Murray Hotel 


Here's where we stayed for my birthday/Kentucky Derby weekend. It was fun, romantic, rustic, old, just opened for the season, no cable, the restaurant wasn't open, but we had a great time. He had told me we were going camping. The ice machine wasn't working. That's close, isn't it?

I bought my beau tickets to see one of his favorite performers, Willie Nelson, for his birthday. He's so excited, it's kind of cute.

I'm lucky, in that I've gotten to see most of my favorite performers. I think it's great, though to get to do that for someone else. Especially someone who is A) a big fan and B) a person they've never seen.

I must say, I myself am not a huge fan of Willie, but I know I'll enjoy being there with my special guy. It's fun going someplace with someone who REALLY enjoys that place, whatever it may be. The enthusiasm just spills over. Like the time I took him to the classic car museum, and when I turned away, he was on the floor under the "first front wheel drive" car, checking it out!

He makes me laugh, and enjoy life so much more than I used to.

It's one of the many things I love about him.

I live in an apartment with a balcony. The balcony overlooks a woodsy area. It's not really that many trees, but it was always just enough in spring and summer to blot out the view of houses, cars and the street below, down the hill. It made me feel like I was in my own private little space. It made the deck a place of refuge and some quiet, unless one of my neighbors was playing their music really loudly.

A couple of weekends ago, one of the people who lives on the street below (it's kind of down a slopey ledge from my building) cut down some trees in what is their backyard. It was loud. I looked out there, kind of grumbling, but saw that the trees were dead. They needed to come down.

Now I can not only see the back of that house and garage, but the house across the street from them. It's the kind of thing that feels like an invasion of my privacy. They won't likely notice from the street. Others in my building might not likely notice, as it seems many don't sit out on their decks.

It's a hole in my bubble, it seems, and the world can see in.

It's about as I'd expected. Sometimes fun, sometimes annoying, sometimes a bitch, sometimes I was smiling.

And we won't have another reunion for at least another couple of years.

Bonus side, I got to see my niece. A lot. She's so cute and smart and clever and happy and sunny. Almost makes me want one of my own. Almost.

It was friggin' hot though. Usually this particular holiday weekend in Michigan is rainy and cold. So at least I wasn't trapped in a lodge off a dirt road in the middle of nowhere with 40 or so of my family members.

It feels good to be home. Yay for A/C!!

Does misery love company? I believe so. I remember feeling sad and depressed a lot of the time and that spilling over onto everything in my life. After a while, people didn't want to be around me very much.

It took me a long while to work my way out of that funk. It was like a crutch, a way I defined myself. Identified myself. I let myself get angry, and then I felt much better, lighter, free. I had stepped into the sunlight.

I suppose now I am sensitive to others who do this. I don't think they always realize they are doing it. I didn't.

Some people want to change. Some don't. My heart goes out to those who are still shrouded in darkness. I realize I need to be supportive, but it's tough to draw the line between those who want to wallow, and those who truly want to change.

After all, the definition of insanity is: doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.

Thing is, it seems some of us can bang our head against a brick wall a lot longer than others.

The other day, the fire alarms went off where I work. They are nifty and annoying and have that bright white flashing light. Most of us (near where I was sitting anyway) went outside to our designated area like good little soldiers. Others waited inside to see if it was a false alarm.

It was.

The local fire department was draining the hydrants, and when our building's system noted a drop in water pressure, it triggered the alarm, which then, needs to be approved by the local fire department that there is NO threat.

I figured it was better to be safe than sorry. Plus it was a nice day outside.

I can't believe people would rather work and/or stand around looking out the window to see what is going on, than just get out of the building.

It's just a job, people. And not one of life and death importance, either.

sheesh.

For the first time in my life, I actually bought real Parmesan cheese and grated it over my pasta. None of that stuff in the shaker, none of that pre-grated stuff from the deli.

Is that ever excellent. I'm officially a convert. Never again will I buy anything less.

Small chunks of it aren't even that expensive, and I can grate them with my microplane grater.

I feel rather silly for this, it's very simple. But for whatever reason, I never tried this. I hate to waste things, if I had some of another type of cheese I wouldn't throw it away even though it smelled terrible and had a waxy texture.

Just another example of a little properly spent money going a long way.

*smacks hand to forehead*

AND I'm Italian, too!

I'm a little frustrated. My college alma mater keeps trying to contact me, they say for some alumni directory, but what they want is money. I get stuff in the mail and telephone calls (one of which had them asking me for an email address). Do I want electronic harassment as well? I think not.

