Cooler than You: Stupid Things I Say and Do

As the air chills, well freefall to six degrees above freezing, I find myself drinking tea in my favorite NYC cup with fuzzy socks on and my favorite university pullover.  My hair is up in a messy bun, and since I'm not planning on washing it tonight, the said style should make it bouncy for tomorrow.  Or . . . Or it will be a dry shampoo Monday, which sets an entirely new tune for the week.  You probably think I'm listening to rap and white girl rolling it out.  Not today, my friends.  It's late on a Sunday.  Sunday's are no place for rap.  Mondays, now, are a different story.  Instead, I've got an even whiter mix of mellow and slow songs going that I've had on repeat for two days.  I make no apologies, as sometimes we just need the same twenty songs to move us along.  Sometimes.  This is all sounding pretty white bougie right now.  I probably shouldn't tell you I had a gluten-free blueberry bagel this mo...

As September cools, and fall begins to awaken, I sit here looking back with a trigger finger gettin' lose and ready on the match.  September, far worse than August, was a surly little chic in too small heels.  Okay, that's a little kind.  She was a surly chick in too small heals needing carbs and a puppy for all the attention she demanded.  Y'all, September needs its own zip code for the love it needs these days.   August might have tried my soul, but damn at least she gave me some breathers and pleasant moments of remiss.  You know, like when the one-time beau met up with me in Denver with a lolli instead of flowers. Yeah, in an aside, pot is legal in Colorado--if you did not know--and so that lolli was a mango flavored THC laden fairy princess ride.  Of course, what I should also remind you is that when one consumes a lolli one should not partake of the entire thing at once and while alone.  Okay, you can . . . But, ya kno...

In what feels like the passing of a few years of yesterdays sunsets and roadways of Left Coast Greyhound rides and trains through the mountains have turned into the fading colors and brightly hued sunsets of an East Coast fall with sunflowers between sun's rays and around the corner of protruding Halloween decorations.  If we pause to blink we will surely miss it as Christmas will erupt upon our collective souls before Thanksgiving has come or even settled in our bulging stomachs.   After six weeks of living from a suitcase, a carry on, and one large backpack the need and desire to roll around in piles of clothes has fallen to the wayside.  More like, the accruements of a capsule wardrobe are still enveloping me and the resting of ideals of using less, writing more, and finding a greater balance and return on take home pay threaten to become dethroned with the pressings of life and need to pay rent.  There's probably a deeper analogy embedded in those bags;...

So, I'm the type of gal to wear pearls with blue jeans.  Yes, that is true.  Really, if you've read anything on here then it shouldn't be a shock.  Thus, my saying I made a Jackie O style coat . . . well, before you raise your eyebrow and say "Hey, that ain't what you normally wear," remember the pearls and jeans.   Thus, I made a Jackie O.  And I wore it with jeans.  Faded, should be retired, jeans.  And Converse kicks.  And a wool knit tee.   Yea. I redefine classy.   That was me on an Instagram shot.  Snazzy, I know.   I mean, look at that . . . isn't she a beauty? That coat, fits like a dream.  Of course, I wore it open all day as it was almost too warm for it . . . but it being NYC and fall, well . . . yea, coat one minute, the next half naked.  Repeat all day.   My hair decided to go '90s retro and pretend my grunge days of Nirvana love were in town.  Ignore the unruly man...

Since my postings got changed last week, I updated this one before I posted.  Enjoy. As I've made note, around here , that I absolutely love fall it should be no surprise that the changing of the leaves bring an indescribable delight to me.  Along the way, though, the summer rolled into an Indian Summer that we relished as we saw extended tomatoes at the farmer's market and went kayaking another time.  The bliss of summer extended for a momentary limbo of extended transition. Night kayaking along the Hudson . . . the city really does look like a Gotham delight here.   Those yellow jackets do us no favors, but the water was sublime . . . gentle rolls of tidal splashes from boat traffic and seasonal change made the warm salty Hudson lap onto our kayaks.  Rocking us along.   In the moonlight I look like your ghostly captain.   The Tania I never blogged about here, in a fabric my Mom gave me from her stash.  It's grossl...