THINGS I DID THIS WEEKEND

No one really gets to celebrate their actual birthday if it lands on a work week until the weekend. And celebrate we did. We met Amy Saturday morning and headed out to the Home and Garden Show. Yeah, that's right. We went to the Home and Garden Show for my birthday. Because I'm old and I like things like fences and rain chains and saunas. But it wasn't all pools and landscaping. I watched this woman make flowers from clay and I bought my Amelia Earhart hat. We tasted wine and contemplated the purchase of gecko's toes. By this time we were starving and on sensory overload, so we dragged Amy to Pachinko Parlor to force feed her a Killer Tofu Roll. She horked it down all right and refreshed we headed out to some junk shops and thrift stores and I bought a white scarf to go with my Amelia hat for a whole dollar. After wandering around a few more shops, we headed over to Zamzam's Hookah Bar where we were waited on by a very young Adam Sandler/Harpo Marx and ate really good Mediterranean food. Then Chris and I smoked on a hookah because we had never done this and it was blueberry minty.

Finally we headed over to some friends house for cake. Audra made the cutest cake with the cutest little elephant on it that I named Mortamina. I was told that strawberry cake was not a possibility being that strawberries just aren't in season right now. I was just fine with the possibility of a German Chocolate cake. But I noticed the edge of the knife turning pink as Misti sliced into the cake and started to say something when Misti gave me that sly look of hers. I couldn't help it. Tears welled up in my eyes over strawberry cake. My day was full. Full of childhood strawberry cake, friends, and laughter and so much love. Thank you.

WEEK THREE OR SOMETHING

OK, I realize that today should be an update on the Yoga Body Diet. Things are going well. I eat whole lot of food at lunch and I'm not ready to eat my fingers off by the time I get home in the evenings. This is actually the most important thing. Usually, I am starving, as in Chris Farley starving, by the end of my work day (after teaching class and what not). I'm usually so hungry that I don't want to cook; I just want to eat and consume it in two point six minutes. It also leads to me eating way too much food right before my bedtime. The new plan is working out a bit better. I'm not as hungry by the time I get home and cooking supper is easier. Plus I make enough to put away for lunch the next day. I still feel like I'm eating way too much food at lunch time, but I don't feel like I need to eat something between lunch and supper any more. I plan on sticking to this way of eating even when the four weeks is up.

So week three....Yeah, through the chaos of putting together a surprise birthday party for my mom, I never managed to read up on what is expected of us in week three. I think this the part where they expect us to do lots of yoga and do poses that benefit your dosha. I think this is the part of the diet where we start to slide a bit. I already do lots of yoga and I know that my personal practice is just savasana. I also know that I need to be squeezing in this practice more than twice a week. If only we could add an hour to the day.

FINISHING PROJECTS

I tend to be one of those people that finishes projects (with the exception of socks), so I'm not really surprised that I actually finished my 365 day project on Flickr. I took on a second year of 365 day in hopes that I would be more creative and learn a little bit more about my camera and what not. I learned nothing. No, just kidding. I did learn a bit about lighting and ISO settings and I did have a few creative shots. But you know what? It's exhausting. Being creative. Every. Single. Day. I think at one point Chris told me that he was going to have me a T-shirt made that read "I have not taken my picture today" because he'd heard me say it so many times. There were too many days where I felt uninspired, fat, ugly, or just pure lazy. Then there were the days where I had great ideas but the weather refused to cooperate. But in between all those other days, where some pretty good ones.

The first year of the 365 day project taught me to look at myself a bit differently. The second year has taught me to look at the things around me a bit differently. Some of my best images where the ones taken outside amidst the buildings and graffiti of the city. It's taught me to look for the unexpected in the expected. These lessons have been the most valuable.

RANDOM MESSAGES FROM THE UNIVERSE

The day before yesterday, I found a bejeweled encrusted crucifix right outside the door of the V.A. Hospital. I turned into the E.R. receptionist. Last night in yoga class, I wandered around the room giving instructions. When I came back to my mat, I found a little diamond. I turned this into the front desk. Later, I told Chris that I thought the universe was trying to tell me something, but I couldn't figure it out. He said "Yeah. It's saying stop giving jewelry away".

CAR RIDE CONVERSATIONS

Chris: "What's wrong?" Me: "Nothing. I'm just thinking."

Chris: "About what?"

Cindy: "Blog entries and things for the next year."

Short pause.

Cindy: "I'm also really upset with Lindsey Lohan for attacking that lady at the Betty Ford Clinic."

Chris: "Lindsey Lohan. What the Hell happened to that girl."

Cindy: Shakes head in disappointment.

I'M MAD. NOT CRAZY.

