Month: August 2018

Forgetful

Have you ever had the feeling that you’ve forgotten to do something, but you can’t remember what it is you’ve forgotten, so you stumble through your morning with that little nagging thought tugging at the back of your mind?

Now, if you made it through that mess of a sentence/paragraph above you might be thinking, “Hell, I know what she forgot. It’s the punctuation mark known as a period. That woman forgot how to use a period to end a sentence.”

You could be right. That sentence definitely could’ve used a period, but what I remembered as I was writing it was that I had forgotten to write anything at all for the blog today, and while this blog post was meant for tomorrow it now has to be pressed into duty for today, and yes, I still need to remember to use a period every now and then. Kind of like breathing.

Now I just need to remember that I haven’t already written something for tomorrow. Oh! Will it never end?

Peace, people!

Pumpkin Jumpsuit vs. Risqué Shirtwaist: There are no Winners

Yesterday I shared my tale of shopping angst. I’ve been in search of a cocktail or after 5 dress for an upcoming soirée, and so far I have found nothing. The dresses that fit my 5’8″, size 12, slightly past middle-aged frame, are few and far between. And ugly. I might be nearing the age of 62, but I refuse to dress like my obituary is going into tomorrow’s newspaper.

At one point yesterday I decided to think outside the box in my pursuit of the elusive not-so-matronly dress, so I went to a local store in Tallahassee that always has a mix of new and vintage clothing displayed in their windows. It’s a nice shop, with friendly staff, and a variety of casual and dressier items in stock.

After walking around the store with me and asking about my style and color preferences one of the sales ladies opened a dressing room and began bringing different pieces for me to try on. I was seriously stoked to see just what she might find!

The first outfit was a light green floral jumpsuit. It didn’t scream “COCKTAILS” at me, but I was keeping an open mind. This isn’t it, but it was similar:

On me, the pants ended around mid-calf and the waist hit about two inches north of where my actual waist resides. And the floral pattern just made me look like I needed a good weeding.

Next she brought me another jumpsuit. I wish with all my heart that I’d had the presence of mind to take a photo of me wearing it. First off, it was orange. Not a pretty orange, but a washed out, 70’s shag carpet orange. In fact, I’d swear Studly and I lived in a rental that had the exact same color carpet during our poverty period.

The jumpsuit was crafted from chenille, so I looked like a pumpkin, freshly picked. And again, the waist was too high and the legs too short. Stifling a bout of giggles, I politely asked the sales lady to refrain from bringing any more jumpsuits to the dressing room.

So she brought me an adorable dress. It was simple and sweet on the hanger, but on me? Fugedaboutit. My bosom could not be contained by this little slip of a dress. Indeed, parts of me better left hidden made mad attempts to escape if I even dared to breathe in the gown. It was a Jekyll and Hyde affair, to be sure. All meek and mild on display, while determined to ruin my reputation whilst being worn. Be very glad that I didn’t take photos of this dress. That’s not it below, but you get the picture, right!

My little experiment in thinking outside the box was unproductive; however, I left the store with a badly damaged self-image, and that’s what really counts.

Peace, people.

A Fashion Fine Line

My clothing needs are simple most of the time. If I have a couple of pairs of jeans and/or capris that fit me, enough shirts to get me through a week without having to do laundry, and appropriate footwear for the season, I’m good to go. Occasionally, though, like now, I require something for a special occasion.

When I was younger, it was easy to find a cocktail dress for an evening out. The problem then was finding the money to buy it. Now that I have the money, my body nixes just about any dress that I find appealing, and every outfit I’ve tried on is either too hoochie coochie-ish or too funereal. I look like I’m either trying to get picked up or have already been put down.

I’m not panicking yet. The upcoming event is still several weeks away. And I did find one outfit I really liked. What do y’all think?

Peace, people.

Meme-Free Pledge

One of my long-time real life friends wrote this piece and posted it on Facebook. I took the pledge and hope that you will, as well. Thanks, Jim for making a difference. Here’s the pledge:

This political season, I am taking the Meme-Free Pledge, abstaining from sharing any political meme on social media. Like if you approve, Share and substitute your name for mine if you wish to join me!

WHEREAS: There is broad agreement that American democracy is under attack by foreign adversaries by means of spreading misinformation (propaganda) in order to create anger, fear, and mistrust, and

WHEREAS: Some of the adversaries’ most effective weapons in this effort to spread misinformation are memes shared through social media, and

WHEREAS: It is often difficult to know the source of these memes,

I HEREBY PLEDGE to assume that any political meme I see has been planted by America’s adversaries, and therefore, I will not share them, neither in public social media, nor private. This includes secret groups to which I belong and private messages.

