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manifestos

Miss Franklin, We Have to Talk

manifestos April 20, 2017

Picture this. Lavender Lane, 5:30am.

Queen of Craptastical (ahem), is sweeping up piles of dog hair and scrubbing a toilet. You know, living the glamorous life.

The 5 Hour Energy not nearly kicked in, I decided to layer some good music to my morning. Naturally, I yelled out to Alexa “Play Aretha.”

Alexa and I are on a first name basis with Miss Franklin in the morning, by the way.

So, RESPECT comes on, and it gets me shaking my money maker as I am silently cursing owning not one but two dogs of labradorian lineage. I’m singing at the top of my lungs :

“Or you might walk in (respect, just a little bit)
And find out I’m gone (just a little bit)
I got to have (just a little bit)
A little respect (just a little bit)”

It felt good. Empowering. A woman who takes no shit. A woman who will call a 21 year old in the dead of the night during a snow storm to go pick up something to eat. THAT, in itself is another story.

So, I was feeling my morning groove Miss Franklin. Feeling it. Scrubbing the house. Mentally making a plan for the day. Getting ready to go kick some ass, take names and blah blah blah. I was getting ready to take the bad dog for a walk when this gem comes on the Echo:

And Miss Franklin, I’m sorry, but this song made me ANGRY.

You are Aretha EFFING FRANKLIN. You don’t tap on some schmucks door that walked out. YOU walk away.  I have loved this song my ENTIRE life. I never really listened to the lyrics before. I mean, I knew the lyrics by heart, but I never really paid attention until this morning. Miss Franklin, I got angry.

You are a bad ass. You do not:

“I’m gonna swallow my pride
I’m gonna beg you to (please baby please) see me”

Screw that.

Context:

I’ve spent the better part of my adult waiting for some schmuck to come back to me. There, I said it. I waited for him to magically realize that I was the one. I tolerated so much bad behavior out of the modern day Peter Pan that it embarrasses me. My musical hero has basically always told me that I should just wait until he comes back. That I should just say a little prayer for him. Miss Franklin, I don’t understand how you can belt out RESPECT in one breath and then croon the following:

“Living for you my dear
Is like living in a world of constant fear
In my plea, I’ve got to make you see
That our love is dying
Although your phone you ignore”

 

Listening to these songs this morning with open ears is a little bit like finding out that Santa Claus is just really your OCD mother who spends hours obsessively wrapping everything in white tissue paper. It’s just kind of a let down. I know it’s just music. I know this is your job to entertain.

Frankly, the message sucks.

As a single female, we get a ton of shit tossed our ways. The side glances, the pity. The lack of invitations to couples weekends. The “your standards are too high.” “You are too picky.” OH MY GOD, the list goes on and on and on. We are constantly told that we will not be complete until we have some partner that fulfills our plus one. It’s the societal norm ya know. Forget the fact that guys do NOT get the same level of shit for being equally single.

It just kinda sucks to hear you singing :

“Why did you have to decide
You had to set me free
I’m gonna swallow my pride
I’m gonna beg you to (please baby please) see me”

No, I’m not going to swallow my pride. Screw that. If some dude wants to see me, he knows where to find me. Miss Franklin, I’m kinda done with this shit.

ps.. you know I still love you long time and I will happily deliver a canned ham basket to you any day. Just say the word. I apologize for my tone, but this just made me hangry. Have a good day Miss Franklin. I hope you are fabulous.

 

Signed,

Feeling Sassy

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friendships over easy

manifestos February 19, 2017

I lay here on this dreary Sunday morning, wondering to myself if the dampness is causing my ankle to ache more (yes, it is.)

I message to my friend John the following question “is it a nap, or just going back to sleep if I am thinking about it at 8 am?” We conclude that if I’ve been up longer than 2 hours, it is indeed a nap, otherwise, I’m just going back to bed. Considering the fact that I’ve only left bed to let the pups out and feed the beasts, I think it’s fair to say after I hit send on this ramble, I will most likely go back to bed. That is a good friend that helps me justify a 9 am nap!

I experienced something on Thursday that I’m still thinking about 3 days later. I jumped on the phone with my friend Gina, a woman that I’ve known for eleventy million years, but for the life of me, literally can’t figure out the last time we talked voice to voice. Thanks to Facebook, we keep up with each other’s lives and have maintained a friendship over the years. What I still can’t stop thinking about though is how absolutely effortless it was to get on the phone with her. To pick up a verbal conversation like we had never missed a beat.

I love this about my people. Real, genuine conversations. I am the same way with a handful of people, able pick up at any point in life and just keep going.  They know I love them even if I am an asshole and don’t call for months on end. Life gets lifey. Sometimes, it’s just hard to pick up the phone and ramble.

I love that with some people, I don’t need to have that constant interaction for them to know that I still give a shit. I don’t need to talk to someone every day to consider myself part of their lives, or they, mine.

I love easy conversation. Thoughtful conversation, or sometimes, friendships that require no words.

Not every friend interaction has to be a major event. Not everything has to be Instagram worthy, although, it is nice to have the memories.  (Refer back to yesterday’s Insta feed)

It is nice to have the friendships that are various, random and not always making sense.

sidenote:

Since I started writing this post, I absolutely went all A.D.D.- wrote my meal plan for the week, ordered a pair of pants, and donated money to two different charities that support the Parks AND Women’s health.

