Cherry Indigo

I've added "word verification" to the comment area to block spammers. My apologies.

Friday, June 24, 2011

This Didn't Work As Well As I Had Hoped

Well. That was short-lived. But not for lack of interest, just a newfound interest in Twitter. I just have to figure out how to balance both blogging and tweeting. I also have to decide which venue is better, depending on the content.

More to come....

Sunday, June 12, 2011

I Tweet, Therefore I Am a Twat. Twit? Really? Are you sure? Okay, then.

I'm becoming a Twitter whore. It took over most of my weekend. Okay, I'm exaggerating a little bit and it only took over Sunday...some of Sunday....a few hours on Sunday. And some of Saturday. At least here I don't have to worry about characters. Much easier. I can just write and write and write and write....that was fun.

Well, it was for me and it's my blog. So suck it.

Monday is creeping up on me. Every. Damn. Week. Like clockwork. Did somebody schedule this shit or what? My, what a foul mouth I have tonight. Alright, I'm clearly not in the happy blog place that I should be in to attempt this. So I'll call it a night.

You see, right now, I have Twitter Cindy, but there is also Blog Cindy. If Twitter Cindy walks through this door, she will kill Blog Cindy! A Cindy, divided against itself, cannot stand!

<blink> and click

Friday, June 10, 2011

Under Pressure

Oh, I told someone. Told LG at lunch that I had blogged again. Now I actually have to come up with a second entry and I've got nothing. Bloggerblock. However, it is Friday, so I shouldn't be expected to try too hard.

A commercial for Bridezillas was just on television. Will we ever see the end of reality tv and these celebri-temps? They don't DO anything. They contribute nothing. I already hear the collective chorus of backlash that, yes, they are contributing entertainment to the world. What a sad society we've become.

I also read today about the hatred that the rest of the world has for us....and it has nothing to do with being envious of us. They really don't like us anymore. That should mean something.

We need more superheroes.

“In brightest day, in blackest night, No evil shall escape my sight.
Let those who worship evil’s might, Beware my power… Green Lantern’s light!“

Good thing he's coming to theatres soon.

I'm going to eat some pizza. It's Friday, that calls for pizza. I apologize if this is dissapointing, LG. I'll try harder over the weekend.

Oh, I also decided to stop being so judgemental and be more forgiving. Startiiinnnngggg........now.

<blink> and click

Thursday, June 09, 2011

What a long, strange trip it's been

Has it really been 4 years since I've been here? No one is even going to know to look for my posts anymore...and that might be okay. For whatever reason, I ended up reading the majority of my old entries over the past couple weeks. I'd forgotten how much fun it was to be a part of the blog world. My trip down memory lane reminded me of people - who I think I was privileged enough to call friends - that I only knew through pictures and words (lots and lots and lots of words). I never met them, but it was easy to enjoy their stories, support their heartaches, and care about them. I wonder how they're doing these days.

Some things change and some remain the same. I live in the same place, I'm with the same person, and my cat still thinks that he's in charge.

So what's really diferent then? Well, I passed a milestone birthday, coincidentally, just after I lasted posted here. I have a new job in the city and now take the train to work every morning (I just heard a mash-up of Tina Turner's "Rolling on the River" and Shena Easton's "Morning Train" - it was a, um, different). I'm 3/4 of the way to finally completing my degree....thank God. I no longer play softball on Sundays (mainly because of school), and I haven't traveled the way I used to. I've developed an affinity for gardening (vegetables) and become more of a neat freak as I age. I've made some new friends, kept some existing friends, and lost touch with some once very dear friends. So, some changes are good, some are just changes, and some I wish I could change again.

I have time on my hands that I didn't feel I had before, when my little blog went on hiatus, so maybe I'm back. Time will tell. Most of the time, I feel busier than ever, but now I have a train ride and an iPad, so blogging could be easier.

For now, it's good to be back, albeit quietly and without fanfare. I think I'll see if this sticks before letting anyone know. Plus, this has to be the most boring blog ever. Eh. Ver.

That is all.

Wednesday, March 14, 2007

Tales from the Grocery Store

I’m not a big fan of grocery shopping. I’m not good at it. I don’t want to be good it. I am thrilled that other people in my life do the grocery shopping. I'm happy to go along on a shopping trip with someone else, but I don't want to have any responsibility. I will push the cart and can be sent on re-con missions for very specific items.

