Do you ever really know who lives next door to you? What goes on behind closed doors usually stays a mystery. As we were planning to move from our previous house a couple of years ago we were forced into becoming aware of what was going on in the house next to ours. It was Super Bowl Sunday. We had just arrived home from watching the game at my sister's house on her giant screen TV (with HD! If Hubby was telling this tale...this would be a prominent feature of the story). As we drove down our street, we saw a police car pulling out of our neighbor's driveway . It piqued my interest, we wondered about it...but then forgot about it & went to sleep.

The next morning, Hubby left for work. I watched his car leave & then stop. John (the neighbor in question) was in his car holding Hubby up from going to work. Again, I thought nothing of it (it was a little early in the morning for a chat...but...whatever). Later that day Hubby called me to tell me what he had been talking to John about. I couldn't believe it. John & Gina had always been the kind of neighbors we chatted with when we were both outside doing yard work...but they stayed to themselves...so that's as far as our relationship ever went.

Turns out that they had a knock down, drag out fight the day before. Gina had called the cops...these people had been married ten years & never had to call the cops before (this does not bode well...in my mind...about marriage in general). Gina told the officer that John had head butted her & then raped her (what the fucking hell?). Now, what's your first thought when you hear a wife cry...rape...about her own husband? Overly dramatic? Getting even? Yeah, I thought those things too (damn women...we really ought to stick together better than that!).

They threw John in the county jail & interrogated Gina all night long. Our other neighbor bailed John out & let him spend the night on their couch...that's where he was coming from when he waylaid Hubby & chatted his ear off. I was shocked. Could violence like this have been occurring right next door to me & I had no clue?

Worse yet, John called me a few days later...he wanted to get Hubby to stand up for his character in court. Yeah, uh huh...I really, really want to get in the middle of this whole thing...truly...I did not. I started to say no...but then thought better of it...this man obviously knew where I lived (duh). Was I foolish to fear this man?...nope...I went with my gut on this one...so I didn't say yes or no. Then he started telling me his version of the truth about what happened...did I ask for it? did I want to know? No...trust me...I didn't. He started telling me (& I quote) "Chick, it was beautiful, we made love like it was our first time..." Holy shit...Here's what I said, "John, stop talking RIGHT NOW...I can't hear any of this." Really, I couldn't...my head was about to explode as it was...plus, how weird was that? He wanted to tell me about his sex life? Listen neighbor man...you are seriously & forever creeping me out...STOP.

Cut to a few days later...I'm in the bank with my lawyer (we were selling the house, remember?)...& Gina happens to walk in. She sees me...our eyes lock, I feel compassion & sympathy...she walks up to me & we spontaneously hug (now here's the woman to woman support I was lacking within myself earlier...I may have been slow to catch up...but I finally did).

Want me to make this long story short...Too late you say? Here's the end...John got thrown in jail after using a female friend to fraudulently call up his broker & pretend that she was Gina to liquidate all their funds. He also was charged with spousal rape...or some such heinous thing...I'm not up on these laws & hopefully will never have to be...

He went to jail & while awaiting trial (about a month later) he either hung himself...or was killed...depending on who you talk to about it. Freaky what you don't know about your neighbors lives, huh?

I swore that I wasn't going to shop this weekend. The crowds tend to give me spasms. But the bargains this year were too good to resist. So there I stood on Saturday afternoon, two sleeping bags in my arms for my nephews, along with nail polish for me & a lava lamp for a friend's kid. I stood in line to pay...it was a looong line. I started to sweat. Why do they keep it so hot in most stores? I didn't have any way to take my coat off without dropping everything...so I let the sweat drip down my back...what else could I do?

The line wasn't moving. The guy in front of me was buying condoms with a vibrating ring (a novel idea) & socks. He looked like a guy who'd have sex in his socks (but the vibrating ring surprised me...he just didn't look that original with his cheesy mustache & ugly shoes...but who am I to make assumptions?). The line still wasn't moving...so I tried to picture condom guy actually having sex with his nifty new condoms...but all that came to mind was him putting on the condom & the ring & all that vibrating. I laughed out loud when I thought of him standing there with a quivering penis & his socks. He looked back at me & shifted the condoms in his hands so that I could no longer see them. I shifted the sleeping bags in my arms so that one was jammed between him & me (one move to the right on his part & my balance would be shot).