Back to my point… what was it again? OH YES.

Friendships. I’m not nearly perfect in the friendship department, in fact, at times, I totally suck. I don’t listen enough and sometimes go AWOL for extended periods of time. The thing is, if the base of the friendship is good, it doesn’t matter at all.

As I grow older, I try to be a better friend. I try to be less of an asshole and find myself wanting to deal with less asshattery in general.

So, cheers to a Sunday filled with few assholes, good friends, and our democracy.

ps- I’m on week two of skipping the Sunday shows. I’m not skipping them because I think they are fake news (they are most certainly not), but I’m skipping them because I like my Sundays to be like Lionel Richie… easy.

 

 

 

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Things That Make Me Happy.

What Makes You Happy?

manifestos January 29, 2017

Greetings and Salutations.

My friend Leslie gave me a book for Christmas called “52 Lists for Happiness” and I decided to parlay that into a blog project of sorts. Additionally, I have created a self-mandate to blog at least once a week on Sunday, and I’ve already #bigly failed at that, so I decided to write this grammatical nightmare of a sentence and work on a list. WHOA. HORRIBLE GRAMMAR. Next blog post “why I should never write for a living.”

Today’s list “Things That Make Me Happy.”

 

  • George, the dog is less awful than he was 2 months ago. I mean, there is absolute progress. In fact, he was almost awesome today. I say almost because while talking to my buddy John this morning, a fire truck drove by. Every dog in the neighborhood started barking. George, my half basset/half lab dug deep inside himself and started this slow, horrible howl song that made me actually yell and him and say “STOP THAT OH SWEET BABY JESUS DONT LEARN HOW TO HOWL.” But ya, he is less awful than he was before.  To see more of Georges adventures, why not follow me on Instagram and keep up with the #dailydogjeffersons antics. http://bit.ly/instakatethegreat
  • I love cozy pjs. Soft, cozy pjs. I’m rocking some amazing leisure wear tonight and that makes me happy.
  • I do believe I have perfected the Zehnder’s buttered noodle recipe. It’s really not complicated, but it’s cozy and delicious and probably reason #459 why I am the size of a small planet. What is Zehenders you ask? I feel like that should be it’s own blog post, but for right now, read THIS.
  • I purged my closet (again.) I know what I have, what I am likely to wear and have a big pile of clothes ready to go be donated. If I keep passing this stuff by, there is literally no point in keeping it. PLUS, my closets are not big enough to have a wardrobe of multiple sizes/seasons/clothes that I may or may not ever wear again. Plus, I need to shrink my ass out of these clothes and then treat myself to new things. So ya. Um. Purged my closet today.
  • Slug Sundays are my favorite. Minimal human interaction. Unapologetic naps. Cozy clothes and yummy food. Naps. Did I mention naps?
  • Friends. Duh. As Bette would say “you’ve got to have friends…”

So, friends, random strangers from the Interwebs and those who quietly consume what I read, but never pick up and call… WHAT MAKES YOU HAPPY?

 

 

 

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a dream is a wish

manifestos January 8, 2017

For the love of all that is good and holy, the past 7 days, or rather the first 7 days of this spanking new year has totally sucked.

I could extrapolate on the fact that yesterday, I watched the casket lid close on my friend Amys sweet face, but I won’t.

I could talk about Weezie being a nutbag after getting into a scrap last week, but I won’t.

I also won’t bitch about the fact that there is something significantly wrong with the drain from my washing machine to the outdoors. NO one needs to hear about that.

Instead, on this, the 8th day of 2017, 58 days until I hit my 40th year, I choose to try to bring myself up from the gutter and find some good.

I find good in the company of those with whom I brunched today.

I find good in the fact that our waiter did not appear to think I was the ugliest girl in puppet land, despite the fact that he was a child.

I find good in the fact that my heat works, my dogs didn’t destroy anything while I was trying to drink away the hell of the week.

I find good in the fact that I ate chips & dip tonight for dinner. I mean, I know, I know, I need to do better, but I needed something fast and easy and it was there.

I find good in the fact that I’m sitting here admiring Christmas Tree # 2 as I compose this Pulitzer-winning prose.

I find good in the fact that something has snapped in this brain of mine, and I just don’t give a shit about stupid things anymore. Don’t you like me? That’s ok. Don’t you invite me to your shit? That’s ok. I’m not going to get butt hurt by exclusions this year, but I do know that I daresay will try less to please other people. I’ve spent most of my life pleasing people and where has that gotten me? Relationships work both ways. You give, you take. There should be a balance. If there is not balance, something is indeed off and needs to be analyzed. Bear with me as I gain my sea legs, but I am finally have come to the long overdue realization that relationships, either emotional, sexual, or friendly should be equally reciprocal. Period, end of story. If they are not, perhaps they need some thought and adjustment. Life is too short to not be happy.

This year. Oh, this year. I’m going to do things differently this year. Truthfully, it has less to do with the 40-year number, rather than I am just sick to death of trying to please others all the damn time. I think that straw broke a few months ago, and I finally am ready to do something about it.

It’s time to get a life.
It’s time to get my groove back.

And finally, I can’t stop thinking about this song:

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