Something is in the fall air...

As noted in my previous entry, I have undertaken changes to incorporate more walking  -both for leisure and for errands - into my daily life. Over the summer, I read an article about natural deodorants. It was quite a scintillating -or perhaps scentillating? -topic. I've been doing some research and walked today to The Vitamin Shoppe in my neighborhood to pick up some organic stink-fighters for myself. I've tried the Tom's of Maine and the crystal types in the past with little success, so I'm hoping that these new formulations do the trick.

On a related note, today I am expecting a delivery of a new juicer I got on sale, so that I can integrate more vegetables and fruits into my family's diet.

An hour ago, I cut up some veggies for tonight's dinner and rather than throw the peelings in the trash, I gathered them up and hauled them to the mulch/compost pile in the backyard.

Then I went out to my pond and picked out some of the leaves and thought to myself in a self-congratulatory manner, how well my strategies for keeping the pond healthy (proper levels of bacteria, gasses, PH level, survival of various plant & animal species,etc.) without using chemicals have gone for the past 18 months.

I just got an email from my pastor inviting me and others on parish council to attend a workshop at a local Lutheran congreation on "greening your congregation" and "the stewarship of creation" (i.e. - environmentalism) as its an undertaking he'd like to see my stewardship committee explore.

Coincidence? I don't think so.

Inspired by the fitness and lifestyle changes made by some friends and fellow bloggers, I have augmented my workout routines with daily walks around the neighborhood. The walks usually last from 35-45 minutes.

I always have loved walking. In high school, I walked to and from campus each day as there was no bus for my neighborhood. In college I (unintentionally) shed 20 lbs walking each afternoon after class and before dinner, and when I lived in the city, I walked to the market, shops and restaurants, yoga class,  and local watering holes. Considering I didn't get my license until I was 22, it was not merely a choice but a necessity.

In my suburban neighborhood, there is a shopping center within decent walking distance (about 1 mile away) that houses a Trader Joes, Pet Smart, Barnes & Noble, Panera, Vitamin Shoppe and more. Across the street is a European-style market with wonderful produce and deli departments. Since my around-town '98 Ford Taurus is having "issues" - brakes are going again, turn signal doesn't work, fuel injectors are clogged - and since gas prices are so crazy, I decided to invest in a new set of wheels. It has all the bells and whistles, including a retractible soft-top. No it's not a Chrysler Sebring... Check it out:

I have to link together two thoughts that are just fated to be a couple.

Miss Ginger recently reminded some of us in internetland of the intrigue of high-cut leotards vis-a-vis a video clip of classics from none other than the Solid Gold Dancers.

After watching said clip (posted for your convenience, below) I was reminded of a joke from The Gong Show uttered by the always-outrageous Jaye P. Morgan after witnessing an act in which a woman in a leotard did a handstand while spreading her legs open in a straddle.

When asked to offer her assessment of the "performance," Jaye P. responded, "She looks like she's ready to play stoop tag in the asparagus patch!"

I have no idea why she let me watch the show with her, but after that ribaldry, my mom was howling with laughter. And of course, that vulgar (and positively perfect) remark has been etched in my brain ever since.

Think of asparagus as you watch these professional slinksters do their thang (especially the choregraphy to Blondie's "Rapture"):

As promised, hubby took our lil' house from dull, peeling beige to blue and white with glossy black doors. Next spring, with improved landscaping (the "pickles" will be banished!) and lots of impatiens and geraniums in planters on the deck in vibrant reds and pinks, I think it will look really great.

(Yes, he did overspray some of the lower level masonry; that will get repainted white in spring.) My guy is pretty damn handy, huh?

Postscript: this is our PRIMARY home - in the Chciago 'burbs. It's an old farmhouse/cottage from the 1930's...out lot is 1/3 acre which is nice, considering that all around us are cookie-cutter subdivisions with postage-stamp size lots. It DOES look like a vacation cottage, though, now that Abby mentioned it...

PPS: The "pickles" are the jokey name we have for the upright arborvitae - evergreen bushes - clearly evident on the pic of the front view of the house. Click on the pick and you will see a row of bushes in front of the house. They block the deck and are all mis-shapen and...just kinda ugly. They don't "work" well with the cottage look. They just look like a lame attempt to hide the house from the busy street.

The Backyard Cam is back. Yeaaaahhh. Check it.

If I haven't mentioned it before, my husband is employed as a Data Architect...and no, his job is totally unlike Mike Brady's day at the office. Essentially he is an Orcale wonk (although he uses other products at times, as well.) We joke that he's a Whore-acle. If he was stuck in meetings, his day was a Bore-acle Snore-acle.

Meanwhile, I stay home and scrub the floor-acle.

But anyway...

This year he will be attending the massive Oracle Open World event in San Francisco; its basically an oversized, over-the-top corporate trade show. My first question was, "Ohmigod, is Larry (Ellison) going to be there?"

When people think of computer nerd success stories, they often cite Bill Gates. But Bill (as far as I know) doesn't skulk around in Kimonos, sail one of the world's largest yachts (gag-o-phonically named "The Rising Sun), and fashion his home to look like a Samuri palace.

Yes, Ellison and Michael Dell are giving keynote speeches to the khaki-clad masses at the Moscone Center; but there will also be scheduled FUN times!

One of these is a concert featuring a schitzophrenic lineup of: BIlly Joel, Prince, and Stevie Nicks!

The opening night party has a 70's theme...but I doubt highly that any attendees plan to trade in their polo shirts for leisure suits.

The final party features "our favorite indie rock band, The Five Hundreds."  I'm thinking of some of MY favorite "indie rock bands" but I can't imagine any of them playing a corporate convention set - or even securing such a gig in the first place.