The girl at the front of the line was paying by check...what the hell? It seems she divided up her purchases into three piles...one payed for by check, one payed for by the stinkin change in her pocketbook (Penny by penny!) & the other payed for with what seemed to be a stolen debit card (she tried a bunch of times to come up with a PIN #). She didn't even care that she was holding up a line of angry shoppers...so I didn't care when I started shouting out combinations of numbers for her to try...she didn't laugh...but I saw condom guy grin (or twitch...I'm not sure...maybe he was practicing his vibrating skills).

When I finally got out of there...I sat in my car with my sweat freezing to my skin...wondering if there's a switch on that damn vibrating condom & was it strategically placed for optimal pleasure...because that might be a good thing.

Good morning. I'm hoping we all survived Thanksgiving. I tried & maybe succeeded...but I still feel like I'm walking around in a coma-like stupor. Thanksgiving went well. Nothing & no one got broken. The food was plentiful & good (if I do say so myself).

I dared to vary from my mother in law's tried & true Thanksgiving Day menu a slight bit...& she was not entirely happy about the change. She did not eat my breadcrumb stuffed artichokes (I made them my mother's way...my mother is Sicilian...you know...criminals from Southern Italy...mom in law is from Northern Italy...come immagini!) so things are done differently. She said my green beans that I sautéed in olive oil with garlic looked good (but she wanted them covered in cream of mushroom soup, crunchy noodles & boiled within an inch of their lives...I just know she did...yuck).

She also brought canned cranberry sauce into my house. I can not tell you how vile I think this stuff is. Bleck...you spurt it out of the can...then slice it like the slimy jello-looking goooo that it is...then place it on my table? I feel defiled...somehow...that it was served at my house at all...ugh.

It's good to be back.

Help me (hep me)...I'm going under...Thanksgiving is pulling me under...the undertow is strong (there might even be a rip current & swimming parallel to the shore line does not seem to be getting me any closer to safety).

My Mother called me from her car this morning (At 6:30 AM...wake up that way & you wouldn't be cheery either) to ask me if I had a handle on everything involved in my planned festival of food tomorrow. Since she was stuck in traffic on her way into work...she thought she'd just go right ahead & share the joy with me. I took the day off partly to avoid the traffic associated with this day...but I got to revel in the joy of honking horns & frazzled nerves anyway (thanks Mom)...the phone rang:

Chick: Herumph (at 6 AM...you won't get much more from me...although...if you want morning sex...I suggest giving it the ol' college try...you just never know).

Mom: Hi, I'm stuck in traffic, just thought I'd give you a call. Have you gotten everything ready for tomorrow?

Chick: Huh? What's tomorrow?

Mom: Honestly (said in that...annoyed mom voice...I know it well).

Chick: Yes Mom...all systems are go.

Mom: Tell me what you've done & I'll let you know if you forgot anything.

Chick: Mom, it's ok...I don't want you to have to worry about it...leave it to me (as if she only could).

Mom: Well...alright...if you think you've got everything covered (not sounding sure...at all)..

Chick: I think I do (A BIG FAT LIE).

Mom: Blah, blah...(I may have actually dosed off for a minute)...something about her giant coffee being a huge mistake...'cuz now she has to pee (not that proper Mom would ever use the word pee).

Chick: I ask her if she's passed the big lake yet...the one with the waterfall? I say something about all the rain we had last night, I talk about what beverages we'll be having tomorrow...I try to make her laugh (shake that bloated bladder...SHAKE IT)...I tell her what she always used to tell me...don't think about it...

Mom: I have to go find a rest room NOW...

Chick: I hope you make it...

Mom: Click...

Chick: zzzz...

I hope you all have a Happy Thanksgiving & no one drives YOU nuts (or is that too much to hope for?).

Yeah...I suppose every Blogger has written about procrastination at one time or another. I've been meaning to do it for a while now (you can put off laughing at my lameness...for now).

I've got one thousand-seven-hundred-&-thirty-two things I have to do today. Should I get the rope out? Tie you to a chair? MAKE you listen to them all? Oh, you'd be sooo very pissed. The list is going to be long & boring. At the top of the list is clean the rest of the house & you know...make it festive for Thanksgiving. I'm hosting, cooking & trying to make it all look effortless (yeah right). Hubby wants to always have Thanksgiving at our house. It's his fav. holiday (on account of the football, gluttony & general lack of finding the need to get off his arse (did I spell it right?).

I have today & the first half of tomorrow to food shop, clean everything (because I can't ever clean well enough when Mom is coming...when I was a kid...she'd ask me to clean my room...most parents would be happy if their kid made an effort...you know...pick the clothes up off the floor...stay off of drugs...don't let that boy touch you there...wait...back to the cleaning...but my mom used to check for dust by running her fingers over my furniture with white gloves on...a little psychotic? I'm thinking, yeah)...not to mention having to actually cook the damn meal.

