Wardrobe Malfunctions

If you saw "Working Girl" with Melanie Griffith, you may remember the scene of Melanie in her undies wearing something called "Thigh High" stockings.

When I saw this movie back in 1988, I was totally intrigued!  Keep in mind that when I was coming up and getting old enough for stockings and high heels, the only option to keep up one's "nylons" was a garter belt or a girdle.  This just looked a lot better to my way of thinking!  Pantyhose had not been an option until about the late 60's when mini skirts made their first appearance.

Pantyhose at first seemed to me to be a bit like wearing long johns.  Only when I started wearing the very short skirts did I switch over to pantyhose.  But I always found them ugly and uncomfortable.

In my early 40's, I had a new husband and a desire to keep him happy.  I figured one way to keep a smile on his face was to start wearing these new fangled "thigh high" contraptions. 

Alex worked in the East Bay and I worked in San Francisco.  We had a house in a sort of run down area of San Francisco.  Oh, the house was nice enough, but the neighborhood was a bit on the blighted side.  Never mind.  When ever I live in a bad area, I get to know all of my gangster neighbors.  Better yet, I get to know their favorite sports teams, their kids, their baby mamas, and all their names.  Walking along at dusk on my way home, calling out to "Spider", "Gonzo" and "Big Ed" and inquiring about their families and such kept me pretty damn safe.  (See, I can blend in like that.)  I would run down to the corner store at midnight for a little somethin' somethin' and run into most of the people from the neighborhood either milling about at the store or on the pay phone next to the store.  It never occurred to me to be afraid of my neighbors.  I really had no reason to be. (It did seem a little weird that many of my neighbors liked to hang out at corner stores at midnight, but then I was there too so it must not be that big a deal.)

As you can see, I get sidetracked kind of easy.  Anyway, I bought a bunch of these thigh high stockings and wore them to work every day under my little stylish business suit.  The breeze hit me just right as I walked along in my skirts.  (You girls will understand what I mean.)  Everything was good in my world.

Until the day that it wasn't.  It was summertime.  And hot.  I was walking from the train to my house about 5 in the afternoon.  All of my gangster neighbors were out in their front yards or on their front steps on this warm afternoon.  They called out to me as I approached and I waved at them and grinned.  Then I got a really funny sensation at the top of my leg.  It felt like a hard snap.  The elastic on my thigh high stocking had popped.

Immediately, I slowed down my perky walk to a sort of knock kneed shuffle.  I was trying to keep the stocking up on my leg until I got passed the people on the street.  I kept moving and felt the damn stocking fall down to my ankle.  Of course, I just kept walking and wondered if anybody actually noticed.  I mean these people were gangsters, not the fashion police, right?

I was sweating and cussing by the time I made it to my front door.  I went in the house and tossed out every pair of those frigging 'thigh high" stockings.  Oh, and I moved to Alameda right after that too.

Hank Jr. Has A Point

"I like to play good music and have a good time 

I love to hear old trains rolling down the line 

I am into happy and I don't like sad 

And I like to have women I never had"...

 Alex is on his way to Las Vegas.  He's got meetings tomorrow there.  Uh huh.

Seems to me, there's a lot of hanky panky in Sin City.  But I really don't worry about Alex too much.  He's really not that much of a hanky panky kind of guy.  I'm more likely to get into trouble than he is.  I get bored when my husband is away.  I'm sometimes tempted to light a small fire just for the excitement of being able to call the fire department.  Know what I mean? Now, okay, I've never actually done that, but it has crossed my mind.

There is something that is so tempting about something new, isn't there?  Whether it's a new dress or a new "friend", it's just so fun to unwrap a new package.  After I've worn the dress, usually I think about tossing it or donating it.  Where's the surprise!  Where is the excitement!

I told Alex to try and catch the Britney show while he's in Vegas.  I understand she's the hottest ticket in town.

I think I'll just mix myself a little Jack and Coke and listen to Hank.

My Own Special Island

Before you go thinking I'm all materialistic and such, let me explain.  Okay, I'm all materialistic and such.

Really I am not.  But the truth is where I used to look at a divine man and think I had to have him, not so much anymore.  Now I probably look at a superb item and think "I will die unless I get that!".  (See, I usually got my man, but somewhere in my brain, I really always knew I would not die if I didn't.)