"Can you go get apples?"
"Sure, what kind?"
"Red"
" I don't like red."
"Then green."
"Okay, how many?"
"As many as you'll eat."
"Six?"
"Sure."
"Maybe just four."
"Then four."
"No, I'll get six."
long, exasperated sigh

I'm also very good at picking up random items and asking, "hey, you want to try this?" or just putting stuff in the cart at will. I don't get invited on many grocery shopping trips. My job is to wait at home and help unpack the car.

When left to my own devices...

My typical shopping list goes something like this:

Cat food / litter
Yogurt
Pineapple
Red Bull (I’m giving it up tomorrow – again)
Waffles

That’s for an entire week...sometimes two. Whilst there, I’ll also end up buying grapes and a magazine – maybe some goat cheese.

Tonight, however, was probably the stupidest shopping trip I ever made… I made it stupid. Okay, I was stupid on the trip.

Into the store I go… I get everything on my list plus Vanity Fair and a Boboli pizza crust. I’m a big advocate of the self-check out and that’s what I do. Bing-bang-boom….I’m done. Grab my bags and head home (only a couple miles away, if that)

As I’m unpacking the bags, I realize I don’t have the yogurt or pineapple. Oh no! Where ar-…shit. Left them at the store, I’ll bet. I call the store, they have my stuff…okay, I tell them, I’ll be right there.

Back to the store I go and get my bag. O-KAY! Good for the night.

Recall the Boboli pizza crust. When I saw it hanging there, I thought, “hey, I have pre-cooked chicken and Bar-B-Que sauce! Great! Easy dinner!” It’s a really good pizza combo.

The oven goes on and I’m about to get the chicken and sauce when I think…”something is missing.”

……… ………… ………….. Damn it!! CHEESE! I need cheese. I only have cheddar...and goat.

BACK TO THE STORE….but this time to Trader Joe’s, which is even closer then the first store.

My 30 minute grocery excursion turns into an hour, but my pizza was awesome.

This didn’t even have anything to do with why I don’t like to grocery shop. Now it does…but it didn’t before.

Tuesday, March 06, 2007

The Good Things

I’m tired. I’m tired of all the negative, awful, disheartening things in this world. I’ve had it with violence and corruptness and incompetence. I’ve lost patience with people’s selfishness, with our intolerance of anything different then ourselves. Just. Tired.

I hate watching the news. That’s naïve and irresponsible, I know. I’m an adult. I live in this society and have an obligation to know what is happening. Honestly, I feel like I was so much happier when I didn’t watch the news…when I focused on the good in life that is also happening, that gets overshadowed by all the bad.

I feel the need to be reminded of the things that bring joy. Little things, big things. Stupid things, important things. Special to you…and maybe only to you. Special to me…and maybe only to me.

When the last child cries for a crust of bread

When the last man dies for just words that he said

When there's shelter over the poorest head

We shall be free

The best new song that has all the right words and touches you right there. Knowing that someone left you the last brownie, even when that person wanted it. When that special person sleeps against you in that way fitting only the two of you…and fitting so perfectly.

When the last thing we notice is the color of skin

And the first thing we look for is the beauty within

When the skies and the oceans are clean again

Then we shall be free

A re-run of a show you’ve seen a hundred times that still makes you laugh like the first time you saw it….maybe more. The first time you cry because you’re happy. When the middle seat is empty on the last leg of a long trip home. Driving by a little league game and stopping to watch the kids play for the sheer joy of playing.

When we're free to love anyone we choose

When this world's big enough for all different views

When we all can worship from our own kind of pew

Then we shall be free We shall be free

Someone taking your hand and kissing your cheek. Finally having a clue of what your parents went through raising you and hugging them a little tighter when you next see them. A really productive day at work, followed by a vacation day.

And when money talks for the very last time

And nobody walks a step behind

When there's only one race and that's mankind

Then we shall be free

Flowers. Hot chocolate. Crayons. Sledding. Sunshine. Puppies. Greeting cards. Hats. Weddings. Dancing. Babies. Toys. Books. Pictures. Flip flops. Laughing SO hard. Lucky Charms. Love.

Stand straight, walk proud, have a little faith, hold out

We shall be free

Thursday, February 08, 2007

Another Reason to Remain in Good Health

Listening to 106.1 this morning, I heard a surprising report. The topic, of course, was the severe cold snap the region is experiencing. While most of us probably thought this weather was a result of atmospheric conditions, this isn't the case. According to the newscaster,

"The cold is blamed on the deaths of 16 people."

She didn't elaborate to say whether things would be warmer, had it only been 15 people...or 14 people. No explanation was offerred as to why 16 is the magic number when it comes to weather changes. There was also no prediction of what might happen should another 16 people perish.

