RED-LIGHT DISTRICT FOR CHRISTMAS

Christmas is a huge deal in my family. Growing up, I would help my mom decorate the house, which was not as dangerous, or as funny, as helping my dad put up the lights. 

Tangles, nails, ladders, non-working bulbs, freezing your ass off... It was all good fun. It was all a part of it. I even acquired his sound effects while working. We both make that airplane sound with our lips when concentrating on some chore. I don't know why. "I learned it from watching you, Dad!" We both had a lot of laughs, mostly at things that were thrown at us. Laughing at small frustrations is good practice for keeping your humor for the big frustrations in life. 

One year, I was exchanging the porch light and the garage lights for Christmassy ones. I put in the red light on the porch and my dad looks over and says, "I live with three women-- we cannot have a red light on the porch! Uh uh. Use the green ones!"  Good point. Our neighbors heard that. I think that’s why they all liked us. We always gave them a good chuckle.

No red-light district in Livonia, Michigan...

Another year, I don't remember what we were doing but something was terribly wrong with the lights/cords/etc, and I suggested an alternative that was probably a half-ass solution due to lack of motivation, and he joked very quietly, "We don't want everyone knowing we're stupid..." ;) (You can see that I got the ability to laugh at myself and this abnormal sense of confidence from my dad.) 

Things are a bit different now that I am older and I have a house of my own. I am solo on the lighting detail. I have one of those projectors that shine red and green dots all over my house. Done. Lovely. Time for a cocktail. Seriously, a brilliant invention for lazy ones who still want to be festive, and also for single gals who still don’t own a ladder...  BUT!! It took me a while to figure out that my house has no outside outlets. I gave it a couple laps around the house. My neighbors were watching. Then, the extension cord was, of course, a big fat mess. De-tangling is not in my wheelhouse of patience. It is my dad's. He loves that shit. Says it's "calming". Crazy. My neighbors got a bunch of expletives during their dinner. It would have been funny had my dad been with me. He’s two hours away, so we are both on our own now for the holiday fuss. Now... this shit sucks. Imagine a toddler shaking something up and down and then throwing it down in frustration. That was me. 

This morning, in the light of day, I saw the jumble that I left the extension cord in, and also noticed the mail lady's footsteps in the snow from days before... right through that mess. This is the first day it's been there. I hope she's looking where she's walking today- might I add, through my lawn instead of using the sidewalks and steps that I have to keep clear and salted for her... I really do have to fix it, though. Hope it's not too late. Ahh, she hates me anyway.  (If you need a reminder, this is just one reason:    https://www.hangingonbysillystring.com/blog/not-today-sucka )

Enjoy the chaos. There is always beauty in the chaos.

Have a Silly Monday and MERRY CHRISTMAS!!

May the magic of the season bring out the little kid in you.

Lisa

 

Christmas Snow

There are times when laziness and procrastination really pay off.

I have been in my house for about two years. My basement is my nemesis. Nothing has been unpacked and it's all boxes. So, I made the first effort last year to at least BUY the shelves, put them together, and get ready to unpack sometime in the next two years... Ha! I'm slowly working through the upstairs still. 

So, my nephews and niece were over at that time. One corner of styrofoam. That's all it took. My sister and I turned our attention away for two minutes. The two year old created a Michigan winter in my basement. I was laughing at first. At first. It was stuck in her hair, all over everything, and hitch-hiked its way upstairs, so it really was everywhere. 

Those little fly-aways are tough to catch, dammit.

I tried vacuums, dry-vacs, tape, etc. Of course my family gives me the ghetto dry-vac held together by duct tape and missing parts, making a frustrating clean up even more frustrating. At one point I had three dry-vacs in my basement and none of them worked. I finally just got a new one- with a cord as long as your arm. I did what I could and called it a day. There are too many boxes. You can't even walk through half of the basement.

So, that was last fall. Now it looks like planned Christmas decor. 

Good work.

Have a Silly Monday,

Lisa

Man, I'm Old

....Speaking of getting older, I pulled a muscle in my neck yawning.

My face afterward was probably pretty funny. "Did that actually just happen?"

I've been having a hard time with the acceptance of getting older. 
It comes in bits.
When you look in the mirror and say, "That can't be right..."

