snow

I love snow; for one, it makes everything white and pretty and clean. For two, it reminds me of sledding and snowball fights. It is the best part of winter. Unless you are living in the great white north where the snow is too much sometimes, I think most ppl like the stuff a little bit, especially the first snow of the season. Plus also, you can make a snowman and discuss love, ask him what he learned about it. Answer probably = it is everything and also who needs it and also it hurts and also it is the best thing ever. Right?

Bottom line is that snow is good.

...unless you live happen to be living in Washington DC and the first few flakes of snow occur in the morning hours. When it takes you 3 hours to get to work as a result of inching along I-95 to travel 2 miles in 1.5 hours and doing the math in your head tells you that at this rate, it is possible that your commute back home might take you into next week THEN maybe snow is not pretty and clean and happy anymore. This is why you drink sometimes (like now). This is why you must question the wisdom of cramming so many people in so many cars in so little square mileage because it is clear that dealing with things like the weather and like air is simply asking too much. It is also slightly scary to think of how the government of this great country operates at all given the near-shutdown that occurs at the first sign of moisture. I wish I were kidding. And one more thing, I hate having to bitch about the city and people and blah blah blah small-town-girl-in-DC etc because it gets old and repetitive and annoying, why can't I just talk about sex instead. That is a good question because I do not particularly care for the person I am becoming as a result of this whole business. It is time to buck up, tiny dancer, and get a grip. So this is me getting a grip. Turn a page and remember what is important (see below):

Junior High School Confidential

Man, here's a piece of advice. If you ever make your way into DC to check out the museums, avoid Saturdays during the school year. Apparently, every junior high in the surrounding area decided to have their field trip to the Smithsonian hot spots this weekend. I know this because I bumped into no less than ten 12-year olds who were forced to take notes about they-don't-even-care-what. They were also attempting to negotiate that awkward space between being cool and being a dork. It's a fine line and one that is made infinitely harder when you are forced to wear matching color-coded tshirts with your school name on the front and "DC Field Trip '07!" on the back. Oh those Jr High days, huh? I just wanted to see some damn rocks and shit.

Yeah, so this weekend has been a long restless one. A nice long conversation with Vivvy on Fri helped keep me out of the local drinking establishment "ubby's iner" (the neon had given up the ghost on some of the letters in the sign, alas). I also watched two men piss in the parking lot so yeah, thank you sweetie for saving me from myself. And ubby's. (And also thank you for your fabulous Harper Lee story. This is why you are my hero. That and your dead-on impersonation of Charles Nelson Reilly.)

Saturday was of course all about the Smith (as I like to call it). Today the dog park (we found one on the east side of town) and yes, I finally mowed the damn grass. In between those activities, I have been wandering here/there all restless and whatnot. Clearly, I need to occupy my time 24/7 before I start down the path of cheap motels and even cheaper booze. I kid, but yeah, I've got to get my shit situated. Oh, to be 12 again! Not.

Barefoot Contessa

On this dreary Sunday, I just figured out why I (secretly) love Ina Garten. She totally looks like my therapist and she cooks. Transference much?

dance dance revolution

Always with some damn song going through my head at odd hours of the night. I'm putting it here to let it go so I don't fall asleep with it rattling around my brain. I have fucky dreams as it is, no need to add to it.


I’ll see you next fall
at another gun show
I’ll call the day before, like usual

but I wanted so much more
I got exodus damage bleed,
could not commit,
some things I’ll never be

so now we’re talking about this
I’m starting to lose my confidence
no one ever says a word about
so much that happens in the world

dance dance revolution
all we’re gonna get
unless it falls apart
so I say: go go go
let it fall down
I’m ready for the end

- Exodus Damage - John Vanderslice

Blah blahs

Moving right along, I am going to pretend like I did not just liveblog about my toilet. What I am going to do is whine about stupid Christmas and the fact that it is here again. It seems like the minute it turns Dec, it's all about Christmas like it owns the damn month. I think I offically hate it now and that brings me down. All the holiday shit on TV and the red and green bullshit in the stores and whatever. Even when we get a tree this weekend, all I can think about is how I really don't want to go up into the gdamn garage attic and pull out boxes of Xmas shit and deal with it. I think I'm just looking for something to bitch about so why not the obvious? Plus I think I am getting a cold. Bundle of joy here today!

Or so you wrote

In my head for days:


The Painted Desert can wait till summer.
We've played this game of just imagine long enough.
Wait till summer?
When I'm sure the rains have ended, the blooms have gone,
every one killed by the morning frost.

Is a cactus blooming there in every roadside stand
where the big deal is cowboy gear won in Japan?

