random stuff...

things racing around my head this morning...

john mccain says folks so much i've got a tick.

a women called in to a radio show, said she works for the death star (wal-mart) and that a bunch of people she works with are going to vote for sarah palin cuz she's purdy. that repulses me.

i'm thinking about signing up my cat for radioiodine treatment because i can't afford his damn meds, and i've read that it's a great treatment for hyperthyroidism. but that whole radio active element is a little concerning.

i accidentally became the center of my weight watchers meeting because i achieved a goal and spilled it that i've lost nearly 70 pounds, i'm 5 pounds from my goal and my reward to myself is a stupidly expensive belly dance costume. good gawd, they asked me to wear it for them and dance.

there are entirely too many things on my list to do, and i'm becoming a chronic procrastinator.

i'm looking at the envelope that holds the statement of my pathetic, measly investments and i'm going to file it without opening it.

"they" say the democrats are fighting back, but i haven't heard it and i'd really, really like to.

i'm really miffed that there were rumblings about the AIG junket, but they gave them more and i've not heard any more about getting paid back for that little fiasco.

and now, i desperately need to clean my apartment.

Figure drawing in 10 minutes sketches

from figure drawing--these are a couple 10 minutes sketches of our model, eric, at the end of week seven.

the pretty woman dress...

On June 30, 2006, I blogged that I’d lost 27 pounds and was walking around in some fat girls pants.

Today, October 8, 2008, I’ve lost 65 pounds and changed every single thing in my life twice.

I’m still 7 pounds from my goal. I took nearly a year off, gained 15 back and had to loose it again. But, that’s just the small potatoes.

I still don’t recognize myself walking by a mirror. I still go straight to Lane Bryant in the mall only to feel like a misfit when everything is too big.

I cannot speak for others, but for me, after a lifetime of shopping in the plus sizes, I feel completely lost and obvious in a store where the biggest size is 16. In fact, I look a little like a seven year old in a haunted house… utterly terrified.

Don’t get me wrong—I’m happy to be here and not complaining. I’m still getting used to the new me.

I have always romanticized the hell out of the movie Pretty Woman. I adore Julia Roberts' character, and well, that is my deep-rooted Cinderella story.

In the movie, Vivian wears a brown and white polka dotted dress that I think is fabulous. (click this blog title to see it.) When I would go shopping, I always looked for a dress like it, but never could find one that fit—you know where this is headed.

A few months ago, I saw this sassy little brown and white polka dotted dress and I got all dreamy. It looked just like the now mythic dress. On a lark, I took it into the dressing room. It didn’t just fit; it fit like Cinderella’s glass slipper.

I stood in that Macy’s dressing room and I cried.

I didn’t buy the dress. All I needed was that moment. My very own Pretty Woman moment right there in that tiny dressing room.

I learned that day that absolutely anything is possible--including me shopping at Ann Taylor Loft if I feel so inclined.

quote of the day

in regards to Sarah Palin's antics yesterday suggesting Obama is "palling around" with terriorists, Margo Howard said...

"Well, I’ll tell you what I see: a loud-mouth, loose-lipped nobody who is drunk on media attention and a quart low in the judgment department. I think both she and her aged "maverick" buddy owe Mr. Obama an apology for this one."

oh... that made my toes tingle... (click the blog entry title to read the whole beautiful column.)

big week for the female genes...

this year, i've tracked the moments of my life with a library of congress calendar called women who dare.

every sunday, i like to read the schnibbits on women's accomplishments throughout history. they are gentle weekly reminders to me that if i want to make that difference, whether subtle or spectacular, sitting on my laurels will not help me accomplish my dreams.

i thought that this week was worth sharing. many things to contemplate...

this weeks profile was a nice biography of Sally Ride describing her accomplishments as an astronaut, physicist and educator.

and the daily notables with my activities following...

monday... congress passes the equal credit opportunity act, i had belly dance class with an extensive conversation on the origins of the belly dance movement in the US.

tuesday... Angie Dickinson's birthday... figure drawing class.

wednesday... Julie Andrew's birthday... saw Ani DiFranco and thus a girl dream achieved.

thursday... one of my hero's Annie Leibovitz's birthday... Sarah Palin and Joe Biden vp debates (i spent two hours cringing and contemplating the phrase, "you've come a long way, baby").

friday... Emily Post's birthday... i caught up on some sleep.

saturday... Anne Rice's birthday (another of my heroes)... spend the day with one of my best friends and her daughter at mobot, and spent the evening in the company of the most charming and witty man.

sunday... Maya Lin's birthday... my options are open and the page is blank.

upon review, i think it's been a stellar, telling and complex week on the whole.

a backhanded screw...

woohooo! can i have your attention!

i just wanted to let you know that there is only a minimal increase in your benefits costs for 2009... that's right, just 3.8%. isn't that splendid? wow! we rock!