I FURTHER PLEDGE to push back against these attacks on American democracy by exposing the misinformation, and if the misinformation is especially egregious, I will report it to Facebook or other social media formats.

I ALSO HUMBLY PLEDGE (this is the hard one for me) in my clarification of misinformation, I will do so with only sourced facts, without emotion, doing my best to avoid insulting or demeaning the poster, using language to the best of my ability that will not sound like a sneer or put down. (This is the hardest part, but the most important.)

Respectfully,

Leslie Noyes with thanks to my friend, Jim Lovell, whose post I’ve borrowed.

The Meg

Sometimes one needs a bit of mindless fun, at least I do on occasion. The summer movie, The Meg seemed perfect for that, and since Studly Doright had no interest in seeing it, I went by myself on a Wednesday afternoon while he was in Orlando for meetings.

Sure, there were other, more cerebral movies I could’ve spent the afternoon watching, but I was in the mood for a no-brainer. I certainly chose well.

First off, there will be no Oscars awarded for The Meg, unless perhaps it earns a nod for “Best Film Featuring a Gigantic, Vengeful Shark in the Tradition of Jaws.” The shark, or rather, Megalodon, is fearsome, and for such a large creature he sure could sneak up on people. I jumped and giggled every time it happened.

Jason Statham played second fiddle to the Meg, as Jonas, a diver with deep sea experience and a troubled past. Of course. Isn’t a troubled past de rigueur for a hero in a disaster-type film?

Rainn Wilson portrayed the stereotypical billionaire with a heart of lead who funded the deep sea expedition that unleashed the Meg on an unsuspecting world.

The remainder of the cast performed admirably, joking in the face of danger, recovering at a remarkable pace in the face of the deaths of their co-workers and loved ones: “Too bad about your dad. Hey, you wanna go grab dinner? I’m starving.”

I left the film totally unchanged. I’d gained no new insights into the human condition. Made no new vows to be a better person. But, I now know that one motivated, plucky dog can out swim a giant, prehistoric fish, thus bringing about a fairy tale ending. All is well.

Peace, people.

Oh, the Stories You’ll Hear

Clever and poetic!

A lot from Lydia

Soon you’ll hear stories truer than true

All of them told by coffee boys who

Were granted immunity to tell all

Trump Org CFO… is Trump’s downfall

Weisselberg now will cooperate

With Mueller, he has much to relate

Laundered money, sedition… we’ll learn

Of Mob ties, fraud, see tax returns

Then David Pecker, Donald Trump’s friend

From the Enquirer who only penned

Damning reports of Trump’s opponents

Pecker, you see, was Trump’s proponent

“Trump worries about Pecker leaking”

Helping Bob Mueller, strictly speaking,

Trump’s ex-attorney, Cohen, has tapes

Recorded dealings, Trump won’t escape

Affairs, by blows, and spousal abuse,

“The best people” have lips that are loose

Still, Trump damns himself with every tweet

He’ll be remembered, traitorous cheat

The day after Cohen’s guilty plea,

House Judiciary Committee

Scheduled a special meeting… but why?

Clinton’s e-mails. The House was Putin’s best buy

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How I Spent My Week

  • Around 8:30 on Thursday night I realized I had written nothing for the blog for Friday. There wasn’t even a decent draft to polish up for my readers. So, I’m taking the easy way out and giving a recap of my week.
    • Sunday afternoon Studly Doright and I went to see Alpha. We both enjoyed it, but had a lengthy discussion about whether the characters were computer generated or not. We refuse to google it.
    • Monday was a beach day since Studly had to travel for work. It was wonderful day, and I returned to Doright Manor refreshed and slightly sunburned. I also slept well even though Studly was gone.
    • On Tuesday I went to see Crazy Rich Asians at at a theater in Tallahassee. It’s a fun romantic comedy that made me desperately long for a trip to Singapore.
    • Wednesday was spent doing household chores and followed by shopping for an after five dress for an upcoming special occasion. I was unsuccessful, so the search will continue.
    • On Thursday I made a second foray into Tallahassee. I stopped by the Aveda Institute and took advantage of their customer appreciation day, booking several spa appointments for future dates. I ate lunch at Newk’s and then in the evening I hosted a Meetup group at the Wine Loft in Tallahasse. It was fun! Now that I’ve gotten to know some of these ladies better we’ve begun letting our hair down a bit. We got a little silly.
    • Tomorrow (Friday) I’m having a facial at Aveda, and who knows what’ll happen next? Maybe a nap….

    I might be a bit spoiled, but I am worth it.

    Peace, people