Applebees didn't pay me to write this post...a few open letters

Dear Applebees,

OMG! I drink a lot of iced tea, year round. And I have not had iced tea that good in a very long time. I must have the recipe...

Also, you had me at hello when the bathroom stall had a purse hook (what is it with bathroom stalls these days? Did a hook pirate come and steal them all??)

THEN, there was a door to the outdoors right by the ladies room, such that I didn't have to go back to the front where throngs were waiting with their dates for tables.

I'll be back. For the tea.

Yours,

SL

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Dear Pittsburgh,

You have stolen my heart. You know that, right? They say TCK's are of two kinds--one kind spreads shallow roots all over the place. A big wind, and they move to the next place, like a tumbleweed. Then there are the "me" type--we grow a tap root that goes all the way down. So here's the thing. You have offered up some opportunities. I need one of them to come through. You know that I will want again to be closer to family, and you may someday have to concede to my love for the beach. But for now, you are playing all your cards, with community, mentors, friends, and your trump card, geography. You know that I love that there are five ways to get to any one place. You know that I love walking mornings in Highland Park. You know that I hate moving. You might win this time. I might let you. Do me a favor, though? Start working on getting me a better paying job, and start looking for a beau. I like them tall and Christian. I don't need it to be right now (you know I have enough going on right now) but you know, in the next decade or so...

Yours, till Niagara Falls,

SL

***********

Dear body,

WHY? Do I not feed you well? That you must betray me monthly with the aches that remind me I could be making babies? Isn't there an on/off button? I'm not interested in having babies right now, can we dispense with the pain? PLE-ASE??? You know what I'm talking about.

I'm watching you...

SL, who is allergic to Advil, Pamprin, and all NSAIDS, including Aspirin.

*************

And one last peeve.

I don't know how to make it into an open letter. I am grateful for people who have THEIR picture as their Facebook profile. Hey, if you have a kid, sure, have a picture of the child in your profile picture. But don't put THEIR picture as your profile picture--are you them? Are they you? And what is the deal with wedding pictures? I'm glad you got married. But I don't really need to see your wedding dress every time I pull up your profile.

Signed,

A trying-so-very-hard
and-not-succeeding-to-not-be-peevish
single-childless-36-year-old woman.

*************

A woman at work this week said, that Sarah Louise, I've never seen her get upset at anyone. Humph, I giggled inside. She doesn't know me well enough. But it's nice to be thought of nicely.

Okay, I think I'm done being snarky. Here's a story about butterflies, and when I let them go yesterday at the Picture Book Picnic (our library's summer storytime.)

We set free our five Painted Lady butterflies yesterday. I did a storytime with The Very Hungry Caterpillar, The Relatives came (love Cynthia Rylant), First the Egg, and Waiting for Wings (Ehlert, very good factual info at end about butterflies). At the end, I opened the house and three went right away. The fourth one had to be coaxed, and the fifth wanted to stay on the flower we had in the house, so I lifted the flower out and it finally flew. We didn't take pictures, but it was one of those moments that you really couldn't capture on film. I will never forget it, and I bet the kids that huddled around me won't forget it, either.

Go hug someone. Or a pillow. Smile, it makes people wonder what you're up to. And I'll be here all week. (And all weekend--I have tomorrow OFF!)

Call me Mara...* (Edition 3.5)

Okay, I am almost at the point of bitterness here.

Which may seem surprising, since I was so upbeat last post.

Well, I still have this cold, I still don't have a car, I'm still paying $200 a week for a rental until I get one of my own. (And then I'll have a car payment, but at least it won't be WEEKLY.)

I don't have a working VCR or DVD player (and hello, movies and TV reruns on DVD are my drug of choice main comfort source?)

I have given myself 7 minutes to blog b/c I have to haul myself to work. I'm sick of working every Saturday. And I'll be working at least part of every Monday until Christmas to obliterate my "negative comp time." I would rather take a cut in pay!! (and that's saying a lot, see above.)

One of bobbie's blogger friends, Anj, has a blog called best/worst. So you just got my worst. Lemme see if I can come up with some "bests" before my chicken time clock runs out.

Well, I have less than two minutes:

Last night when Max came home, he woke me out of my Ben & Jerry's induced stupor. I had NOT taken my bedtime pills, and he reminded me to do so (which I did) and then I called him back and said, "can I come down for a hug?" I'm sure I looked like the bride of Frankenstein, hair falling out of my ponytail, pillow marks on my face, but he gave me a hug nonetheless.

