This weekend, I did something I haven’t done since my twenties.  I went out everyday and night and partied into the wee hours.

Today I’m paying.  For it.

Saturday morning it started early.  For we were Strawberry Festival Parade Marchers.  Zill marched in a two-layer, black uniform for three miles, in the blazing sun, swinging and blooting her trombone.

She was incredibly thoughtful.  Because.  To make sure I would have as much fun as she was having, she volunteered me to be film-o-mom-grapher, also dressed in black.  And, um.  Platform shoes.  The only comfortable black shoes I own besides boots and Heelies.

Nevermind that I never really used my camcorder.  I had one.  And had to learn it in like five minutes.

Yeah.  I didn’t do my prep work.  Because.  I didn’t know that red meant “film-o-progress” and green meant “film-o-pause”.  But after I recorded the street and my shoes a few times, I figured it out.  Before the parade started, too.  Go me!  And, um.  Zill.  Who told me how to work da ting!

Also, my pre-knowledge of Strawberry Festival Parade Marching did not include the fact that I would be running circles around the 150+ member of band/orchestra, filming from all angles.

I should have worn the Heelies, huh?  But again.  I didn’t do my prep work.  Because.  Though I own Heelies, I don’t know how to use them.

Yeah.  So.  It was hot.  Way hot.  And my quads and feet were on fire.  Feel the burn.  Somehow, I managed the race in heels without twisting my ankles.

And then.  Finally.

The Strawberry Festival Parade Marching was over.  Rest for my toasted tootsies.   Ahhhhh!

A little nap after that I needed, because a wine tasting event was planned for the evening.  Girls night ow-t.  Oh.  I would be home early, I assured my family.  Yeah.  Early, early in the morning.

They paid me back by awaking me seemingly moments after I fell asleep, so I could make Belgian waffles for the gang.  I almost fell asleep in the batter.

Good thing I caught a few zzzzzzzz’s in my breakfast.  Because.  Sunday night.  Was Sheila’s stand-up gig at the Comedy Store!  Yay Sheila!  I laughed so hard and so much, I laughed up my uvula.

Yeah.  I returned home early, early in the morning again.

Then today.

Macy woke me up at sunrise.  Not to make Belgian Waffles.  But for bladder relief.  It was like that Peed-Her-Pants movie with Tinkle-Bell.

I chugged a Rock Star to be A Lert.  Because the world needs more Lerts.  Also.  We had planned for a family of six drop in for a visit.

So.  I don’t know where my Brain is.  But I sure Funned it out of the Box this Weekend!

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Do you ever, like, forget stuff?  Like have something on the tip of your tongue, but you can’t quite remember what it was?  The title of a movie, a person’s name, what you needed at the store?  Or even worse… why did you walk into the closet of golf clubs again?  Do you golf?  No?  Me neither.  It made no sense to me.  Why was I there?

So, I had to do what I always do, when I forget why I’m somewhere with no purpose.  It’s so weird, but I have to walk back to the spot where I originated the thought, as if to pick up something I dropped.  And amazingly, the thought pops right back into my head!  Hopefully, I don’t drop it again.  I went to the golf closet because… I wanted to hide a rubber chicken in the woods.  Won’t my husband be surprised when he reaches in his bag for a driver and pulls out Earl instead?

I would be surprised.  How about you?  He’s a real swinger, Earl Chicken is,  though doesn’t look like he has much drive.  Someone should try this trick on Tiger.  If he found a chicken in his woods, or the woods of Woods, I’m sure TV coverage would pick up some real fancy talk like only Tiger can do!

So last night, I was thinking and thinking and thinking some more about this.  Not why I forgot about Earl in the golf closet, but why I forget stuff.  And to find the reason, I took a little trip into my mind, and what I saw was horrifying!

It was as if some kid was in my brain, which had somehow become a science lab.  And this kid had released a bunch of frogs from their jars.  “Don’t be a science experiment!  Run and be free!  Hop for your lives!  Hop away!  Hop away!”

So, like, that’s all very noble and all that.  But, dude, you just released a bunch of frogs in my head.  And they are hopping around and have no clue where they are.  There are Earl and Henrietta Chicken ideas hopping and squawking and croaking all over my brain.  Crazy pranks mixed in with accounting software procedures and what’s for dinner!