Since I typically pack hubby's suitcases for his travels, I'm considering tossing in a gift he received from co-workers when he was in Asia: a Kamikaze headband. I'll dare him to wear it to the keynote, and at inappropriate moments, yell out, "Banzai!"

This evening, as I readied myself to go to Target for some diversionary candle-sniffing, I inadvertenly thought of the always-amusing Jim Gaffigan and his "hot pocket" routine. After an hour of aisle-gazing and cart-filling, I ambled to the checkout. As I thumped my bottles of Downy and Diet Lipton Citrus Green Tea on the conveyor belt, a teenager behind me sheepishly help up a dvd and asked his mom, "Can we get this? He is so funny."

Mom glanced at the dvd and then broke into a smile. "Oh sure. He is funny. In a way he reminds me of George Carlin."

At that point I looked away from the bags of laundry items I was about to buy, glanced at the dvd, and silently gushed with glee as I heard the teen boy remark, "Yeah, he's funny. Have you ever heard him do 'Hot Pockets?'"

For your enjoyment, here is Jim Gaffigan and his signature (apparently) routine:

We are repainting the Mr. & Mrs. Brandy101 Illinois cottage and garage (shed) for your viewing pleasure. Thus, the garage-mounted backyard cam will be out of service until further notice.

Thank you for your patience!

(I promise to post some before and after pics sometime soon, including the yecchy arborvitae/pickles in the front of the house!)

I remarked to my husband, "I know why your people drink - your songs are so sad!"

I have attended quite a few funerals within the past few years and for some reason, the music I chose today really made me tear up, despite the fact that the circumstances of Katie's death were not at all tragic - she was 95, literally died of old age, and had been praying for some time to "go home to Jesus." In contrast to the elderly population of her nursing home neighbors who comprised much of the congregation, the priest saying Mass was quite young. It is probably his youth that allowed him to say Mass in the most "religious" and spiritually engaged way I ever witnessed - meaning, he is not (yet) jaded and merely going through the motions. He closed his eyes at times during various prayers, swayed, knelt on the altar in reverence...he just seemed so HOLY, it was wonderful and moving to experience. He was even kind enough to accompany us to the cemetary, even though in these modern times with shortages of priests, usally the graveside blessing is done by a funeral director or lay (non-clergy) minister.

I pretty much lost it during the popular commital hymn, "In Paradisum" (which is played to the tune of "Danny Boy"  and thus is so clearly identified with the Irish.) This is the time when, after Mass, the priest cleanses the casket with incense and we say our final "goodbye" to the deceased. The lyrics in English are as follows; and it is not so much the words, but the nostaligia that accompanies the song due to its familiarity to many.


As Katie would say, "God love ya'."

From Halloween to Church theatre productions, I have creatively dressed others, and have been proudly perfecting that talent over the past few years. Yesterday, by default, I was assigned the "ultimate" dressing job: shopping for an ensemble for a dead woman to wear in her coffin!

Over the weekend, the 95-year-old cousin of my husband's grandmother passed away. My husband served as her trustee, and beyond paying her bills and other duties, he made a point of visiting her weekly in the nursing home, hoping to provide some comfort and companionship.

 Katie was from "the old country" and spoke with a charming Irish brogue until the day she died. My only recollections of her were from occasional extended-family gatherings, where she'd be certain to utter "God luv ya'" in place of "thank you" – especially after a few rounds of Vodka on the rocks. I first met her when my husband and I began dating and I was introduced to his Dad's side of the family in their Northside Chicago enclave. Despite a mild-mannered appearance, Katie broke into an impromptu chant of the "Great Amen" and seemed annoyed that no one joined in with her…so she switched to an "Alleluia!" hoping to get a more enthused response. No one took the cues, although each of us attending to her drink orders made certain to water them down considerably.

At the time, widowed and more or less alone in the world save for these distant relatives, she resided in a senior citizen apartment complex in Des Plaines – across the street from what was an exceptionally cheesy singles bar with a Key West theme.

I found it amusing when this frail, elderly Irish gal explained to me that each afternoon she'd somehow make her way, cane in hand, over to the raucous bar for happy hour. This nightclub was called "Lime Rickey's" but she referred to it as "THE Lime Rickeys," as in, "You know, dear, I go to The Lime Rickeys."

Fast forward to yesterday. I headed to a local department store to find a sedate yet tiny dress or suit to clothe Katie for her wake. She was very tiny when she passed away so I contemplated child's size as I thought even a 2 petite would be too large. I knew she didn't wear bold colors, so I considered that black really might not have been her choice. In the junior's department I spied a basic tan knee-length skirt in a size 1 – perfect! All I needed was to coordinate a jacket or even a nice blouse. While still in the teenage-oriented juniors department, something drew my eye to a top that made me giggle aloud: a fitted tee with large Playboy logo on the chest! I thought, that might have been appropriate for her "Lime Rickey's" days… but it wasn't exactly the statement she would want to make in the wake chapel.

Frustrated with the loudly-printed and boobaliciously low-cut tops in the juniors department, I moved on to petites, a.k.a. the Old Lady department. I hit paydirt: hidden amongst the appliquéd sweatshirts was a sweet fitted blazer in a tan tweed and a knit sleeveless shell for underneath, both of which coordinated beautifully with the skirt. For "foundations" I chose  a full slip in the smallest size I could find and some pantyhose. I knew I had some conservative black pumps in my attic to donate to the cause, as well as an extra strand of faux pearls for a ladylike effect.

I know that the funeral home who is handling her "preparation" does fantastic work with hair and makeup; I hope my wardrobe selections match up to their artistry.