When I first started reading The Help by Kathryn Stockett, I was soothed by the flow of the words and the accents I could hear clearly in my head. I could feel the heat of the summers, remembering that time JaNell and I had to stay with Aunt Martha on her rabbit farm. Mom had forgotten to send the suitcase key with us and we couldn't get to our clothes. For four days, we ran around barefoot in our slips like little country hillbilly children. But, as I continued to read, a slow burning started at the pit of my stomach, slowly working it's way into a full blown rage. On the way home, I told Chris that I needed to hurry up and finish this book. I told him that the more I read, the angrier I got. Don't get me wrong, it's an amazing book. Beautiful, really. But it's easy to see it as nonfiction. I know those rich white ladies. We all know them. And I'll tell you what made me the angriest of angries about reading this book. The hatefulness of some of rich white white ladies. Not just the way they treated their maids, but the way they treated each other.

Woman are the worst of all. Ladies, we've all experienced that cattiness, that snub over some ridiculous thing. It's the very same reason why I abhor those reality TV shows about the Desperate Housewives of Stupid. It teaches women that it's OK to behave that way, to treat people that way. Ladies this shit is passed from woman to girl over generations and generations. I remember my own mother with hurt feelings over being slighted over some Woman's Club thingy and I can also remember her turning around and doing the same to another woman. I have a friend who is being a stay-at-home mom right now. She's having the hardest time making any other mommy friends because when she tells them she's originally from Canada, they say "that's nice" and then never speak to her again. Really? Really people?!?!? Who in their right minds could ever believe that it's OK to treat people so rudely or be so mean.

And Ladies? You of all people should know better. Things are hard enough as it is without us all attacking each other. So, right here, and right now. That shit ends. You hear me? It ends now. Those of you who read this blog? You pass it on. You pass it on to the girls next door. You pass it on to your daughters. You tell them. "You is kind. You is beautiful. You is smart". You tell them they are no better or no worse than that little girl over there with different colored hair or skin or what ever. Turn off the Desperate Housewives of Stupid. Stop reading the tabloids. Tell that woman who elbowed her way ahead of you in the check out line to have the most wonderful day. Do it.

Wow. I'm really glad I'm finished with that book.

Batesville

A long time ago Chris and I were headed out on a road trip when we passed a Batesville Casket Company truck. Normally, people would see this as a bad omen. But Chris and I are sick people and we took the sighting as a good sign, that the trip ahead was going to be fantastic. Ever since then the Batesville Casket Company has been our lucky charm. It's been a while since we've seen one though. On Saturday, as we were making our way to the Farmer's Market, I saw a small Batesville Casket Company truck pass us heading in the other direction. I looked at Chris and said that today was going to be a good day. And it was a great day! We went to the Farmer's Market. We went to the Deluxe Craft Bizarre. I bought a couple of beautiful charms by the most talented and awesome Haley Luna. We had a good lunch. We tooled around Blue 7. We went to our favorite Tea House that we always forget to go to. We ordered Christmas shrimp. We bought booze. We took home a pizza from the newly re-opened Sauced. We finished the Christmas cards!

Then, I woke up this morning around 6:15 AM, the time I'm usually sitting down for meditation. Apparently there was an alarm clock malfunction. Now Manic Monday by the Bangles is playing in my head.

HORSES, HORSES, HORSES

I think it's been a while since I've had this feeling about the holidays. In fact, it's been so long, that I'm finding a hard time naming that feeling. We picked up a Christmas CD over the weekend (T insisted) and it has Christmas songs on it by The Pretenders, Willa Ford, and The Ramones. But the one we play over and over and over is Someday at Christmas by Remy Zero. It feeds into the mixed up emotions that I have over this holiday season.

The other night, when I hung Babar on the tree, I couldn't help it. The tears just came and spilled over. It's been so long since we'd put up a tree, so long since we'd done something so homey. We've never moved past the "this is temporary" phase of living with Chris's Mom, which is good, because it is temporary. But it's hard. Most of our things are in storage and I still tip-toe around the kitchen. I miss things. I miss my plates and dishes that my mother made us. I miss my pots and pans. I miss knowing where things are and not having to go on treasure hunts to find kitchen gadgets that randomly disappear. I miss the normalcy of having a home, a home of our own. Putting up that tree helped a wee bit in that department.

This time of year, I always feel like a rambley bundle of emotions. I still feel that child like wonder at seeing all the Christmas lights. I get giddy at singing along with the Christmas songs on the radio. But it's all mixed up with moments of sad and a bit of regret. Last night on the way home the words "I miss J" clearly danced through my brain and then floated away. Then we stopped and picked up our Christmas Cards and I was all giddy and happy and excited. It's like a roller coaster. I'm a mixed bag of contentment in my present moment and disgruntlement at where I am in my present moment.

