i slam doors when i’m mad

i slam doors when i’m mad

i never realized how much my mother has influenced me until i started writing this blog. i’m serious.

no, she wasn’t a door slammer, but her big sister was — the very reason it was the ultimate no-no when i was growing up. let me rephrase that — the ultimate hell-no when i was growing up & my mom wasn’t going to have it in her house.

the very reason i do it in mine.

may have been the first thing i did when i was old enough to have my own. imagine me signing the papers, walking over the threshold and

SLAM

here’s why i think door slamming works. it’s the watered-down version of throwing a stack of dishes at the wall, or firing a bullet through the television screen like elvis supposedly did. kind of like stark raving mad-LITE.

& besides — are you kidding? i’d never hurt my own stuff. took me a long time to acquire it. not only that, but i really like it.

today was a real door-slammer for me. think i did it 3 times before lunchtime. if no one’s home, sometimes i’ll throw in a couple of long, loud monkey screams but there were painters outside, re-staining my garage doors that look like hell. &, no — i didn’t slam the garage doors. they’re the roll-down kind.

so why was i so pissed today?

just got some not great news about something i’d put my blood & guts into. someone wasn’t quite as impressed with it as i was. not nearly as impressed.

so, what did i do? after i slammed the doors, you mean?

3 times?

got on my old buddy facebook, of course. isn’t that the 2014 salve for the soul? all your pals in one place ready to give you a big old Image

didn’t have to search long. there’s a woman on there who’s the real rainbows & unicorns type. here’s what was on her page:

Image

after reading that little ray of sunshine, i think i went & slammed the door a couple of more times. ate a dozen more lemon cookies. didn’t mention that part before, did i? my bad.

with only a few crumbs left in the box, i switched FB back on & began scrolling. here’s what i found:

Image

best damn idea i heard all day.

here’s another one from the archives:

Image

can i hear an amen?

thanks for listening. i feel better now.

TTFN

maudie’s & goodwill

maudie’s & goodwill

about 5 seconds from my house. I go there a lot. kinda like a “norm!” @ cheers moment sometimes, but you still don’t care if you’re wearing mascara or not. it’s just that kind of place. they’ve got this blistering-hot hot sauce — in case you think i’m a wenie, i won a jalapeno eating contest in college, so i know what i’m talking about… food’s great, too, but that’s not the best thing. it’s the people. the staff.

they’re all so damn happy. tonight, i asked the hostess how she was doing. it’s so fun being here, she said. i just love my job so much it’s not even like coming to work. now, seriously, how many people do you know who say that & mean it? they’ve had the same people working there since beans were new, & that’s saying something.

this is the place where clinton came two weeks ago, if anybody saw my FB post. they said he was a hoot, posing for everybody’s selfies. of all the nights for me to stay home eating a bowl of cereal…. damnit, janet!

here’s the other thing — there’s a goodwill a coupla doors down. people call it the gucci goodwill (GGW to people “in the know”) because all the donations are from the neighborhood — not like i’m some ritzy socialite (as if) but somebody’s bringing in some pretty cool stuff. not the women’s dept. — you can forget it on that — but the men’s? now, you’re going to think this sounds totally gross & i guess it is, wearing somebody else’s shoes — but someone i know got a pair of real-live alligator dress shoes. i guess they were dead-live. no wait, real-dead. whatever, they were slick.

sometimes you can score some pretty awesome albums, too. they always seem to have the same helen reddy’s “i am woman, hear me roar” — don’t know why somebody hasn’t snapped that one up. & a little anne murray “snow bird” — also still there. they had the partridge family & i was so pissed when it was scratched to hell. i got wayne newton’s “red roses for a blue lady.” come on — i hadn’t heard that since my mom played it on the hi-fi, & old wayne still rocks it.

all right, i’m going to let you in on a secret, so don’t tell everybody — you cool?  okay, it’s the auction. most of it you wouldn’t touch with a 12 foot pole, but darlin’, i’ve scored some good shit. 

imagine someone who cleans out their grandma’s house after she kicks off. ew, what’s THIS, i can just hear them saying….  it’s a fine-as-hell oil painting, you idiot. so here i was a couple of weeks ago. grabbed myself up a couple of bullfighting paintings. & no, they weren’t velvet &, no, elvis wasn’t the matador. the technique, the brushstrokes…  absolutely killer. got myself a nifty little iron chair with a tufted seat for my vanity. a waterford bowl. i’m telling you, the GGW doesn’t suck.

i also hang out at estate sales. you can really score at those. gotta get there early, though.

oh, & did i tell you i got some incredible hartman luggage? coolest yellow lamp…  i think i might have a problem.

so, back to maudie’s. i absolutely recommend the tacos al pastor & the chicken flaquitos, or taquitos or flautitos – i never can remember what they’re called, oh — & the avocado tomatillo sauce.

did you notice i didn’t mention when the auction IS?  as my mother used to say, you don’t have to tell everything you know.

TTFN

 

 

 

 

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