today, no matter what tone was used, i was unable to get the result needed from the family.
i have been without a car,since mid-december
my wings have been clipped.
the following 4 things are car dysfuntional :
1}it is now just a housing for a detached battery
(thank you graham,sarcastic tone here. the detachment solidified my hopelessness)
2} a dead starter.
3} invalid shocks and the ball joints need replacement.
4}no real steering ... the piece to repair this is really expensive
the most needed for my driving dreams,
you know,,,, freedom.
i have been in the house for months now.
it is not truly a problem... since my blood pressure has dropped hugely.
driving my kids to and fro to their daily crap...
within the uselessness of my car...
in local Providence traffic
(the land of the optional turn signal)...
well, not having that responsibility has been pretty darned nice.
shhhh. don't tell my husband.
i implore you.
anyways, no one would walk my poor pupster today.
so i did in a fit of theatricized pique.
i actually kind of like it.
both the walking and the option on throwing a good huff as i blew out the front door ...
some movement is good for my sedentary life.
it breaks up the solidly seat-bound lifestyle i have embraced.
my dog is more faithful to me when i care for him.
the kids do house chores when i am gone,,, to appease my creamy yet nutty center.
another component of my life in the green chair is that i get to enjoy my wake-up rituals.
this includes a little internet time while drinking home brewed starbucks coffee.
i know, you are shocked that i still breath with all this non-active stuff i revere.
i left the house after the dog walk
to get some supplies for a couple of half built necklaces.
i was able to purchase some of the stuff that has held up progress.
as boring as it is, i needed some jewelry supplies.
shortage of time constrains my wonder and wanderlust.
in and out in 20 minutes.
wahoo, a new personal best.
after this, the next errand was to purchase some coffee.
As the nearest starbucks is next to the brand new
A N T H R O P O L O G I E
i felt a quick dawdle through the store was warranted.
unintentionally, i actually picked up a job application.
(bearing in mind, i had on dirty & baggy jeans with a pale apricot sweatshirt too.
clearly not my finest hour, fashion-wise).
i got my coffee
and had it ground after my adoration of all places was completed.
i had a pair of thoughts.
what happens to old hippies?
A N D
when are you too old to be hip?
these two things came together like a pair of cymbals clanging loudly.
who is the group of artists that i share space with when i try to participate in a craft show?
it is a venn diagram of the two groups overlapping.
there are the old hippies.
(i am a wannabee of this set)
now as an aging hippie wannabee,
(now referred to as HW)
i am a little suspicious of the much younger crowd my 17 yo son has dubbed:
i am agog that they have all the bennies of youth in their back pockets.
if their pants have them.
i am envious.
i do not enjoy that folks whose hormones support real hair in proper places,
love fake mustaches.
the love of all things mustachioed mystifies my HW self.
the HD's make them out of felt. felted wool. wool. paper. paper mache. jigsaw cut wood. carved wood.
adhere them on a stick, on a mask, on eyeglasses, on elastic ear loops,on mirrors etc.
i am not amused.
remember me as the poster gal for hair envy.
my age group is battling a very tough uphill war with nature.
if you wait long enough, you have all kinds of hair sprouting from fresh untapped places.
men have their ears and noses.
i dare not investigate anything further, lest i call an ambulance first.
women have their chins and yes, natural mustaches.
IT IS NOT FAIR.
i really NEVER had
mustache envy ever.
not even over magnum p.i.'s flourishing lip brushes.
i plainly refuse to shave my face at all.
waxing requires growing it out.
can't go there.
as a matter of fact, i speak for a large group of women of a certain age.
(i know this because my friend was put into a chemical coma last year. when she came out of it, she was wacky as all hell, yet she asked me to pluck her whiskers before she could actually go to the bathroom.)
we are plagued by these small sharp surly, age identifying whiskers.
i am thinking of treating my artistic,
duct tape loving self
to the joy of taping it all off
and ripping quickly.
(duct tape is reported to work wonders with wart removal. )
and yes i am a little on the side of experimental.
of course this is supported easily by my winter hibernation-loving
house potted self.
who would know if this experiment went horribly, disfiguringly poorly?
i am in the bosom of my family after all.
all kinds of unconditional love here!
(although they are the first ones to mock me on any given day ).
and then there is the love of flowers.
hippies love flowers.
we love acid bright colors.
and now they are back in vogue.
just check out any of the crafters at a show.
there is a sub-species of them.
my daughter is an art student in a boston college these days.
my son calls her and her kind, HD's.
really, she is the prototype.
without her and her friends, how would we be able
to identify the artistic royalty that is
the HD styling is recognizable easily with the obvious external costumery.
they sport thick black frames for their eyeglasses.
skirts over their pants
their many hairstyles require uber-short bangs and skinny braids.
avocado green, burnt orange, goldenrod yellow, browns & gray blue figure largely
in their clothing palettes.
(think dead refrigerator colors)
Never forget about BLACK.
the uniform color to which all others bow as accent tones.
she and her friends support this color-way.
the one that popularized household appliances in the 70's.
"Not for nothing", as they say in these here parts,
but HIPSTER DUFUS is the unrecognized
HIPPIE model. Oh. point. two .
yes, hippies,HW's and HD's
are cut from the same bolt of cloth.
NOTHING is new.
I am sitting in that bunny eared shape thing that is the overlapping part of the venn diagram.
i have to
try my best to share well
and play nice in each circle.
just remember though,
we oldies, have all kinds of old lady hair and are not afraid to use it.