OMG!  Where is that kid?  Put those frogs back in their jars!  I won’t experiment on them or even eat them.

So I imagined the kid putting all the frogs back.  Back in the jars. Putting the jars back in their boxes.   Straightening things up.  Putting everything back in order…

Ah!  I can think again!  Or not… my mind is never in order!  I can’t think under these conditions.  Where is that kid?  Hey!  Dude!  Get those jars out of the box and release the frogs.   Escape the jars from the box!  Let there be fun! Free-for-all think-age.  Nothing like a load of amphibians in your brain to get your creative juices flowing!

Fun Your Way out of the Box!

Earl the chicken toy · frogs in jars · golf club closet

So last night I went with my a couple of my BFFs to watch another friend belly dance.

Wow.

So. I wasn’t expecting world class entertainment.  Because the event was in a nondescript strip mall in Anaheim.   But the advertisements declared otherwise.  The food was raved about.  But there were conflicting reviews on Yelp.  So.  I was expecting tasty eats.  Maybe.  And bad service.  Definitely.

And due to the type of entertainment, I was expecting a full-bar.  What I wasn’t expecting was Grey Goose in a plastic cup.   Good thing I don’t drink vodka.  Instead, I ordered wine in a plastic cup. Much more classy, plastic cup-wise. Except that they ran out of wine right before they got to me. So I had water. In a plastic bottle. Now we are talking classy!

And then they ran out of something in the food arena. We waited for the buffet line to die down. But it grew and grew. Then grew and grew some more. Where did all these people come from? I guess belly dancing buffet food is a big thing in Anaheim.

So we finally got food. And nobody mutinied. Or started a Jihad. The food was actually tasty and fresh. And there were plenty of veggies. Plenty of everything. Except wine. And they had water! So I’m not complaining.

But I digress.

So back to eating. Which was very good.  And then the dancing.  Which was very fun.  And the music.  Which was enchanting!

So. Again. I say I wasn’t expecting world class entertainment. And wasn’t shocked when what I got was, “Housewives Gone Harem!” Would that be a good reality show or what? Whoa!  The women had a lot of spirit, and obviously loved the dance.

Then one of the BFF’s got a little peeved, because one of the dancers was announced as a performer at 5-Star Hotels in Cairo.  She was actually very entertaining IMHO, but I’m not a belly dancing connoisseur.

Yo.

So if she was a 5-Star Cairo Dancer, my BFF said, so was my 12-year daughter, Zill. (Who does not play zills, BTW.)

Now I’ve belly dance classed with Zill, without zills, and a 5-Star Dancer, she ain’t! She popped me in the eye and the chin…. Thank goodness she didn’t have zills. Oh the scars she would have left. But. Ah. What memories.

Yet. Again. I digress.

The highlight of the night was the lady who danced with the burning candles on her head. She was really good!  I also really liked another dancer who was clinking her zills all over the place.  But I’m all about distracting noises like that!

And the second highlight was the lady who came out with a boa constrictor wrapped around her neck. Too bad she dumped the snake so soon. Because once it was gone, her performance choked.

Yeah.

So that was different.

So, really, it was different.  And fun.  My only caution is:  Announcer Lady, this was an adult dance recital.  Next time, keep that in mind.  Just let the Housewives Go Harem, and stop up-selling them as World Class Entertainment.

It’s not your fault that you didn’t know one of the BFF’s was a world-class traveling belly dancing connoisseur.    And yes, you may have been trying to make the dancers feel great, but it makes some audience members–your paying guests–feel uncomfortable and disgruntled.

The truth also makes wine in a plastic cup a little more tolerable.

Fun. Out of the Box. And different.

Where are my zills? I wanna be a Housewife Gone Harem!

belly dance · digress · fun · harem · out of the box

So what does that mean?

Very obtuse am I.

What happened is that 3 weeks ago for my bday partay, we made home-crafted beers at a local brewing pub called Brewbakers.  And yeah.  I don’t really drink.  And yeah.  Especially not beer.  But it sounded fun.  And Dennis, the owner is a really cool and funny guy.