As part of the kitchen remodel, Alex and I determined that we would need a new kitchen island.  The one we had was "okay" but not special.  I went on-line to Pottery Barn, Williams Sonoma, and various other sites.  Williams Sonoma had this posh island called "Bastille" and after I saw it, I quit even looking.

This island was not like the others.  In the first place, it was really "posh" and I do love posh.  On the down side, it also cost about 500 times more than any kitchen island I had ever even heard of.  (Okay, slight exaggeration, but not much.)  I had to have this island.  Alex looked doubtful at first.  Yes, I whined and cried and pestered and offered exotic personal thrills and treats to him until he gave up and told me "order it!".  Shoot!  He didn't have to say that twice.

I ordered the island on September 12th, being told there was a 6 to 8 week lead time as the islands are individually made.  I was sure we would have it by Thanksgiving.  I was wrong.  Then I was sure we'd have it by Christmas.  Again I was wrong.  New Years maybe!  Uh no.

Patience is not one of my many virtues, actually, I'm not sure I have that many virtues if I really think about it..  I called.  I nagged.  I pestered the service people at Williams Sonoma until I know they tried to avoid picking up the phone if they even suspected it was me.

My posh island finally arrived today in all its glory, and it is pretty glorious.  I plan to spend a lot of time admiring it, polishing it, and even using it.  I know that unlike some old boyfriends I could name (but won't of course), I will not tire of this island after a couple of sessions with it.

Too Damn Cool For School

Just when I was getting all excited about my remodeled kitchen, I hit a wall.

That's right.  A wall hit me smack in the face.  We had a dinner guest last night and he is about the least picky guy I have ever known.  Nelson used to be my next door neighbor and now he's my bestie!  He is never critical of me or anything I do.  (I love that in a man.)

There are a couple of things queued to be done in the kitchen.  We are waiting for the delivery of my 'POSH" island and for my contractor, Guy, do put in the stove hood and some cabinets around the stove.  No biggie, right

We invited Nelson to dinner last night.  I had home made turkey soup and a salad with a fresh loaf of French bread.  Alex wanted us to eat in the kitchen after Nel helped him move the existing Cost Plus island out into the backyard until we decide what to do with it.

Alex left on a two week trip this morning to the East Coast.  The island is solid wood and weighs about 1 million pounds so I was not about to try and help him move it.  The POSH island is supposed to arrive next week after fabrication in France, Italy or Turkey or somewhere equally POSH. 

Anyhoo, Alex pulled out a "card table" and stuck it in the middle of our now fairly bare kitchen and we had dinner there last night.  It was the ugliest thing I've ever seen.  It still is. Even Nelson looked horrified!

But, I have to have a place to stick things.  I am just resigned to realizing my kitchen is not too cool for school yet.

Working Men

 I admit it.  I am a sucker for a pretty face.

I've never found suit and tie men particularly attractive.  I like a guy who is not afraid to get his hands dirty.  I also love men who work hard at physical labor to support their family.  I find that extremely attractive!

I also am partial to Mexican men.  They are almost without exception good looking and courteous.

I first met Edgar and Omar when they showed up almost an hour late to powerwash my house four weeks ago.  I had been dealing with electricians, interior painters, color consultants, appliance deliveries, and a wide breadth of contractors who either showed up late or not at all.  I was fuming when I went out to talk to the guys and yell at them for being late.

Edgar, the guy in the top photo, just laughed as I raged at his brother, Omar, (middle of bottom photo).  Omar was trying to explain that a piece of equipment had been broken and had to be replaced and that he was sorry.  I ranted for a couple more minutes until Edgar's good humor had me laughing too. 

I asked the painters, "Are you guys Mexican?" and they replied that they were.  I told them I am Mexican too, and they seemed a bit surprised.  To me, this sealed the deal.  From that moment on, these young Mexican men were more family than strangers.

Two more guys, Antonio and Luis, came to join them a couple of days later.  They were both very nice too.  These guys worked their butts off from 8:00 AM to 7:00 PM, scraping and patching this old house to get it ready for painting.  They all wore what looked like Hazmat suits and masks because this is dirty hard and dangerous work.  After the scaffolding went up, the men would perform high wire acts outside the windows of our two story (with full basement) home.  They flew up the side of the house like Spiderman!

Their radios played from 8:00 AM until night time and I listened to Mexican music while the guys sometimes sang along.  I loved that they seemed to work so well together and there was a good deal of laughing as they toiled.

