Um, it's the last day of July. WHAT'S UP WITH THAT. In sharp contrast to last summer when I could be seen doing many summery things, I'm currently wearing pants and a long-sleeved shirt (sleeves rolled up) because, well, work. Which is good - work is good - but at the same time, I keep getting whiffs of long-ago, far-away things, like Cornerstone and camp and... Illinois. The smell of the sun on a patch of gravel, interspersed with weeds, for instance. This kills me. But for the time being (maybe for a long time being), summer vacations, even the ones that are a week long and not 3 months long, are not a part of my existence. But I wouldn't mind heading to a park and traipsing around, even hanging out w/some ticks if that means I can soak up some non-urban non-work non-winter vibe. (Not that I'm dissing urban. I am definitely an urban person by majority.) (Whatever that means. But you know.)
Last weekend, as previously discussed (last weekend), I ventured to actually wear non-work and non-yoga pants clothes (yoga pants is more than a mere garment, let it be known - though it is not a legit outfit in my opinion).
Jewels. Let it also be known that I'm going to try to do the same thing this weekend, although it's going to be writing-tastic. Supremely so. Though I do hope to go hang out with some ticks (if that's what it takes). (It Takes a Tick: A Memoir by Arwen Mitchell)
I was looking at my PhotoBooth photos the other night and as usual when I do this, I discover that a year, or even two years prior, I don't look all that different than I do now. What can I say. My turkey-neck has been consistent these past... 10 years? Yep. I don't feel bad about it (total Ephron nod). I did. And I will. But not right now. PEACE.
In case you were wondering what my house would look like if I was left to my own devices, here is another pic of Mally's, this time part of the interior:
LET IT BE KNOWN that I was sitting on the "carousel" part that revolves. It was empty when I got there and full when I left, and I was wearing the same clothes as above, and my sunglasses, and I was by myself, so therefore I was stared at, probably because other people might wonder who does that - who goes to Mally's alone and writes? ME. No apologies, ever. I could make a case for the blinding vision of the pink elephant head requiring the sunglasses, though. (But I won't.)
I don't think I mentioned, here, buying a lot of 30+ vintage Avon catalogs from the early-to-mid-70's (with an attendant HILARIOUS message from the seller who talked at length about Cleveland's football situation. Talked in math, basically). (See what I did, there?)
Well, I bought them. Research. (I love my version of research.) (It's real.) (I'm serious.) I've gotten through about half of them, and while they 100% delight me they also are ridiculous. I had the theory, before, that Hallmark and Avon are largely to blame for the extreme proliferation of totally worthless consumer items over the last 60+ years (an untested theory, might I add), but looking at these catalogs just hit it home that much more. The editorial copy is hilarious. Example:
This is not a singular example. Nearly every issue has fresh new ways of packaging cologne, bath oil, "creme sachets", dusting powder, "fragrance demi-stiks", "perfume glace", etc. And that's just for women's fragrances. There's also a major push in all of them to buy stuff for the dudes. Whereas women get butter-churns and armoires and chipper animals in glass and metal shapes, the dudes get Benjamin Franklin's torso, pipes, antique cars, etc. I see Avon items at thrift stores occasionally, and I have occasionally bought them (I mean it when I said I'm delighted), but I have no interest in old men's cologne in a decanter shaped like a Model T. And I see at lot more of the men's stuff than women's. I just imagine some woman going after her nonplussed husband after the Avon lady drops off her purchase, trying to get him to care about his aftershave packaging. My feminist self cringes in bittersweet amusement and my nostalgic self does THE EXACT SAME THING. (Cringes. Not go after a dude with aftershave.)
Let it be known that I will never do that. Even if Avon tells me that:
I ALWAYS WEAR FRAGRANCE. :)