OK...who out there does not use Blogging as a major form of procrastination? (Oooh...a link to click on to further put off the pain of doing what I'm supposed to be doing...).

Happy Monday to you all. My weekend started out with a cold hitting me hard right on top of my head. Bang. I felt like Ass (I stole that from a fellow Blogger...don't remember who...but it's a perfect way to describe the way I was feeling...so...thanks). I felt stuffy, achy & moopy...so...what did I do? I drugged myself up & carried on. From then on...I felt loopy & oddly aroused...go figure (I know...you want to know what I took that could turn snot into desire...don't ask me...'cuz it must have been a fluke).

I should have stayed in bed on Saturday, but I couldn’t or wouldn’t (you choose...either one works here). I showered, felt a little better, then went off to the afternoon reception for my friend F. It took me about an hour to get to the gallery...then it was a 10 minute walk from my car to the door. I was still loopy (more drugs...how else can you fight a cold?), so I took a somewhat zig zaggy route to actually get to the door. You just never know what to expect at one of these things. First of all...the gallery was lovely. It was housed in an historic site (one of my pet causes...in case you care)...in a great big old barn that now serves as a gallery. The space was open & flooded with light. I walked through the door & somehow found myself holding a glass of champagne & mingling. The place was crowded & buzzing. I found F’s husband & rudely interrupted the conversation he was having with a well dressed man (when I’m drugged I become quite the interrupter). I deposited some germs on his cheek & said hello. I kept it short & sweet so as not to embarrass myself further...but really...did I care?

I swooped around the room. I love how most galleries hang things in perfect alignment...right at eye level...in a sort of ring around the room...I tried hanging some of my photography in my living room in that sort of style...& it just looks boring...but hey...I get an A for effort, right? Anyway, F’s drawings were beautiful. The delicate lines & soft colors made me see exactly what she was feeling when she created them...they also had a soft, vibrant energy to them that made me smile. (was that pretentious & arty sounding?...if it was...my job here is done).

I finally made eye contact with F. She was surrounded by people & holding bouquets of flowers in her hands. This is the kind of sweet soul that she is. She handed the flowers to someone, excused herself from the group & came over to me &double kissed (European style...she’s from France & other exotic places) me & hugged me American style.

I know it made her so happy that I came to see her show. I wanted to buy a drawing...but I knew she’d give it to me instead...so I didn’t. I left & sloughed my way back home.




My photo does not do justice to how beautiful F's work is...you can see the gallery in the reflection...aren't the windows lovely? This post is kind of long...so I might be done now...

A friend of mine is having an exhibit of her work tomorrow. If I had any guts at all...I'd post the announcement...& let you know where it is...& see if one or two of you show up...& meet you there.

My friend F is truly an artist. Her whole life is lived creatively. When she had no money to furnish her house, she went to Ikea & bought some cheap, unpainted furniture & painted it the most funky colors you could imagine...oranges, yellows, purples...it looks great with her artwork on the walls. She pisses me off too...makes me feel like a lazy bum & that I should get up off my ass...& just get to it...already...damn her. Is that what friends are for?

But alas, as you can see...I wimped out & didn't post the locale...what a yellow belly, fraidy cat I am...today.

I stole (borrowed) my niece's cool shoes...well...she's not actually my niece...she's my first cousin's daughter...but I call her a niece...'cuz if she's a first cousin once removed...the name is just too long...& we could probably swap kidneys...if the need ever came up...& after all...isn't that what really matters?

You can't really get a handle on the unsettling smallness of my feet...or the monster arches I've got in this pic...but trust me...my niece is eleven...& she's pissed that I absconded (my word...not hers) with her shoes...& she can't wait for her feet to grow...so I can't do that anymore...as she says...duh...

OK...remember that job that Hubby didn't get? Turns out there
was a change of heart at HugeMegaColossalPlanetaryGiantCompany. Mr. X.
called saying something about the other guy (it was between Hubby &
some other shlub) being arrogant & that he'd probably not be a good
fit...or some such crap. Again...what the...?! I'm not going to
speculate on the whys of it all...I'm not.

Anyway, Hubby starts right after Thanksgiving. Blammo...jump right in!
This is the first company that he's worked for that actually has a
mission statement...something about...common values, saving the
environment, teamwork & being very, very kind to small kitties. This
should be a fun adventure or a journey into hell...I'm reserving
judgement...for now.

(No...Hubby looks nothing like the dweeb in the picture...& I'm
thanking my lucky stars that he does not have a slick, sickly looking
slug-mustache on his upper lip...that would cause just a little bit of
gagging from me).

