Tuesday, March 29, 2011

the purple pants club


You may remember that I almost punched a guy in the nose for suggesting that I might be a member of the red hat club because I was wearing a red hat. Not really, but I thought about it. I am thinking now, of starting a purple pants club. I have a pair of shiny purple leggings that look like something you might wear to dance around a pole. Funny, no?

I went to a conference last week and it occurred to me this morning that the toilets at MSU flush so suddenly and so ferociously that you are lucky to have all your body parts and your clothing in tact when you emerge from the stall. Better not accidentally drop a scarf end or a shirt tail into the toilet or you could find yourself with an insider’s view of MSU’s plumbing system. I laughed out loud when I thought of this.

We went on Friday to visit my mom in Canby. We had beautiful weather for travel. The roads were dry, the skies were blue, and the sun was shining. Lovely. We did see massive amounts of water…creeks overflowing their banks, fields that look more like lakes, and ditches filled to the top. On the way home, we saw 17 hawks between Marshall and Morgan.

Friday night, we stayed home and had a glass of wine and told stories. Mom is a lot of fun and has a great outlook on life. I want to be just like her when I grow up.

Saturday morning, we toured the local shops and I bought some things, most of which I don’t need but it was fun. I bought a great red belt that I have since decided is too skanky to wear outside of the house. Regis, my fashion advisor, confirmed this with a photo.

We went to one shop (boutique) that had great stuff but really? A t-shirt for 200 dollars? A little rich for my taste. I did get a scarf and a pair of earrings for reasonable prices.

Saturday night, we went to the Rock Room at Buffalo Ridge for dinner. It’s the old School for the Blind in Gary, South Dakota that has been renovated into a lovely resort and convention center. Good food but kind of a loud and stark ambience. Mom’s right, they need to warm the place up somehow.

Apparently, the fashion for men in South Dakota is plaid, western-style shirts. I have never seen so many plaid shirts in my life.

I decided that some of the things that have been languishing on my to-do list for months needed to get done this week. Fits and starts. That’s how I operate. It’s my modus operandi. My MO.

Therefore, Karl is starting our patio addition on Friday. I had forgotten that we called him last fall. He sometimes comes over to scope out a job when we aren’t home so when I called him yesterday, I talked like it was my first contact and he already had the brick and a date to start. Hurray! We thought we might have to wait until July and we could be done in two weeks.

We have an appointment to talk to the banker about refinancing our house, someone should be coming today to repair the garage door, and I’m on the trail of someone to put in a new front door for us and someone else to give me decorating advice. Mom thought I could to the latter by myself but if I ever had any of that kind of sense, I have lost it somewhere along the way. And Regis reminded me that all of this costs money, very little of which we have.

Funny thing I am realizing about retirement. It’s a little bit like a planned death. People start picking up the things you do and talking about things that will happen after you’re gone, kind of looking past you. Somebody yesterday said, “Well, this will happen until…” and then they stopped. It’s ok to say it and you don’t have to avert your eyes. Until I retire. It’s a weird, but not unpleasant feeling. I have started to click off my brain when the conversations turn to next year. I don’t have to burn brain cells on that notion and we all know I have precious few to spare.

I am reading one of Jim Harrison’s novels in book form at home and by Kindle at the Pulse. I don’t mind being in two different places as I appreciate his writing so much that it’s wonderful to read the same words again. I might just decide that he is the only author I will read for a while.

1 comment:

mom said...

Your toilet story reminds me of the times I work at the Blood Mobile. We are stationed in front of the rest rooms and when someone goes to the bathroom we know if they wash their hands or not. They have new blowers and they go WHOOSH and sound like they are sucking someone out of their skin. I feel like telling those old men , go back and wash your hands. We know you did not because the blowers did not go on.