It’s the “here we go again” 70 page background check and
polygraph prep: Recall my mailing address two decades ago in South Korea? Nope.
My ex-husband’s social security number? Nope. His current mailing address?
Definitely not. Have I ever allowed recreational marijuana use in my home?
Define “allowed”. Have I ever worked at a job where alcohol consumption on duty
was allowed? Yes, in fact, it was encouraged. It’s called “radio”. Ever blog
about porn? Guilty! Oh wait, that’s not one of the questions. Wheew!
I’d rather be bedazzling on this Friday night. My grandmother was a costume designer in the golden age of Vaudeville in Miami and she made it look so easy, affixing rhinestones armed with nothing but a metal nail file and her own acrylic tipped fingernails.
I just returned from a few (too few) days in the woods with
my dog. We were along the GA/SC border and it was cold! I’m part lizard so I’m
always cold but even my wanna-be mountain dog didn’t want to get out of the car
on Day 2 after traipsing (more like tripping) 8 miles through the hills the day
prior in 30 degrees. Probably spent more time on the road than in the woods, I
simply didn’t have much PTO to spare.
But road trips are a game of Name That Roadkill, of signs
warning me that Judgement Day is coming, and old trucks on the side of the road
that I salivate over the idea of buying and busting my knuckles on, , singing
to my dog for 10 hours, choreographing dance and comedy routines in my head, wishing
I’d thought to be a Park Ranger when I grew up, and overthinking in general.
Thinking about random shite. Like…
And so it begins again, New Year, New You. The usual
suspects on my social media checking in to their gyms and taking pictures of
their salads as if NOT doing this would negate any benefits of their temporary
new routines and diets.
If I had a New Year’s resolution it might be to run (okay,
slow jog, ie: “Slog”) every day (yes EVERY day) and replace wine with tea.
Then I think about these studies that say running is NOT the
best form of exercise and I think “Those are conducted by people that sincerely
hate running”. And I eat them up like gospel because I sincerely hate running. But
the fact in my experience remains that I do not know a single sincere runner in
bad shape. Even those like me with bad backs, knees, etc…their conditions
improved with running (ie: losing weight). When I ruck 15 miles carrying an
extra 50lbs, I hurt the next day. But I’m carrying an extra 50lbs all over my
body EVERY day. So I hurt. Dur.
I still don’t want to run.
And I think I’ll stick to the state highways and off the interstate as much as possible in the future. On these now “back-roads”, there’s less traffic and I don’t have the peer pressure of keeping up with the speeding flow or avoiding leapfrogging semi-trucks or impatient assholes psychically nudging my bumper to force me to drive even faster than the 20 over I’m already traveling (by the way, Bitch, I can pit you. Back. Off.)
And I think about CK and his love of museums. I told him the
only museums I enjoyed were the Smithsonian in DC and…I think I’ve been to the
Louvre but that year was a blur for me. “Where is the Mona Lisa?” I asked. The Louvre,
he answered. Then yes, I’ve been to the Louvre because I remember her. I don’t enjoy
the Ringling museum but there are two pieces I like, the portrait of Salome and
the three muses: spinning, measuring and cutting. I’m particularly drawn to the
one that cuts.
But back to CK, the man who loves museums and spends Friday
nights organizing his desk drawer and kitchen cupboards for the 5th
time this year. I told him he is a prime candidate for the Dull Men’s Club and
should apply. They’d send him a certificate that he can frame for his office