So.  We went to Brewbakers and boiled over the stuff.  Trashing the place into a sticky feet mess.

And 3 weeks later, which was last Friday, I was supposed to pick up and bottle the stuff.  And I feebed, and never emailed Dennis a jpg of my labels.

So.  Whilst bottling.  My friend Desiree and I bottled, capped and drew labels for the beer.  And flirted with the guys in the place.

And a week later, we were still coloring the labels in.

So.  The moment of reckoning came.  And we were finally done coloring.  Oh, ye who act like 5-year-olds listen!  And.  Alas.  I was unable to peel the label off.

Ach!  Mon dieu!  What would the matter be?

It took three of us pulling and picking at the adhesive.  Only to find that we spent six hours drawing and coloring on the wrong side of the form!  Wow.

American workmanship.  We are thee!

That was a good laugh.

So I copied the labels and scanned and printed.  Problem solved.

Fun your way out of the box.  And have a beer.  Lebal on me.

american workmanship · fun your way out of the box · labels · moment of reckoning

Check out my friend Laurie’s slideshow of jewelry.  She makes these herself.  I can vouch for her meticulosity!  And if you want anything custom, like a mala, a dog collar, or anything else… she’ll make it for you in a flash!

Click here to see here stuff!

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Wow! Nothing like the magic of music!

So yesterday, I sang into my empty mailbox to fill it up with beauty rather than empty echoes.  And today it rewarded me with music to my eyes!

Yep!  I got paid.  Yay!

So today, I sang another song, “Danke Schoen”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xvQH9gqU4cE

Yeah.  I was so happy I sang it twice!

Fun my way out of the PO Box that’s for sure!

Danke Schoen

So, I have been waiting and waiting and waiting for some of my clients to pay me.  And everyday for the last week that I have gone to my PO Box, the checks that were supposed to be “in the mail” weren’t.  Nothing in the mailbox.  Empty and echoing.

Hey, wait.  That’s not nothing.  An echo is something, isn’t it?

Well, it isn’t exactly what I’m looking for, but I’ll go with it.

Today, was just as echo-y as the last week has been.  I decided not to take the nothing for granted, so I put something in the mailbox.  Something attractive.  So.  I sang into the mailbox, which you may or may not think is attractive, but my voice didn’t crack.

Here’s what I sang:

“I got plenty of nothin’, And nothin’s plenty for me!”

Of course some lady walked in right at that moment, pretending not to hear me.  She whipped out her key and upon opening her box, she found hers to be empty also. “Nothing?  Not again,” she sighed.

So I said I had nothing, too, but I was willing to share.

She smiled and said it was okay.  She had plenty enough of her own and didn’t want more.  She left, leaving me with all my nothing and nothing leftovers.  Looks like I wouldn’t have to cook nothing for dinner tonight.

So this got me thinking.  What is this nothing anyway?  Does nothingness really exist?  If it takes up space, then it is something.  And if it’s something you can think about, then Nothing can take on major substance.

Then there’s this.  If you ask some kid what he’s doing and he says, “Nothing,” you know damn well he IS doing something, and you better find out what it is speedy quick.

Now in this current economic situation, I’ve had well meaning souls say to me, “Money isn’t everything.”  I pondered that all the way home from the post office.  Wondering.  If money isn’t everything, than what is everything?”

And this was so weird, but a little voice in my head said, “Nothing.”

What!  Nothing is everything?!?!

“Yes,” said the voice.  “And Everything is nothing.”

Whoa.  That’s a mind blower!  Hard to get a grip on that one.

So I looked my nothing in the eye and laughed at it.  Offended, it ran away, leaving something behind.  An invoice!  Now that sure was something!

Another bill.  Yay!

In these tough economic times, stay hopeful.  I keep telling myself, it can’t last forever.  Remember ECON 101?  Professor P. stated that the economy is cyclical.

Cyclical sounds fun.  A bike is a cycle.   So I’m thinking about a bike going down a killer hill.  But not just any hill.  A big hill of okra.   Slimy and gooey and great in gumbo.

And then I thought of a spinning wheel, pricking my finger and falling fast asleep like Sleeping Beauty.