Not that I'm not grateful, and not that I don't realize there are students in need, but it took me 10 years to pay off my student loans! Plus I'm not really working in my field, not that that's their fault, I mean Art History isn't that marketable without an advanced degree, but they didn't tell me that, either.

I try to be polite on the phone, but they will just keep going down in denomination. If you can't give $150, what about $75?

What about NO?

I'm just not getting why Sydney had to lose both of her parents. Hasn't the poor girl suffered enough?

Killing Arvin Sloane twice was pretty excellent, though.


In other news I tried really hard not to laugh today. I was in the locker room at the Y when this little girl asked her mom why she had to change in front of everyone. "They can all see my butt", she said. "Locker rooms are just like that", her mom said.

I mumbled, "Everyone has a butt". The mom laughed.

I have a family reunion coming up this weekend.

I have mixed feelings about it, and I'm trying to hope for the best, and keep my expectations low. I have family in the same state where I am that I don't see very often, and others coming from out east that I see even less. I'm not especially close to them nor have tons in common, but I make the effort to find things to talk about, and compare, and laugh and smile.

But sometimes there is so much drama that some bring to the table. It's hard to escape that sometimes, even if I don't stand next to those people.

Most of me doesn't want to go. Part of me knows it's the right thing to do, and all of me is going. At least for a while.

I have this quirk, even when watching a bad or stupid movie (or at least one I think is so...) once invested, I stick with it until the end.

I don't particularly enjoy these introspective movies that have little or no resolution. I prefer my characters to either have a realization or not.

I watched "The WeatherMan" last night. I guess I just didn't get it.

Plus, watching a chubby pre-teenager is really painful. Hello, that was me. Sometimes it still is.

This guy's life just seemed rather f-ed up, if you know what I mean. I didn't see any great realization or movement, a subtle one, perhaps, and that was supposed to make me hope, I suppose.

I guess we don't usually make dramatic extreme makeover types of changes in our lives, not really. It is the small movements and attempts and challenges that we rise to that form us.

Still, perhaps it was a little too much like life, and I was hoping for a little more of an escape.

Nicholas Cage is pretty diverse, though. He's done a lot of things, and I always enjoy seeing what he's gotten up to this time.

Still puzzling on that movie...Maybe it wasn't a total waste of time.

All I could think of to say today is something that's very self involved. It made me feel good, though.

As long as I can remember, when it was important to be pretty, I was the smart one. In high school, in college. After a while, I let go of the fantasy of someone seeing me and thinking I was beautiful, wanting to get to know me. I realized I didn't have that allure.

Being smart, though, I knew I would always have that, even after beauty faded.

Yesterday, I got up, put my hair into pigtails, got dressed, and went about my day. Not sure why I did that, but it was going to be warm, and I wanted to go to the garden center to get some plants, and knew I'd be busy, wanted my hair out of the way and off my neck.

As I walked through, looking at the plants, to case everything, a man was looking at me so intently, he tripped over the orange cone they'd placed at the corners of the plant sections, so people wouldn't walk on the plants.

I giggled to myself. That's never happened before, at least not that I noticed. It made me feel powerful, attractive, strong and wonderful. The power of beauty, knowing one is beautiful, and that it impacts others around them is a heady thing.

I can see how the pretty girls let it rule them, seeming to let other pursuits fall by the wayside.

I know it's temporary and I didn't let it go to my head. Well, maybe just for a minute.

I am torn between being "good" and sticking to my eating and exercise plan and just "going with the flow". I was invited out to lunch today, dinner this evening and dinner again tomorrow night. I love eating at great restaurants, and spending time with my family and friends. I more or less become a hermit in the winter months, so this is a real treat for me, and I'm feeling more social than I have in a while.

Trouble is, I tend to "give myself free reign" when eating at a restaurant, sure have the bread, sure split a dessert. It's tough. But I don't think anyone looks back on their life and says to themselves..."I think I ate too many desserts".

And the salmon with hoisin sauce was yummy.

My car, the color officially being called "Black Gold", a gold metallic undertone to the black color, appears to be a bird doo magnet.

It's been raining here, though, off and on for a week. I have been putting off getting it washed, because, well, you know. But then when I wait, it gets MORE stuff on it.

eesh.

I wonder, is there some sort of "visible only to birds" target on it? The last episode happened when it wasn't even parked under a tree!

Just a random ramble here, but odd nonetheless.

I'll admit it, I was wrong.

I always say, the book is better than the movie, the movie is never even CLOSE.

I just watched the movie "In Her Shoes". I thought it would be good for Mother's Day. While I had pretty low expectations, I enjoy the three main actresses, Toni Colette, Cameron Diaz, and the incomparable, Shirley MaClaine.

