Flapper monkey

I had a wonderful dream the other night of a happy little monkey. He had a coconut for a head with white painted eyes and smile. His limbs moved like one of those toys were you push the base with your thumb and the animal collapses, and he was happily doing the Charleston.

Old coat

I went to the thrift store the other day, in search of a winter coat, hoping to find one that looks nice and is well.. thrifty. A girl has to have a budget these days.

So I made what I thought was a good purchase. It's a tan colored corduroy coat with a white fuzzy collar. Okay so it is a boys coat, but all the girl coats were too big or too tiny or in some crazy print that made me dizzy when I looked at it. I have a hard enough time walking as it is, I don't need a coat making me dizzy there by increasing my fall potential. So I handed the cashier my $5 and out the door I went, fluffy boy coat in hand.

When I got home I tried on my coat again, it was a little big, but it was warm. I modeled it for Marco, "How lame do I look?" pause while I look at his face "Wait don't answer that!" Laughter.
"Good call," he said. As I was walking to the mirror to take a second look Marco so kindly informs me "Uh, did you know there is a stain on the back?" "What?" (dang that dim thrift store lighting) "What does it look like?" I hear more laughter from the peanut gallery, "Giz!" (nice technical term I know) "What!?" I turned to check it out for myself "Oh my god! I'm freaking Monica Lewinsky??" "Well just tell people it's bleach!" "It is bleach!" "Well then don't worry about it."

Easy for him to say. I tried not to worry about it, but I did. I shouldn't be allowed to purchase clothing from the thrift store without supervision, and the Monica coat... it keeps my bar stool nice and warm.

So now what?

"No no no, this is perfectly normal, your skin is supposed to be falling off. See if you have no skin then you have no wrinkles." I laughed trying to soothe this poor sobbing woman desperate to be young again. So desperate that she would let me put acid on her face, she would let me burn her face with a laser, she would let me inject a toxin into her muscles, she would spend any amount of money to obtain beauty while her bills piled up. She actually told me that should could not pay her mortgage that month and in the next breath she asked, "Do you have any cream to help the dark circles under my eyes?" I suggest paying your bills and getting a good night sleep, or you can buy this $100 cream that might work. There she was looking to me for a miracle and all I could do was soothe her with false platitudes and expensive procedures.

Hearing those words from my lips woke me up. I hated my job! But I was making good money, so now what?

Feeling Blue?

Try a hula hoop!

I am hula hooping on the median of Granby street, next to the lady that started hula hooping on the median of Granby street. I am smiling and laughing. She looks me in the eye, smiles and says "Fun isn't it?" "Yes!"

"I don't even know your name," I say to her. "I make food not stick, I'm Pam, feel my abs." I feel her abs, they are hard as a watermelon with flesh. "Feel my shoulder, it has pins in it," she tells me as she grabs my hand, places it on her shoulder and makes her shoulder pop in and out. "This is as far as my arms go behind my back," she demonstrates, her hands don't touch behind her back, no way for handcuffs to be applied. "They forced them on me," she continues to tell me how she was forcefully arrested a few weeks ago.

Arrested and tazed, the happy hula hoop lady on Granby street. Doesn't make sense to me. Pam was in a car accident 30 years ago on prom night. She suffered brain damage. The doctors said she would never walk or talk again. She is walking. She is talking. Most days she is hula hooping on the median of Granby street.

People driving by are honking and waving. I know all the days I have driven past Pam, I have smiled, sometimes waved. This time I drove by feeling blue and saw lots of hula hoopers, I smiled. I made a u turn, parked, grabbed my favorite red camera and started snapping pictures. That is when Fame a young man from Balitmore said "Come on just grab a hoop!" So I grabbed a hoop. Fame and I laughed as it took me a few trys to remember how to hula hoop. "This is my first day hula hooping," Fame laughed some more.

Fame told me that he and his friend Noel drove all the way from Baltimore to be here. They heard Pam's story and decided to come join the rebel Granby street hula hooper. We didn't talk much after that, we just laughed and hooped. The sun was shining a beautiful Saturday afternoon.

Hula hooping on the median of Granby street. Happiness.

Photos of the week.

A few of you know that I am taking a photography class. Well I am going to post my weekly photo assignment for your ocular enjoyment. Tell me what you think. (Also if you know an easier way to upload more than one photo at a time that tell me that too. I've been here for an hour and I'm going to kick this computer across the room soon. It never listens to me!)

Last weeks assignment was black and white. I've added some of the color versions for comparison.

wascally waccoon

A few months ago, I dreamt that the raccoons in the abandoned house next door to me renovated a house and sold it to D and I. People scoffed saying rational things like "A, raccoons are too A.D.D. to tile a bathroom!"
Well what about a few water damaged pieces of laminate floor? If he can find ways to enter the house next door surely his little paws can fix a few bubbles. I will pay him in garbage. In fact I think more animals should get into the construction business. Low cost housing, less pollution, and they would provide hours of entertainment.
So at any rate, after six long months of either not having a camera or not being fast enough, I finally caught one on film. Happiness.