Take your vitamins.

Tuesday, February 06, 2007

Storytellers...but not VH-1's.

I had to turn to Dave the Muse for this evening since the best, most exciting and wonderful thing in my life is a who, not a what…and I’ve always chosen to keep that special by keeping it sort of private. So I can’t write about that.

To write about the worst thing in my life right now would be to go against my own rules, established way back at the beginning of this journey.

In addition to not wanting to write about the mediocre, I really want to go to bed early and read. Using Dave helps me focus. (It’s okay, Dave uses me, too.) So, for tonight, Dave prompts this thought…

Who told the stories in your family? Why them?

There are several good storytellers in my family. My maternal grandfather was the best when it came to facts and lessons. He was an orphan who was separated from his brothers and sisters (and I think there were 7 total) when he was young. He reconnected with most of them later in life but he had a rough upbringing and, as a result, was a stern and serious father to my Mom and her sister…and a stern and serious man. He was a wonderful grandfather, though…he adored all of us.

My paternal grandmother is a great storyteller as well. She’s always best for repeating the family stories…the ones you hear a hundred times as you’re growing up until you can tell them just as well.

My Mom also weaves a good tale. She combines several skills…she can tell the fact and lesson stories; she knows every family story there is and has probably made a few of them up along the way; and she best emulates her Mother’s story telling talent.

My maternal grandmother was the best storyteller…the best. My grandmother was always small – as far back as I can remember. She always seemed to be our size and we loved getting a drink of water, using the same stool to reach the sink that she used to reach the high shelves in the cabinets. Her name was Elizabeth but most people called her Libby…or Mabel. My Dad always called her Mabel…we never really understood where that nickname originated, but it suited her well.

My grandmother had white hair that seemed like wisps of silk. She had blue blue blue eyes - a fact I really discovered when I visited her many years later in a nursing home, under the grip of Alzheimers, when she no longer wore her glasses.

I take after my grandmother in many ways – I developed allergies in my early 20s, I never found a first gray hair…it was white, Mother Nature blessed me with her fair skin and small hands (just like my Mom’s, too), and we all inherited her great love of music. Oh my God, the musical talent this woman possessed. She had perfect pitch and rarely needed music when she played the piano. Even in her eighties, she could turn out an old ragtime tune like nobody’s business. She played for the church theater group for as long as she possibly could. When she finally hung up the ivories, they gave her a wonderful party, paying a much deserved tribute to her.

I realize now that I’ve never written about my grandmother before. It’s been a while since I’ve even thought of her. Before she got sick, my mother and her family let an old and tiring subject zap them of any energy and desire to remain a real family. We were closest to my Mom’s family and I never would have predicted the ending that befell them…and, in turn, us.

The last time I saw her was that day in the nursing home. It was close to Christmas and I took the day off just to visit her…because I hadn’t yet at that point…and I really wanted to see her. I sat in her room and talked a lot while she watched me with those blue eyes – and that’s when I REALLY noticed them.

I don’t know if she knew who I was and it didn’t matter. She seemed to know - she knew I was my Mom’s daughter which could have been my sister or me. At one point, while she was staring at me so intently, I was talking about how silly the fighting in the family was and I very quietly told her that I wish I knew what she was thinking. After about 10 minutes of sitting in the shared silence, she asked, “Do you want to know what I know?” She was there…right at that moment, she was there. I told her yes, very much so. And that was the last thing she ever said to me. I never got to hear what she knew – as quickly as she was there, she was gone again. After another half hour or so, it was time for her to eat lunch and time for me to be on my way. I wish I had stayed longer.

So, it would seem that Dave the Muse has led me down a much different path from that on which I began. He’s sneaky that way. Nonetheless, I can’t bring myself not to post this, but not before promising myself that I’ll continue in the next day or two. I’ll get back to the original point of this subject…why my grandmother was the storyteller in our family.

While I love the memories, I hate when the past sneaks up behind you and sucker-punches you right in the stomach.

Thursday, February 01, 2007

I Should Be In Bed...

It's been a long, tiring week and I have an early morning in front of me. I should be in bed but I want to stay up late. :) I feel like a little kid. I want to catch up with my friends on myspace and make a new playlist for my iPod. I want to discover cool new music that lifts me up and inspires me the way James Blunt's "High" did when I heard it on Grey's Anatomy (the episode with the quints, it played during the birth and made me tear up a little bit). I must have listened to it 10 times in a row after that.

