky little nurses who are really trolling for dr. husbands are a sore point with me. To that end I regard them as my personal slaves. And they always wear the most ghastly cheap perfume (to wit:oh, I’m wearing Britny Spears ‘cos it comes in sucha pretty bottle”. I rest my case.
So I wake up in bed and cannot move my right leg as I might bleed to death if I do.
No sleep. Just more blood taken. Every 5 hrs. Hell has nothing on these places.
Anyway, the blockage is only 4% in the bone (thank you AZ for the calcium) and can be elimniated by my meds.
Shakespeare should have added the phrase “…and all the doctors too!” to the famous line about lawyers.
It’s off to try and sleep, gentle readers. Maybe there will a nice earthquake to distract me from feeling like a giant pincushion.

Doing My Hair At 3AM

well, it’s nice and peaceful and I can listen to my college radio music station that plays what I love, and the hell with the rest.
After hair is done, it’s time for Mickey & Mallory.
Oh, they are playing “I Had Too Much To Dream Last Night”
Rock on! I’m going be my horrible self and like or lump it, that’s the way it’s going be now. Maybe even go back to being a cocktail waitress. Shame I don’t drink anymore,, but think of the movie like quality – surreal from a distance.
Or it could be Holly Golightly.

Someone To Watch Over Me

You all know who you are.

I love each and everyone of you…that dream in SF which I’ll never know the end of. It envelopes me at times I cannot guess why. Left my heart in San Francisco so true.
Birthdays & Christmas.
School projects brought home with love.
Kitty love.
Sunrises.
Waking up next to you in a pure moment, cursed to disappear. I see signs about me, but don’t know what to do …and thinking about you more than I can control.

Well, there it is. Surprise me, come to me with a kiss.

Happy New Year!

Tags

New Year

Okay, I am a tad bit early, but this year has been hell and blue murder all ways round.
So, here are my resolutions and thanks.

I am thankful that I did not die from pneumonia. Beyond words.
I am thankful for my dearest Aunt Ann – a voice of reason and love in this miasma of the past year’s events.
I am thankful my Sean is alive and in one piece having moved out of Pasadena barely before the horrible destruction of the Santa Ana wind recently.
I am thankful that Miss Violet is one tough cookie, a real “dame”, who has faced the opponent and is winning.
I am glad that I have reunited with my FIrst Husband, Paul, so I can do all the fun stuff I love. Gardening, cleaning., shopping, and a partner who is supportive in so many wonderful ways.
My New Years resolution is to return to myself and enjoy each day instead of marking time. And hoping I can do all the things I want to, and leave the past behind where it belongs

I wish each and everyone love, happiness, and the strength plus direction to achieve their goals as well.

I love you all.

Oh yeah, and world peace at least to some degree.

Love, hugs, & kisses to all in 2012!

I Dreamed of Robert Di Niro

Tags

art, ashbys, cornelia street, di niro, nyc

I woke up this morning after dreaming of above mentioned person.
I think this was because when we lived in NY, my father worked for a frame maker (Ashby) on 18 Cornelia St. It was a large studio area with frames displayed above along the walls. My father, Willliam, made the frames with gold leaf and varnish, something I have learned, yet haven’t used. Robert Di Niro Sr. and his son Robert used to come in for frames and supplies – they’d all chat. There was a wood burning stove in the middle of the room and it could get rather cold in there. I remember occasional visits there – Ashby was a Mormon from out West somewhere and when I lived in NY, I’d visit. The smell was like a strange perfume of turpertine, shellac, oils, raw canvas.

Once I took a friend of mine in there and they were quite impressed, it being in Little Italy and them being Italian, Ralph appreciated the place and talking. Plus eating in the neighborhood was just perfect – long before it had been revamped into parvaneau esoterica.

I miss New York’s energy. It’s been a while since I’ve been back, but a trip is in the air I feel.

Anyway, that’s my story and my father’s, who along with my mother used to paint and then sell them in the outdoor show for us to go spend a few months in France every year. My father is gone to that painting space in Heaven, but Natalie is still around.And painting.

I wish you all a wonderful New Year!

Dance Faster and Hang On

To clip a quote: the future’s uncertain and the end is always near. This neatly covers my alleged last Saturn return in which one gets one final chance to make it right. It’s energy is electric, unending, terrifying in choice and let’s just fall down that rabbit hole and see whose there waiting.
I have been traveling, re-enacting a precursor to this current life, which has begun to crack off in pieces visible only to me. If I take it at face value, it’s a rerun of another time and place. Or to put it plain, another door to choose and go through.

Seeking counsel is futile as the other shoe has yet to drop. Needless to say, it has left me frantically trying to remember what I forgot to see the last time. Throwing the cards has been futile, due to the sychronicity factor.

Who will show up? Who will stay and who will go? Overwhelming it is and the map flew out the window with a vengeance. I will embrace this energy all the while mindful of the past and my unerring sense of misdirection.

Fog of The Spirits.

Of which I am in one. Seriously. Just open the door, walk outside, and find yourself enveloped in mist, swirling about. You can hear the squeaking of the rats now and then.

This is not the worst place I have ever lived, but it is the most boringly lacking in anything. Unless, of course you are ….oh never mind.

Watched “Death Wish” tonight and got to see my father and his friend Eugene in a couple of scenes. At least then he isn’t gone to me as he is in reality.I miss him more than words can express.

And I have too much to do and not enough miles to do it in.

What Perfume Does Sophia Loren Wear?

Tags

Options

Ok, I’m laate. For everything. Big Deal. Answer the question in the title.
I’ve decided that since I been ill since June (not as ill as some but a real chinese horror movie). Pills that don’t work, pills that sort of work, and now the latest round of antibiotics for my tired dustbowl worn out mother self.

So, to detour from the boredom, I have decided to channel the spirit of Sophia Loren. Great look, great movies, molto bella!
My hair is back to its original brunette and has grown out enough for me to go mad with hot rollers and hair spray, a most probable fatal combination, but at this point I just don’t give a shit. It’s that tricky eyeliner I must master.
Being less than stellar in feeling like doing anything but sleep, and then go back to sleep because I am so tired from sleeping.
Need: black slips, shoes of doom, and a full on Anna Magniani attitude. I love her comment about ageing: ” I will never have plastic surgery – I earned all these lines!!”.
THAT’S the attitude I must remember.

And she always carries something red (read her book) because she believes in magic.  Ms. Loren I am referring to.

Now to practice eye makeup in bed – it’s all I can muster right now. Maybe drawing a new beige mouth.  And look for a nice loud perfume.

 

 

Ciao, bella.

Merci Buttercup

Miss Tsunami would like to thank Violet for her kind referral to Etsy. That blonde fairy wig is calling my name as my hair is very very angry with me lately.

Applause for Miss Violet for her kind ways and unswerving sense of style & decorum.

And for being the toughest, yet gentle, smart cookie I have had the great grace  to meet. Keep on keeping on, sister!