Wow. It had all the sister moments, driven by love and hate. It had all the stepfamily moments, the father who lost his bride, and never quite recovered, resulting in a family that is never quite mended. The older sister, driven to perfection of pleasing who, she isn't quite sure. I can relate a little to closely to all of these things.

It made me laugh, it made me cry, it broke my heart and mended it again, all in the span of the movie.

It was wonderful.

I thought of my grandmother today. Not just because it's mother's day, but because I was channel-surfing and saw "Soul Train" on. She used to watch it. Yes, I can clearly recall being at Grandma's house, and on Saturday afternoons, she would have it on in the den while she bustled about the kitchen, dashing back in to see it. My German grandmother, watching "Soul Train".

Perhaps things like that are part of what kept her young. She wanted to see her grandchildren's tattoos, piercings, and hear about and see the latest movies. She was always open and interested in everything we had to tell her. She never judged us, but occasionally would let us know she was disappointed in something, like us not finishing a college degree.

She died in October, and I do miss her. I miss going to see her, getting cards from her, picking out cards to send her, and just knowing there was always a hug waiting for me, full of unconditional love.

Happy Mother's Day.

By the time I got to the farmer's market this morning, well it was noonish. And raining. So there weren't many vendors, but a good amount of customers milling around. Had it not been raining, I would have bought some pansies to plant. And marigolds.

As it was, I got green peppers for 50 cents each and a red pepper for 75 cents. A loaf of whole grain bread was a bit much at 4 dollars, but it has a sweet flavor and lovely dense texture. It's a round loaf, sliced up so that the middle slices are long. I can cut them in half to make sandwiches.

I felt good buying things there, and it helps to get out to places like that. When it's really crowded, I get kind of panicky. So it's good practice. It's like claustrophobia but outside, with too many people. I plan to go back as often as I can. The asparagus was much too big, didn't look very tender. I just have to make a point to get my bum out of bed in the morning.

The rain makes me want to lie on the couch and watch TV. I had "The Big Night" from Netflix. aaah, the food, the wine, the music. It's truly an underrated gem with Tony Shaloub and Stanley Tucci. Before Monk, that is.

Ah, now it's back on the very straight and narrow. To finally beat this weight thing once and for all, to show it who is the boss!! I know I can do it, but for some reason there is a bit of me that seems not to want to. I think it's scared.

I have the best of intentions. I've had them for years now. I want to volunteer to do things like build houses for Habitat for Humanity. To be a Big Sister. To help clean up the community, plant gardens, help folks who can't get out and do their own yardwork. To donate my clothes to women who really need them, and not to someplace that will sell them.

Trouble is, I wind up never having the opportunity nor time nor know exactly how to get into these things.

There is an opportunity here at work to volunteer for something. Something they do every year. It's not really a charity event. It's a big annual thing and this place gets free publicity from being all over the news and such. It's more of a community event.

Personally, that's not my idea of charity. So I don't volunteer. Maybe that makes me "not a team player", but I don't care. I figure it's up to me how I spend my volunteer time (though some of this takes place during the work day) and this isn't my idea of how I want to represent myself.

What irks me is sometimes they get "high pressure" about it, offering prizes to the area that has the most volunteers. gah

it's like bribery. But they call it volunteering.

It's raining today. I awoke to a premonition of what my future may be like. I ached all over. My joints hurt. My knee with runner's knee hurts a bit. I wanted to crawl back into bed. My back hurt, my shoulder blades ached.

It's going to suck getting old.

Speaking of which...My Grandpa fractured his hip. I'm sending out good and healing vibes. And soon, a card.

*looks around for her Alleve*
..Hums...What a drag it is getting old...

Whenever they have free food at work, there is a mass exodus in that general direction.

Then I silently make a "mooing" noise to myself. The stampede begins!!

I've got fruit though. And coffee, and juice. I just waited for the stampede to end.

I always think when I say goodbye to someone, be it someone who lives across town or several hours away, "did I make sure they know how much I treasure and love them?"

Is that goofy? Or just overly emotional?

I have lost some very dear loved ones over the course of my life. A mother and a grandmother, among others. But those are the losses that shape my actions now.

I don't mean to sound sad or want sympathy. I just strive to understand myself.

I want to be sure I let people know how much they mean to me, or how proud I am of them, or how fortunate I am to have them in my life. Everyone teaches me something. To be patient, to be more optimistic, to be more flexible and live in the moment...

I am a work in progress, and I am grateful for the gift of so many to learn from. Just as I am sure they likely learn from me. How to be detail oriented or perhaps my seemingly limitless cache of random movie trivia?