On Fridays and Saturdays, after they had worked for about 11 hours, we brought them a twelve pack of beer.  They sat in the backyard, sometimes with a little television on and watched their beloved soccer while drinking Coronas and talking.  (We later found out they actually enjoyed Belgium beer even more and so we switched it up.)  After the first couple of times, Alex and I joined them for a drink before they packed up for the night.

Initially, I had worried a little that Edgar and Luis (lower photo, far right) might be under age, but then when I questioned them, Edgar is 27 and Luis is 24.  So I wasn't breaking the law after all.

After four weeks, the painting is complete.  We are delighted with the marvelous job these guys did in painting the outside of this 1880 Victorian home.  They were meticulous and professional.  They were funny and charming. 

And yes, they were a treat for my eyes too! 

I Am So Fancy!

Now, in two weeks, I can present to you heart shaped ice cubes from my new fancy refrigerator on top of a new black granite countertop.

By that time, I should have the kitchen paint completed, the new oiled bronze pulls and knobs on the cabinets, and the new sink installed.  For that matter, by that time I should have the painting of the exterior of our house completed too.

The painters had scaffolding put up today.  That was nerve wracking.  The painters have sealed my windows from the outside today.  That was nerve wracking too.

I have about ten Mexican house painters working from about 7:30 AM until 6:30 PM.  The job is two weeks behind schedule and if they could work overnight, I think they would.  (This work needs to be done before the rains start.)  This schedule is nerve wracking too.

My inside the house contractor didn't show up today.  Guy is wonderful, but I don't always understand him on the telephone because of his Chinese accent.  I think he told me he would come tomorrow.  I hope he does because having my kitchen "gone" is nerve wracking too. 

I think I broke my little toe when I stubbed it on painting equipment a couple of days ago.  I don't need to tell you how I feel about this development.

Guy is currently painting the kitchen a lovely shade called "Pale Green Tea" made by a company called Mythic Paints.  They are a "green" company, or as Alex calls it "Obama Paint".  I just hope the greenie paint covers as well as the poison paint.

This "Pale Green Tea" is not green paint.  Well, it's actually more yellow than green, but so is "Weak Green Tea" but that wouldn't have the same ring to it, would it?  A girlfriend (interior designer) had recommended that I paint the kitchen "Chai Latte", and I loved the name, but alas, did not love the slightly orangey color.  Now she's upset because I didn't take her advice.  Oh well. 

I find that all the home improvements are giving me anxiety issues.  I hate chaos with a passion.  To calm down, I think I'll go pour some tequila over my heart shaped ice cubes.

Cheers!

The Beautiful People Toilet

You may already know, I'm having some remodeling done.  We have a new floor, new paint, a new sink and a new toilet in one of our bathrooms.

We bought a toilet from Home Depot and on the way home, I told Alex I wanted to drop by the Jack London Kitchen and Bath showroom just to get some ideas.

When we walked in, there were about 15 toilets right near the entry, all of them rather upscale looking.  There was a sign that said "All Display Toilets $100".  Well, goodness me!

We had just paid about $200 at Home Depot for a toilet.  This was a much better deal.  Alex wanted a rather squared off looking toilet and I agreed that it was nice.  It turns out this is actually a $700 toilet.

I never imagined such an expensive toilet even existed.  I mean really!  Isn't a toilet just a toilet?  Yeah, this was "stylish", but I had never even considered a "stylish" toilet.  Go figure.

So after owning the Home Depot toilet for about a half hour, Alex returned it to the store.  The sales clerk seemed surprised that he was returning a toilet after a half hour.  He said she looked at him suspiciously.  (I think he's paranoid.)

Since I don't spend a lot of time thinking about toilets (at least until now), it never occurred to me that this toilet's dimensions might not be the same as our previous toilet which was sadly somewhat broken.  After Guy, my contractor, installed the toilet, he called me in and told me that it was too close to the wall.  Apparently, the toilet was larger than the one we were discarding.

Since the hole in the floor for the toilet was there already, there really wasn't much that could be done.  I went over and sat on the toilet and said, "Well, it's fine for me!"  Guy agreed, but added, "Not a place for big people though," and he was right.

When Alex arrived home, I pointed out the problem to him and in his usual optimistic way he said, "Well, we'll just tell everyone this toilet is only for the beautiful people!"