I want to go downstairs and get a bowl of cereal - like Lucky Charms. The problem is, I don't have any Lucky Charms. Or ice cream...of which I also have none.

I want to read a book in bed like I did when I was 10...under the covers with a flashlight so I wouldn't get caught being up late. How great must a book be that makes a kid want to read it that badly? How excited would you be as a parent to know your kid loves to read THAT MUCH? I would be beside myself with glee.

It would be easy to get wrapped in a PS2 game for the next several hours, falling asleep with the controller in hand. Okay, so sometimes it wasn't a book under the covers, it was Mattel's handheld video football game. ;) That was much more difficult because you couldn't turn off the sound on those games and had to press it REALLY HARD against your pillow to muffle the noise....especially when you scored a touchdown!

Alas, I must go to bed. I said I would do the morning check for my team at work...and that's a 5am thing and I have to be coherent by then. At least I can do it from here, in my sweats, eating waffles, drinking Red Bull and with the TV on. I used to watch "The X-Files" when I did the check....but now they are into the episodes after Mulder and Scully (drool) are gone. In other words, the sucky episodes. So I've switched to "Mad About You".

I'm looking forward to the weekend - I think it will be a good one. Go Colts!

Thursday, January 25, 2007

Short but...okay, just short

I wish I had time to learn all the things I want to know. I walk around Barnes & Noble and want to read everything. I want a year just to read and learn, learn, learn. Then I come home and have a million things to do and don't spend time drowning in new information.

I've contemplated the fact that maybe this is really bothering me lately because I'm turning 40 this year and there are still things I want to do and wish I had already done.

For instance, I would really love to be steeped in technology. Or I would really love to have the time, energy and resources to get into medicine...I don't think I'm ready to start paying my dues all over again.

If I don't buy a sports car but spend a couple hundred bucks a week on books, is it still considered the mark of a mid-life crisis? What if I'm not actually reading all the books because I don't have time?

Hmmm....not so short afterall.

Tuesday, January 23, 2007

The Rise and Fall...

Today's installment of Dave the Muse...

Write about something on the verge of collapse: building, bridge, marriage, contest, institution, alliance, certainty, the country (okay, I added that last one)

Wow…so many options from which to choose. I can think of two that are not so, shall we say, important. I’ll just tackle the one for now.

The dishes stacked in the drying rack.

Most of the dishes go in the dishwasher. I did the Palmolive moments growing up and in our first apartment. Dishwashers rock. However, much like laundry, there are “delicates” that do not go in the dishwasher. They have not been deemed “dishwasher safe” by the proper authorities.

These particular items, the “dish delicates”, are washed by hand and left to dry in the oh-so-decorative white plastic rack beside the sink. They typically include handmade pottery (plates, mugs, bowls, etc.), really expensive or really big knives, wine glasses, pots and pans and more plastic containers then I ever remember buying.

On a night when all the culinary planets align, there can be quite the assortment of things that need to be hand washed. Stacking them is akin to building a house of cards. Each subsequent move requires more skill, balance and a lighter touch. I usually end up putting the plastic containers and lids on last since they are lightest and I care the least about them should they fall.

This mountain of ceramic, metal, glass and plastic is always on the verge of collapse. I sometimes hold my breath when I pass by, gliding along like Little Cindy Lou Who (you never see her feet).

Then the moment will come when you will need an item near the bottom. The smart thing to do, of course, is to put the dishes away so you can safely reach the desired item. The challenging (nice word for stupid) thing to do is to carefully wiggle the damn thing out of there.

Jenga for the kitchen, if you will.

Monday, January 22, 2007

Open An Imaginary Door.

What do you see?

1973.

I’m six years old and it’s the first day of school. When it comes to life, I know then what I know now. Reading, writing and arithmetic are still to be learned but I know the important lessons.

For instance, I know that I’ll wish I had studied more in order to earn better grades. I’ll already realize that better grades open doors to better colleges, more opportunities and limitless experiences.

I’ll also have the knowledge that grades won’t be enough and I’ll overcome my shyness to join the organizations that are of interest to me (and some that aren't), thus connecting me to more people.

All of life’s lessons won’t be about school. It will be clear that the labels on my clothing aren’t the qualties about which my true friends will care.

The fascination with medicine and the human body will have already been discovered and have possibly formed my future differently.

I won’t be afraid to be who I am and will accept it more readily. I’ll also know that my parents love me because I’m me and I’m their daughter….it will have nothing to with who I want to love.