I just replay those "last time I saw that person" moments in my head and hope that last kiss, hug or murmured words truly hit their mark. And will hold until I see that person again.

I must admit for all my b*tching, I had a wonderful birthday weekend. My lovely beau took me away someplace here that is typically touristy. This time of year, however, it wasn't really busy. It was beautiful, sunny, but a bit chilly. I'd much rather go this time of year than in the heat of summer, as we all did when we were kids.

We ate at restaurants, went on a carriage tour, watched the Kentucky Derby, it was blissful.

Except for the double rather than promised queen size beds, lack of ice machine and no cable in the hotel, that is. It's amazing how much I'm addicted to things like being able to check the weather at any time or seeing news updates.

I wouldn't trade it for the world, though. Hands down, the best birthday I can recall in a long time.

Now he heads back to his home today. But I got him Willie Nelson tickets for his birthday, and the concert is July 10. So he'll HAVE to come back soon :)
It's not so much a deliberate manipulation as it is one of his very favorite perfomers. I love concerts myself, and have been fortunate enough to be able to see most of my favorite perfomers over the years. I just want to share that with him. But then again, that means I have to go as well. Should be interesting.

I think this means, birthday or not, I'm growing up.

Is it rude to NOT want to repeat myself when someone keeps NOT being able to hear me? It gets really old after that person insists they don't need their hearing checked and only seem to have a problem around me.

I'm trying to be understanding. But mostly I wind up saying, "never mind, it doesn't matter." The thing is, it did matter, even if it was me babbling or talking about my new coffeemaker. It did matter or I wouldn't have said it in the first place.

I love him, but things like this make me a little bit unbalanced. Oh, and the smoking thing.

I'm doing my best, but understand if we did live together, things would have to change. Or at least an attempt.

Why does that make me sound b*tchy?

I was willing to change, to quit smoking, to begin to exercise to be healthier and try to lose weight. I don't think it's too much to ask that we BOTH do these things. If it's best for me, why can't it be the best for both of us?

I love him, I just want him to be around for a while.

I'd just like to say that there surely isn't nor will there ever be an actress like Katherine Hepburn. Yes, I've been watching some of her movies on my Netflix queue. Especially the ones with Spencer Tracy.

These days, everyone seems homogenized, tummy tucked, yed and plucked. I appreciate any woman or anyone who celebrates what they are and enhances that rather than trying to make themselves look like everyone else.

Plus, she had to fight to wear pants. We don't even KNOW what that's like. We take so much for granted. I think today's Hollywood has really lowered our expectations of entertainment. Unless we start to demand more, it will just get worse.

It's no secret, I love to eat. I love food. I love cooking, baking, eating, trying new things, cooking new things. I love to cook at home or try new restaurants.

I find, though, that food that's just so-so at a restaurant will be touted by someone I meet or know casually through work as "really great".

I wonder, are our expectations lower? Am I a food snob? I can usually make something tastier and better than what I've had at some places. People's recommendations often fall flat of my expectations.

Maybe we've had bad food so long, we don't know any better.

As a general rule, I try to stay to the local places rather than chains. Sometimes when meeting friends or family though, and others choose, one is subjected to that choice.

I'll just keep telling them where the better Italian food is, and then they can taste the difference for themselves.

I'm going to be honest here, I don't do well with surprises. My beau (the word boyfriend sounds so 7th grade) is taking me away for the weekend, but he won't tell me where. I know he's made reservations, which is good because I am a planner. I don't tend to just go someplace out of town and not know what is coming next.

I know we'll be out of town, I know we'll be in the same state. That's about it.

I'm making the effort to savor the moment, as he's been teasing me we'll go very rustic camping. (like, away from the car for a few days, out in the middle of nowhere camping) that is NOT my cup of tea, and he knows that. So I'm going along with his "rent-a-tent" and double sleeping bag and "johnny on the spot" comments.

I am sure it will be fun, whatever we do. As my bonus mom says..."Surprises are good for you."

I don't know about that, but I'm sure it will be a memorable birthday. I don't like people to make a fuss over my birthday, but this is kind of a nice feeling.

I am amused at my response to sleep disturbance. When I am alone, and something wakes me from a lovely sleep, be it noise, a bathroom visit or the random pains that seem to be increasing with alarming numbers, I am irritated.

When my beau is visiting, though, and I wake up because he's not feeling well, or still up watching TV, all I can think this morning is how happy I am he's come for a visit.

Yep, that clinches it, I AM a total doofus.

*yawns*