(your cost of living increase for 2009 will be 3%)

the answer is omelets...

have you ever seen runaway bride?

julia roberts' character finally falls for the right guy (richard gere), but ultimately she runs away.

why?

because she doesn't know what kind of eggs she likes.

it's a common problem for women. we sometimes forget who we are, or we never find out. instead we become what we think our boyfriends or husbands want us to be.

some women stop doing things, saying things, dressing certain ways. we tuck our identities away in a spiffy hope chest to pass on to our daughters.

it is much, much easier to pack away dreams than throwing on the brakes and cooking fifteen varieties of eggs.

everyone does not suffer this fate. i bow down and commend their strength and conviction.

but, to those of us who have dropped a few eggs and broken too many hearts, i like omelets. how about you?

finally, a naked man i can live with.

it took a month and nearly two pads of newsprint, but finally, i drew a model to my own satisfaction. oh, i'd make changes and if i had it here right this second with an eraser near by, i'd be busy screwing it up royally.

i've been approaching my lines as if they were law. the first ones were light and unsure. things get darker, but they were still an outline. no depth, no shadows, no fluidity.

tonight, we moved into ten minute poses. the teacher announced that he'd be standing with each of us for a whole pose. i was crushed and horrified. of course, i was second. after getting called out for not knowing the definition of a word, here i was being scrutinized on my timid lines.

"it's utterly unnerving to have you stand behind me," i declared.

bob took my charcoal and said "what am i looking for?"

"angle of the pelvic girdle, shoulder and vertebrae," i muttered. and with that, all hell broke loose. bob's hand circled and hesitated, but never left the paper. in less than five minutes he had created a beautiful sketch with every marker and extraordinary movement.

he turned and said, 'i hope that helps." i stood there with my mouth agape.

for five minutes i traced my fingers along the lines, glancing at the model and returning to the definition and shading. i noted the random lines and studied how his hand had deftly worked inside the figure--a phrase i only just that moment truly understood.

with the next pose, i reminded my hands not to be uptight... to brush the paper without fear. i tried circles and then striking lines. i saw sharp shoulders and improved pelvic markers. but, it was still an outline.

three sketches later, my hands were loose. the crayon was brushing and swishing and striking with strokes that seemed to have no reason. i watched the model's back hunch and his ankles emerge from swift marks. no outline this. there were shadows and there was weight on the inside.

just before the buzzer... "yes! that's better! good!" chirped bob. i caught my breath... by gosh, it was much better.

as i packed up my charcoal, my mates stopped to compliment and i crossed yet another bridge. i finally felt like i belonged among them; not a poser or an interloper, but a real student.

i have a long way to go, but at least i have finally found the road.

Avon calling...

ladies and gentleman... the quote of the day...

"I'd buy Avon from her, but I am not going to vote for her."

oh... i live for moments like that... thank you caller on Talk of the Nation.

bride to nowhere...

Marlene Davis, from the Lexington Herald Leader, wrote a column about referring to Bristol's boyfriend, Levi, as her fiance'. (click the title of this blog for the article.)

we can certainly speculate on what the real feelings are between bristol and levi and the couple and sarah palin, but it is only speculation. we may not have an answer until palin is out of the national light, whether that is two months, four years, or eight--if we ever learn at all.

i will say that i agree with davis about not labeling them engaged. all i have is my perspective and personal history; anyone who knows me would agree that i could never be called a commitment phobe having been engaged four times. i found myself nodding in agreement with many of her points.

in all honesty, i admit that i have great sympathy for bristol palin. i have never been pregnant, but i have been in places that scared the hell out of me, and i have followed through on commitments that i should have broken.

my only concern is that she may feel alone. i hope that she truly does have the support she needs, and not just support, but understanding.