And then another Spinning Wheel popped into my dream.  What goes up, must come down…

And I dreamed of blood, sweat and tears.  And a hippy hairdo in a tie-dye shirt.

Or the Wheel of Fortune.  Yo Vanna!

This post can’t last forever, and neither will this down cycle.  Eventually it has to go up again.  So tighten your belt another notch.  And laugh that you are finally fitting into a Size 4!

And the bonus:  Laughter costs nothing but makes you feel like a million bucks.

Fun Your Way out of the Box.  Or not.  Either way it’s still a box.

feel like a million bucks · laughter is the best medicine · positive thinking

So I don’t know if you have one, but I have that negative critic within.

Maybe because my ideas are a little, um, uh, different, and always have been.  There have always been very real and negative critics surrounding me.  And somehow, I allowed them in and they came to live within me.

Today, I decided to kick them out.

They didn’t exactly budge.

So I did the next best thing.  I put myself within the cone of conversion and changed those critics into something, um, uh, different.  I changed them into barking walruses.

And also this.  Walrus Plays the Sax:

I feel much better, because I can’t understand a word the walruses are saying.  But they are very cute and funny looking.  And instead of feeling bad because of the criticism, I want to smile and laugh, because who ever thought of a walrus playing the sax?

So that’s today’s tip.  Hope you find it as helpful as I did.

Fun Your Way out of the Box!

cone of silence · conversion · fun · laugh · negative critic within · smile · walrus plays the sax

It’s May.  And it’s sooooooooooo nice to see the sun shining and feel the warmth of its rays.  I don’t know about you, but today’s sunshine is a very welcome presence for me, because somehow, over the last few weeks, I landed in a box of winter.  In the midst of spring.

Yeah.  I live in Southern California.  I know.  Youse guys back east are gonna tell me that I don’t know what winter is.  Okay, so I left sub-zero temps when I moved out here as a teenager, and rarely do I go anywhere below 60° Fahrenheit.  You got me there.

To clarify, it wasn’t a physical winter I experienced, but a winter of the soul and spirit.

I don’t know where this blustery and frigid season came from.  I can’t point my finger to any one instance and say, “Aha!  Dat is what caused dis miserable sleet, freezing rain and bitter cold!”

Nope.  I have no clue.

It just hit me.  Wham!

And all I seemed able to do was sit huddled in my box, bundled in layers of clothing and blankets, immovable.

Well, I did move a little.  Actually, quite a bit of moving did I.  I’m kind of hyper and don’t do the sit still thing very well.  So to everyone else, it may not have looked like it from the outside, but inside I was a frozen iceberg.  Ready to crash and sink the Titanic.

Now, I generally don’t do well with these kinds of moods.  I tend to kick myself in the butt and pull myself out of the hole rather quickly.  And especially when there is no reason to be feeling blue… I have no patience for myself when that happens.

But this time, I could not shake the feeling for long.  It was like a cloak that was somehow tangled upon me that would not shake loose.

After dealing with this tangled nuisance for weeks, and since it wouldn’t shake loose, I decided a couple of days ago to just go about my business and ignore it.  Ignore the cloak of winter.  Ignore my inner iceberg.  In hopes that it would turn into something more nutritious like romaine.  (Iceberg is crunchy, but non-sustaining.)

So I decided to make my insides more nutritious, and went through the motions.  The motions of fun.  Me.  Can you believe that?  Me needed helping to Fun My Way Out of the Box?  Sheesh!

Yo.  So.  Yesterday, I hung out with Fun Friends!  At Brewbakers.   Thank you Desiree for joining me in Beer Bottling.  And Dennis, you always make me laugh!  And Christine, Mark, Brad, Judy and all the other Brewbakers regulars who make this place such a cool and friendly hang out!

And thank you sunshine!  I’m melting.  Melting.  See ya later Wicked Witch of the West.  Next time, watch out, or I’ll drop a house on you!

Get out of Iceland.  Escape and explode your icebergs.  Fun Your Way out of the Box!

beer · brewbakers · iceberg · iceland · sheesh · sunshine · titanic · vocanic icebergs · wicked witch of the west

Spring Fever Your Way Out of the Box!  Please respond at the evite page or email vicky@sliqueproductions.com

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