Maybe I'll make that my mantra for this month.

PAUL AND JULIA CHILD AKA CHRIS AND CINDY MADDERA

I've been reading My Life in France, Julia Child's memoir and it's been such a delight, even though it's taking me forever to get through it. I just don't have the time to read any more and most of my reading happens during those snippets of time between timers and tasks. But every time I pick it up, it makes me happy and a little sad. It makes me a bit sad because I know in my heart of hearts that Chris and I were meant to be best friends with Paul and Julia. We just have (had) too much in common from the way our relationship works right down to our politics. They even had their home built in France with separate bedrooms because he was insomniac and she snored. They put a king-sized bed in one of the bedrooms for "snugly" time, something Chris and I plan to do when we have a home of our own. There is always a horrified gasp from people whenever Chris and I disclose that we don't share a bedroom. Well...that's not true. We do share a bedroom, just not for sleeping. Chris and I are just incompatible sleepers. We've tried it. Actually, we've fought with it. It's a miracle either of us survived the night with out broken ribs or black eyes. I remember one night where I actually laid a pillow across Chris's face. I didn't hold it down; I just gently laid it across his face and then quickly laid over on my side thinking he wouldn't notice that I did it. I love him, but when we try to actually sleep together, I want to kill him. I just don't see that as being very healthy to a relationship. And it's sleeping. What are we going to miss while we're unconscious?

The part I don't like about it is that right now, Chris is sleeping on the couch. We have plans to change this (it will happen!).

BLAHBLUBDEBLAH

Well, would you look at that. Take away a list and turns out that I have nothing much to blog about. I swear, I was just staring at that last sentence for 20 minutes trying to think up something else to say. Actually, I do have question for the internet world and there's a story that leads into that question. Sunday, Chris and I stopped into Forward Foods to pick up a Thanksgiving Froast except they were fresh out. OUT. OF. FROAST! And I thought I was the only one who ate those things. I asked the guy behind the counter if they might be getting some extra ones in any time before Thursday which leads to him calling the Norman store and this is when I notice that the man's pants are unzipped. Like all the way unzipped and I can tell you that he was wearing whitish boxers. I quickly looked away from his crotch (I shouldn't have been looking there in the first place even though it was practically at eye level, I mean the guy is tall and elevated behind the counter....so....) and continued on with the conversation as if nothing was amiss. I felt kind of bad for the guy though. Here he was walking around with his fly undone and his underwear showing. I whispered something to Chris about asking if maybe we should tell him and Chris was all "Nah". But then as we left I started to feel guilty (not too guilty, 'cause that guy never delivered on my Froast). It reminded of the time I sat behind this older lady in class and she had gigantic spider trapped in her beehive hairdo and I did nothing (mostly because I was immobilized by my fear of spiders). I should have done something. I have guilt issues.

Anyway, people, what would you do in this situation? Keep quiet and ignore the elephant in the room? Speak up and tell the guy his barn door is open? Is there a tactful way of telling a complete stranger their fly is down with out embarrassing both of you? Am I being punished for not telling him that his pants were unzipped and that's why I'm not getting a Froast?

This entry brought to you by cold medicine.

PHOTOCASTROPHE

I feel like this weekend was a photography failure on my part. I entered the weekend already a little down and tired of my 365 day project. Lately I've been too busy and worn out to really plan and set up anything decent for the project and usually it's a last minute hold-the-camera-in-front-of-face picture. That was not the intention of the project. The project was supposed to get me to be a bit more creative every day and learn to use my camera. I've let life get in the way of that (hey, I'm no supergirl). All weekend I carted the camera around taking mediocre pictures of the Greek Festival and the Ghoul's Gone Wild Parade. I even did a little online reading on ways to set up the camera for night parades and flash settings. It just wasn't clicking for me. I was torn between just putting the camera down and enjoying the show and taking an amazing really cool totally awesome picture. Which brings me to something I read on Maggie Mason's site once, something about being a participator instead of a spectator. Basically? Putting the camera down. I love that parade, but I really put it all in jeopardy by focusing too hard on getting good pictures and I know I didn't enjoy it as much as I could have. Instead I let myself get annoyed with the street sign that ended up being in my way, the auto focus or my measly little flash. I lost site of the real reason for having that camera for me. It's not because I fancy myself to be some great photographer or even want to be. That camera is for capturing those moments that matter in my life. It's about the story behind each one. When I got home and started editing my photos, I know I trashed more then half of them. The ones I did keep are not even that great.

What I learned is that experiencing the event trumps taking photos any day and that's why I am not a photographer. I learned that the best pictures I take are the ones where I don't have to try so hard. I learned the photos of things and people that you truly love are the photos that turn out the best.