Perhaps most importantly, I’ll know that honesty, integrity and being true to one’s convictions are not things that can be compromised. Family is family – no matter what. Friendships require attention, care and nurturing.

Though money can’t buy happiness, I’ll also be a gazillionaire because I’ll know where to get all the lottery numbers for the past 34 years. A gazillion dollars can do a lot of good for a lot of people in this world.

It’s a good start.

Wednesday, January 17, 2007

Commitment

Ah, my poor little blog. Lonely, neglected, isolated from the other blogs. How did this relationship go astray? We used to be tight. I think we can be that way again.

I really miss writing more than I realized. There are a few dream jobs I have; musician, philanthropist, radiologist (x-rays are cool), animal rescue, carpenter and writer. I like the last one because you don’t need a degree, money, special skills…anyone who wants to write something can. Sure, some people write better than others, but ANYONE can write. Yes, you have to know the alphabet – although picture books can tell a story, too – graphical writing.

I’ve been telling myself that I don’t have the time I used to have, I don’t have the opportunity as I did before. All I need is 10 or 15 minutes a day. I have that. So, I’m going to try this again. I’m also going to try to make it different. How many times can I complain about Britney Spears, Paris Hilton or the stupidity of society? Okay, a lot, but that’s not the point.

If I really want to write for the sake of improving my writing skills, I need something new. I found something at Barnes and Noble – my sanctuary – today. In addition to several other books, I found “The Pocket Muse” whilst I was browsing.

Not only will this give me countless ideas from which to draw, it forces me to think about experiences. It gives me the opportunity to stretch my imagination and expand my perspective. Of course, there will still be the occasional rant about those mundane, yet newsworthy, items that I enjoy so much….writing about them amuses me. I know, I’m not proud of it.

So here goes…let’s see what my little pocket muse, Dave, has for me today.

“What’s the most you ever paid for something you didn’t even want?”

I’m paying $3000 to have braces at the age of 39.

This is going to be easier than I thought.

Thursday, December 21, 2006

My Grown-Up Christmas List

Do you remember me?

I sat upon your knee;

I wrote to you

With childhood fantasies.

Dear Santa Clause,

I have been extra good this year.

Please bring me a new blue bike, a Frumpy teddy bear, Chutes and Ladders and a Fisher Price Baby Ann doll.

And please bring my sister the Baby Jenny doll and my brother Baby Joey.

Merry Christmas to Mrs. Clause and the reindeer.

(did the elves seem like evil clowns to anyone besides me?)

Well, I'm all grown-up now,

And still need help somehow.

(can you still help somehow?)

I'm not a child,

But my heart still can dream

The dream is simple. A farm for animal rescue. It doesn't really matter if they are ever placed in other homes, we'll keep them all and take care of them. With family and friends that visit all the time. A door that's always open.

So here's my lifelong wish,

My grown-up Christmas list.

Not for myself,

But for a world in need.

Understanding. Tolerance. Unity. Optimism. Honesty. Kindness and Forgiveness.

No more lives torn apart,

That wars would never start,

And time would heal all hearts.

And everyone would have a friend,

And right would always win,

And love would never end.

This is my grown-up Christmas list.

Friendships that really are lifelong.

Being true to yourself.

Counting your blessings.

Recognizing all the free gifts with which you were born.

Making time. Making up. Making your way.

As children we believed

The grandest sight to see

Was something lovely

Wrapped beneath our tree.

Well heaven surely knows

That packages and bows

Can never heal

A hurting human soul.

Helping a stranger.

Pursuing happiness.

Teaching a child something...anything.

Learning something new...anything.

Knowing who you are and being proud of who that is.

What is this illusion called the innocence of youth?

Maybe only in our blind belief can we ever find the truth.

Faith.

Love.

Peace.

Happiness.

“And I'll tell you from my heart
I wish you Merry Christmas"

Merry Chrismas

- Third Day

Wednesday, November 01, 2006

What You See if NOT Always What You Get

Paris Hilton wants people to stop thinking she is the person we see splashed across magazine covers, entertainment news shows and the internet.

"People shouldn't judge me and assume that's how I am," Paris says about her public image.

The drunk driving incidents? Just an act to help teach young drivers the importance of having insurance and staying safe...a public service announcment, if you will.

The internet sex tape? A lesson to you kids about what can happen when you let someone tape you having sex and innocently give it your publicist who, "just wanted to borrow it. Really".

I hear Mother Teresa wasn't really a kind, benevolent, caring person who wanted to help the poor. At night, she went home and kicked her dog. All that public footage...just an act.