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During dinner with friends this weekend...I looked down about halfway through the meal & saw that for the entire time I'd been sitting there...jibber jabbering away...my middle had been exposed due to a missed button. All you could see was pink skin peeking through.

When I when to discreetly fix the situation, I found out that the button had deserted me & The Grand Canyon of opened shirt was not fixable.

I spent the rest of the meal in that pose they arrange corpses in when they are all creepily laid out for viewing at a wake...you know...hands over the abdomen in a completely unnatural way that's supposed to represent peace...or something.

Got any silly, insipid embarrassing moments to share about your weekend with me?

There is a great feast going on @ Friday's Feast...I'm so very hungry today so I needed to join:

Appetizer
If someone made a statue of you, in which pose would you like to be?

What's the...kicking the crap put of someone...pose? Is that a yoga pose? This is a stupid question...

Salad
What perfume/cologne does your best friend wear?

She wears BEAUTIFUL by Estee Lauder...but only when I make her dress up...because she's not usually a dress up kind of a soul.

Soup
Name something satisfying about your work.

Being not only able...but required to do something creative...& by creative I mean everything from problem solving to layouts...to thinking of new ideas...that hopefully will not get the shit kicked out of them (do I have a theme going today...or what?!).

Main Course
What was the last excuse you made, and why did you need to make it?

Sorry that I'm late...but in my defense...ah...fuck it...

Dessert
Complete this sentence: I wonder why _________________.

It's Friday...I wonder why this day took so long to get here. Do you think it was delayed in getting here...by Daylight Saving (look Mike...no "S"...I got it right this time...didn't I...thanks for correcting me on this on my last Daylight SavingS Time post...I'm not an idiot anymore...or so it seems) Time?

Last week I showed you my shower...

...this week...you get my favorite room...the kitchen.

Happy HNT.

...stole this idea from Saucy...just 'cuz he digs a good victimization...from time to time...

Silk pajamas, sleeping like the dead, cream cheese, colorful leaves that I collected like a kid on Saturday morning & pressed in books all over the house, clementines (yum), park benches, getting to know someone...from the inside out, fluffy towels straight from the dryer, long, hot showers that nearly rip my skin off, Radiohead, books about baseball, thank you notes, dead hiring managers, Bloggers without word verification, Avia running shoes, freshly scrubbed floors, rib cracking hugs, apple cake, vanilla candles, silly little boys who play in the mud, football on sunny Sunday afternoons, strappy shoes, cats who purr, chenille blankets, cashmere sweaters that cost way too much, maps, goldfish, frogs, whispers...

Well...Hubby FINALLY called about that job (no puppeteering necessary). He called on Thursday, left a voice mail & ultimately got a call back on Friday. Mr. X. left a particularly winded message about Hubby needing more management experience (something about not being familiar with a specific data-driven approach & methodology for eliminating defects (driving towards six standard deviations between the mean & the nearest specification limit) in any process...from manufacturing to transactional & from product to service... blah, blah, blah...what the?!) I think he'd buy into this insulting, dehumanizing, zero defect crap...if he got paid to...stupid, stupid Mr. X...I hope your karma GETS you! & we actually let him buy us dinner...we broke friggin bread with you...& then...nothing?! That sucks in a big & yucky tasting way...doesn't it?

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Also, someone just told me I looked beat & tired today. What can you say to that? Is the only acceptable answer a quick & sudden blow to the knees? Hell, that would have made me feel better & maybe proven that I wasn't too tired after all.

The weather was perfect for walks in the woods this weekend...so I dragged Hubby on an adventure.



Can you see the cave in this picture? I swore I saw a bear standing in the darkness in the opening of the cave.
Scared the crap out of myself:

Chick: I wouldn't go near that cave for a million bucks...

Hubby: Let's go up there...

Chick: OK...

Do you see a problem here?

I got in the elevator at work yesterday...two girls got in before me. They were chatting...but went to opposite sides of the elevator...forcing moi to get in the middle of their little world. I was coming up from the gym at work & they were coming in from being outside to smoke. They must have spied my gym back...because:

Girl One: We should stop smoking & start walking...

Girl Two: Yeah...but I'd have to start wearing more practical shoes (as she holds up her foot & shows off her giant clunky heels).

Girl One: I wore my ugly practical shoes today (she held up her ugly loafer looking grandma shoes).

Chick: Oh, I've got you beat in the ugly, practical shoe department (I thrust my foot into the middle of the elevator for them both to see...I was wearing a skirt with these shoes...I love 'em...but my bitchy sis tells me they are out of fashion & UGLY).