It's fall here. I think our Indian Summer is over. Last night, coming out of work, was just like the foliage looked on the day I had my interview, five years ago. I remember thinking, I could like working here. And part of that thought was based only on the beautiful foliage.

Well, the chicken just rang, but I'll tell you one more. I'm reading a wonderful book called Alison's Automotive Repair Manual. (The US hardcover cover picture is more fun than the paperback.) (And it's the one I'm reading.) It's about a widow who decides that before she gets her life in order, she has to fix the sports car that is in her brother-in-law's garage. Each chapter starts off with a quote from the Haynes Automotive Repair Manual: Chevrolet Corvette, 1968 through 1982. I'm a little over halfway through. One of the characters I love (besides Alison) is her new beau, Max (well, I'm sort of attached to that name, but still): a guy who blows things up for a living. (He's a munitions guy.) The theme song for this book could be "Don't fall in love with a dreamer**," since that's what her late husband was, and she is faced with her brother-in-law who nails pomegranetes to the house for fertility, and Max's dad, who has the whole town convinced that when they drain the town's lake they're going to find a car that he escaped from as it sank to the bottom. The theme of truth telling and dreaming your dream, no matter how much it costs, run through this book. I'm a little more than half way through (blame it on not having a VCR or DVD player.)

Well, it is now officially (my cell phone doesn't lie--all the rest of the clocks in this garett do) 7:56. So I better get my rear in the shower and on with my day. I think when my first alarm sounded I had a fantasy of getting to work at 8:30 and taking an hour and a half for lunch. Dream on.

**********
Note: all linkages were done after the first edition went to press. I strongly recommend the Ben and Jerry's link as it has fun stuff--what do you expect from guys whose motto is "If it's not fun, why do it?"

Also, I think on my lunch I may just go to Targét and buy their cheapest VCR. Credit, it's the American way... DONE!!
________________
*Naomi, in the book of Ruth (who, by the end of the book was a grandma) (Have you met a grandma lately? They are pretty un-bitter people.)
**the lyrics to this song are pretty dire, but when I think of this song, I think of someone who keeps letting you down, not necessarily who leaves you. Maybe I'm thinking of a different song, like "Mama don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys"

I heart Dolly Parton (and Lorrie Morgan)

On the bus ride home, a song was spinning on the jukebox in my mind,
"Except for Monday, which was never good anyways,
Tuesday, I get a little sideways,
Wednesday, I feel better, just for spite,
Thursday and Friday take too long,
Before I know it, Saturday's gone,
But it's Sunday now
And you can bet that I'm alright."

Okay, so it sounded like Dolly Parton to me! It's Lorrie Morgan.

On the drive home tonight from child watchin' for Sally (East End Sally, not North Hills Sally) I was thinking how Day Two is code that almost all women understand. (Thank you, Badger!!) As I got up from the sofa where I'd been watching shows on CBS (my house don't get CBS), she said, sofa feel good? And I said, "It's Day Two. I took a bath before I left Virginia, and I took another one before I came over here to watch your kids." Even my mother (who never got a cramp in her life!) understood when I said, "It's Day Two." But I got me the heating pad and since I can't take Ibuprofin or its cousins, and I am home for the night, I have me a Corona, and no one's the wiser.

So I took a lot of pictures this weekend...on the Greyhound. No, we didn't even see the eclipse, it was too cloudy. No, no pictures of the bunny, or my sister, or my mom's new birdfeeders. Me, playing with the digi camera, on the bus. Yes, this is what I look like, bored on the bus. Pictures are from Thursday's trip down and today (Monday's) trip back up.

Along with the Corona (Light) and bite me! It's a half decent import, and cheap!I'm eating the entire box of Samoas. A girl has got to have her chocolate on Day Two.
My day old manicure clutching my newest book form of crack: Sisterchicks books by Robin Gunn Something.
My new manicure examining the stitches on my Liz Claiborne purse.
The seats on the bus. Look, they have little blue dogs on them!
My bracelet. My nerves (Day Two) were too shot for me to wear the bracelet, so it lived in my pocket, except for this beauty shot...
The open road, with snow. Can you say GRAY???

Can you spot the Spanish in this picture? The USA Today? The pink sweater? The cross of the purse straps?
Yes, I've seen the movie. I am now reading the book (though not ON the bus) and listening to the movie's soundtrack. Which is quite lovely. (Which I did listen to on the bus, three times!)
My wallet...
So, do you like my funky tights?? I have them in black too.