Also, when you are invited to a Halloween party and the theme is pop culture... I have no idea what pop culture is in 2017. So old. All I got was "Look What You Made Me Do", Taylor Swift. That idea is the top one on The Google for Halloween ideas, so that's out. I got nothin'. 

I realized in volleyball this past week that I truly am the oldest I have ever been. I am just going to get older, too! I know. Crazy, right? I thought I was invincible- like it just wouldn't happen to me... until I was about fifty or sixty. Not so. I have never felt that I aged a decade between volleyball seasons, except for this time. While I used to dive for digs and at least get to the ball, the movement of the ball didn't even register in my mind until it hit the floor. Now, if it's too far and I deem it to be unattainable, I just say, "That's a good serve", while I stay in the exact same spot. We had a laugh about our hearing this time. Someone heard "appendix" out of no where, so now that's what we yell when we can't hear or when anyone gets confused. Also, "side effects" was mistaken for something, meaning we are all on medications already, pretty much.

At least laughing about it will always help. Aging is inevitable, difficult- more so when you see it in your family members... but it is also pretty funny. Humbling. 

 I'm so damn tired. It's Monday morning and I already want to take a nap. Remember the "student nap pose"- resting your head on your hand, to make it look like you were reading? Yeah, that was my favorite. I may pull that off today at work. However, with this trick, you really need to be mindful of the vicious head bob that gives you away. And it also scares the shit out of you.

When has the awareness of your own aging hit you? Leave it in the comments below!
Have a Silly Monday,
Lisa

Leading Lady

There is something good that comes from watching TV, no matter what people say. Here's one reason: Whenever I am going through something difficult- whether it be an embarrassing incident or a downright heartbreak- I think of the leading ladies in sitcoms and how this situation would play out in a half hour comedy. 

Mindy and Jess  are always able to shrug something off and let it go. Move on and pay it no mind. This idea kind of puts things into perspective. It helps me to, anyway. It aids in looking at any situation with humor-even something that is devastating at the present moment. They also can make fun of the situation, and of themselves, aware of their faults and defects. (I have always had the same reaction as Mindy when someone pokes fun at me for one of my faults. "Alright", being the reaction, in the tone of complete self-awareness and self-love as well. The twelve year old who made fun of me because I got scared from a really stupid horror movie. "Alright." Smile. I am well aware of that defect, but that one may never change completely.... I'm fine with it. Moving on. It is a great response showing self-acceptance, I think.)

The norm for a sitcom is misunderstanding as humor. When things get turned around and misconstrued is when it gets good. Monica, Rachel, or Phoebe never played into people not knowing the real truth- they just accepted it and moved on. I think of that episode where Rachel is trying to woo Josh and everything gets discombobulated, and she opens the door in a wedding dress, emanating the misconception in the entire episode. She just shuts the door and says, "Well, that oughta do it." She knows he thinks she's crazy and believes a situation that is entirely false, but lets it go anyway and carries on with her day.

Also, whenever I feel down on myself, am being impatient with myself, or maybe I'm completely fudging up a project or something, I always say to myself, "Come the fuck on, Bridget" (from Bridget Jone's Diary). You have to do it in a British accent. It works. It takes the anxiety and the deflation out of the problem. Makes everything lighter. Maybe that's just the accent, though.

When you really get stuck, let's not forget the dinner scene in The Holiday. "In the movies, there's a leading lady and the best friend. You are the leading lady, I can tell, but for some reason, you're behaving like the best friend." 
"You're right. You are supposed to be the leading lady of your own life for God's sake."

Putting yourself in the role of your favorite sitcom lady makes the big things a little less scary and shrinks them to a manageable size. Perspective. Sometimes circumstances are so ridiculous. Life throws you wrench after wrench, and it all seems so absurd... When you think to yourself, "Am I actually dealing with this in my life as a 37 yr old? This is preposterous." Think of Lucy, Laverne, Shirley- whoever your ladies are. Put it in a sitcom and move on.

Whatever it is, it usually makes for a good story, too.

Have a Silly Monday,

Lisa

A Day at the Beach

So, out here in west Michigan, weekends are obviously beach days. The problem is that they are beach days for EVERYONE and their mother, so parking is a hassle. Why they don't expand parking for the big beaches, I have no idea. It's ridiculous.