The Painted Desert can wait till summer.
We've played this game of just imagine long enough.
Wait till summer?
When I'm sure the rains have ended and the blooms have gone,
everyone killed by the morning frost.

Is a cactus blooming there upon the Northern rim
or in the ruins of the Hopi mesa dens?

You met a new friend in the Canyon, or so you wrote.
On a blanket in the cooling sand, you and your friend agreed that,
the stars were so many there they seemed to overlap.

The Painted Desert can wait till summer.
We've played this game of just imagine long enough.
Wait till summer?
When I am sure the rain has ended, the blooms have gone,
everyone killed by the morning frost.

Was a cactus blooming there as you watched the Native boy?
In Flagstaff trailer court, you wrote the line:
"He kicked a tumbleweed and his mother called him home where the Arizona moon met the Arizona sun."

I wanted to be there by May at the latest time.
Isn't that the plan we had or have you changed your mind?
I haven't read a word from you since Phoenix or Tucson.
April is over will you tell me how long before I can be there?

- The Painted Desert 10,000 Maniacs

Here's your one chance!

As you may/may not know, I have a little commute to/fro work each day in the car and I spend that time engaged in various activities. Listening to CDs, cycling through the radio station, weather-watching, noting progress on the fascinating I-70 widening project (which you too can keep up to date with its own webpage! Why, look, here I am doing a little hands-on inspection of Buck's "blasting caps"), thinking, dreaming, sleeping, plotting world domination, etc etc..

Well today, I decided to start a catch-phrase/self-motivation campaign in which I attempt to incorporate a certain phrase or mantra into any/all contexts and get others to do likewise. I knew I would have to select a catch-phrase that was applicable in many diferent contexts, you really want diversity on your side when it comes to globalization. It had to be something that could work in a variety of settings and could mean a variety of things. Plus it had to be "catchy"...and if possible, naturally lend itself to song. So I selected: Fancy, don't let me down!

Those unfamiliar with Reba McEntire's illustrious career as a country music and small screen star may not recognize this line from one of her more heartbreaking songs. Fancy tells the story of a young woman forced into prostitution to help support her family living on the outskirts of New Orleans. With an absentee father, an ill mother, and a baby sister who is hungry, Fancy, with the guidance of her mother/madam, must seek employment uptown, away from the rickety shack she once called home. It is only through the divine inspiration of a heart-shaped locket that Fancy realizes that she is going to have to make a life for herself and essentially pull herself up by her own garterbelts. In the end, she finds true love and makes a home for herself and her husband. Most importantly, she does so with her head held high, no longer shamed by her white trash roots. Now, I don't recount this story to bring a tear to your eye or to elicit an "atta-girl" or even to inspire a knowing nod of self-recognition (because, after all, we're all Fancies). Rather, I highlight this as a way to illustrate just how universally my new catch-phrase rings true.

Say you're gambling in Las Vegas and you've put your last $50 on black 16, and this morning you found yourself married to the strange man/woman sitting next to you. You lost your plane ticket home. You are hung over and if you don't win, you will be catching a ride with this strange man/woman back to Kentucky. Or Alabama. What better time to cajole the roulet wheel with this prayer: "Fancy, don't let me down"

Perhaps your best friend is hesitating about some plans you've made, perhaps she's noncommittal about meeting you for drinks at Sky Bar. Maybe your friend is Tara Reid and she's not sure she can drag herself out. Ok, scratch that, she'll go out with you, never mind. How about your other friend who isn't a lush. Will righteous indignation directed at her work? "Fancy, don't let me down!"

What if you're driving a shaky car, like a 1989 Pontiac Grand Am, or a '92 Ford Festiva and it's raining, or snowing, or you're on the wrong side of the tracks, or in the middle of nowhere and you experience car problems. Let's say it's the alternator (again). Or the waterpump. How about rubbing the dashboard and softly whispering: "Fancy, don't let me down..."

Maybe you are at a crossroad in your life, the relationship isn't working out, or your career trajectory is changing, or you will be moving to a new house, or trailer. Perhaps you are starting a new job, or classes, or dancing at the gentlemen's club up on Highway K. What if you need to motivate yourself to finish that degree, or ask for that raise, or lapdance that next client. How will you talk yourself into believe that, yes, you can do this, yes, you believe in yourself, yes, you will make all your dreams come true. Fancy, don't let me down..here's your one chance.

You see? There's a Fancy for all occasions and a Fancy in each of us. Now go out there and say it proud and say it loud. Others may mock you, but they will not understand the power of self-determination, of self-promotion, or of prostitution. They will not see the wisdom of a 50-something red-headed firecracker of a country music and small screen star. If it brings you comfort or luck, well then, my job here is done. I am just the messenger, you must be the message. Fancy, don't let me down..