They looked at me blankly for two whole floors & left the elevator.

What?!?! They sort of pushed me into their conversation by making me stand in the middle...then they didn't want my idiotic input?!

That's the last time I try to be hepful (yeah...I spelled that wrong on purpose...don't you start looking at me funny too)

We bought our house about 2 years ago...I fell in love with the kitchen & the yard...Hubby drooled over the shower in the master bath.

I felt like a reflection of myself...all day yesterday...

Happy HNT.

I had to take the whole day off from work yesterday to travel all the way out to Long Island for a wake. For those of you who've never experienced Long Island traffic...count yourselves among the lucky. You just never, ever know how impossible bad it's going to be. That's what you get when a gazillion & one people live on a long skinny island with few major roadways going in or out of the place. We actually made it under two & a half hours...not bad...considering...

Can you ever really say the right thing at a wake? This was a family friend who died after a long fight against cancer (thanks to some advances benefiting from stem cell research...he gained eight more years on this planet...not to get too political here...but it matters). This man was my father's best friend from first grade & was like an uncle to me. We used to see him & his family a couple times a year or when they'd invite us up to their ski house in PA. His kids wiped the mountain with our butts & we'd call it a day. I haven't seen his kids in at least ten years. I did the whole...huggy...kissy thing...sorry for your loss...blah...blah...all the time hoping that just being there was enough...that's really what matters, right? Because I always smile too brightly & socially at these things & end up just trying desperately not to have to look in the casket...because really...that's just not how I want to remember someone for the last time.

On a lighter note...Mom was in rare form after the wake...talking about this person or that one with the big Long Island hair...as we walked out...she whispered to me...when I die...please...just close the lid, K? Yeah Mom, I could do that for ya, I could.

Who?...what? What day is it? Ever since the time change...on Saturday night...did we fall back...or spring ahead? What time is it...REALLY? My usually fucked up sense of time has been...well...you know...

Hubby STILL has not heard from Mr. X about that job. I asked him to call Mr. X...he said something about..."he should call me"...but I'm over here NEEDING an answer, damn it! & to make matters worse...my mother keeps calling...it goes something like this:

Mom: Did Hubby hear about that job yet?

Chick: No, they haven't called yet...

Mom: Hubby should call them...

Chick: I know!

Mom: Why doesn't he call? Why doesn't he call? Why doesn't he call? Why doesn't he call?! (Her single mindedness amazes me, while bugging the shit out of me at the same time).

Chick: I know...I wish he'd stop being stubborn & call already too...

Mom: Is he going to call?

Chick: Listen Mom, if I had the ability to stick my hand up Hubby's asshole & make him into my puppet...I would...but I can't...so stop asking me! (if I actually said that to my mother...she wouldn't like it one fucking bit...I never speak to good ol' mom that way...ever...her sensitive, proper ears just might fall off if I did...so, instead, I am forced to DEAL with the incessant STRESS that her babble adds to my life).

Happy Tuesday...it IS Tuesday...right?

I wrote this post on Friday night. Want to know why I was home on a Friday night writing this? It's not that interesting...I'm actually boring myself at the moment (while I'm writing this). So if you walk away in dismay...I'll understand without question.

Here goes nothing (literally). I had the good fortune to work from home all day on Friday. It was a day long party of pajama wearing while being chained to my computer & the fun didn't stop there...I found the time to clean out exactly one quarter of my closet (you should have seen some of the cruel things I found in there...really...what was I thinking when I bought a pair of flared out capri pants complete with cuffs?...Was I going for the whole...fat legged-midget look again?...Was I?).

I ended up taking a shower late in the day & putting on clean pj's at 7 PM. Did that seal my staying home fate? By the time Hubby barged his way through the door (I only say barged 'cuz I'd been at home alone all day with my trusty cat & our solitude was broken the exact minute he slammed the door open) he found me violently chopping the life out of the last of the garden's basil (hands down...one of the best smells in the world...am I alone in loving it?) The pj/basil thing must have thrown him 'cuz he just stood there with a blank look on his face. I gave him my best...what's your problem, asshole...face & he disappeared upstairs. Ain't love grande?

Hubby bounded down the stairs like a puppy dog...in his sweats...with such happiness because it looked like I wasn't going to try to drag his...I just want to stay home once in a while...ass anywhere that he did not want to go.

I stuffed him with pesto (I actually did a bang up job making it...sometimes it comes out a little bit dry...but not this time) & pasta & was promptly rewarded by the sound of snoring coming from my favorite overstuffed chair & it was all of NINE THIRTY.