It's a timing game. I went from the biggest beach out here, which could easily fit everyone in the surrounding cities on the actual beach, but of course the minuscule parking lot was full, to a smaller beach with only six parking spots and I found a spot. Crazy. It's just timing. 

So, in my constant search for a beach with parking, I decided to go to one I've never been to yet. It said online that it was secluded, which would be nice. I packed up all my stuff, headed out, and found the last spot in a lot of about five available. So, I grabbed my chair, cooler, roller bag stuffed with blankets, Kindle, writing pad, and set out. This was different. There was a dune. I mean, an actual dune. Not just a sandy hill like we see most times around here.

In passing, I saw stairs going up on my left and a beautiful sandy trail going down to my right. So, I chose right. Why would I go up when I want to get down to the beach? I found out. Going down the dune was not as bad as going up would be, sure, but it was pretty steep and carrying all this stuff, I definitely gave a father and son playing catch at the bottom some very unattractive views. Anyway, better than the stairs! Wasn't so bad.

I get out to the beach and turn around to see where I just came from because there's no way I can climb the dune on the way back. I look at the flights of steps. Freaking Machu Picchu. Aw geeze. I did not pack appropriately for this. I looked around at the very popular beach (can't be that secluded if it's online, right? Where the hell did all these people park?), and everyone only has their towels. No coolers, chairs, bags, etc. Ha! This is going to be fun getting back to my car. My bad. Well, at least I'll be here for a while. 

I always think that if I wake up early to fight the parking situation that I'll sleep on the beach. This is never the case. Then I'm just tired, cranky, and irritable at the beach. For example, why is it that people have to be right on top of you? Numerous times people have touched their blankets to my blankets. Their bags or flip flops ON my blanket. Too close. Back off. We are strangers, in bathing suits no less, not best buds. So strange, right? It's like close-talkers, but everyone's practically naked, so it's way more invasive. It's like when my mom goes to a movie (she's like 3ft tall) and the tallest guy always sits in front of her, even though there is a myriad of empty seats. With me, it's the intrusive beach bums, always screaming at their kids or loud eaters. Every time. There is room. I usually look around at all the available sand in an exaggerated way for these intruders to take notice. Then I reach awareness that I am irritated at the beach. I hate that. A day at the beach is supposed to be "a day at the beach".

I moved once. I couldn't take the chomping and screaming. There goes my nap. The lady actually put her feet on my blanket right by my face. Ugh! I was here first!! I had to move.

 But all in all, beautiful chill time. As long as I didn't want to leave yet.

Then it was time. The Climb. Carrying all my shit, I looked like a packed mule. I took some breaks along the way. I felt better as 20 somethings were huffing and puffing too. Good, this is normal. Except for that couple, so obviously still in their wooing phase, that was RUNNING up the steps. I don't think I ever thought such foul thoughts about anyone. Someone should trip 'em. 

As I'm trucking, my bag that was tucked inside my other bags tipped from my meticulous pack job on my back and poured out a stream of tampons. This stream slinkied down the steps, but also sprayed to the sides on the actual dune. A little boy asked his mom what they were. Only me. I had to go down the damn steps, collect my embarrassing belongings, and then GO BACK UP the damn steps. 

Now, I'm pretty active. I play softball, volleyball, and do yoga, advanced-dancer-Zumba twice a week, with weights. I do my resistance training and walk all the time. There is a treadmill in my office. This was just not my forte is all. I have always hated the step machine at the gym. I also really hate running. I hear that most women with boobs do. And spinning- my crotch hurt for a week. I think you just have to accept what you like to do for exercise and what kinds hate your private parts. I did not like stepping. But hey, at least I don't have to work out for the rest of the weekend now... 

I got to my car and I was dripping. Panting, I passed some cutie-pa-tootie heading in. Of course. I loaded up and pulled out of the lot. Every car along the woods leading in to the area had a ticket. This parking situation is for the birds. My invaders for sure got a ticket, since they got there so late. I felt guilty for this little evil pleasure, so when I passed the cop still writing tickets I gave him some stink eye. We beach parkers still need to stick together.

I went straight to the ice cream place and got lemon frozen yogurt in a cone. I don't think it defeated the purpose of ALL the steps... 

The next few days my ass and hamstrings were tighter than my bathing suit. Ow.

But still, so worth it, our Great Lakes.

I hope this Labor Day Monday is a day at the beach for all of you!
Lisa