Molly Goatwax

hello ditsy

Mindful of looking doughy and unkempt, yesterday I went to a real hair salon to get an actual style. I told the lady I'd like sweeping bangs as I gestured across my forehead, but after an hour of having my head knocked around and my hair pulled, I emerged with the "bangs" curling into my nostrils and the part moved to the side of my head. I told her it was not what I had in mind but was too eager to escape when she offered to fix it. Now my hair is constantly in my eyes. I was in such a snit that I chose the big headed mouthless cartoon kitty print when I re-ordered checks for my joint account with Hubby. Don't tell him, OK? Oh, right. He's bound to find out anyway.

I get around

Oh, woo woo woo, I wore out this shoe in the desert.

the prodigal

I found my parents' memorial bench at the university overtaken by trash and vines and missing its plaque. I searched out the gorgon what took our money and have today been assured it will be put right. After dumping the empty black crematory boxes, stripped of names, into a public wastebin, I felt a tremendous lifting sensation of relief at having discharged my duties, while also feeling like I had lost or forgotten something important. But it was a joy and a pleasure to dine with old friends who were sincerely glad I hadn't gotten myself arrested and to entertain a rush of jealousy for Miss Lis's lovely knobbed kitchen cabinets. She has found herself a gal's dream apartment, all closets and windows with views, high ceilings and space to relax. I also hit a few paper stores and found patterns I'd never seen before. But when I got back to Baltimore I was forcefully struck by how strange everyone here looks. While the crowds in Vegas and Chicago dress neatly and in fashionable clothes, the natives here look like they are wearing doughy, misshapen rags. It's not an issue of fitness or overweight or finance. Even the wealthy seem to be missing that certain patina of being cared for, as if they are all just too weary to think about what they look like...

Friends

What do you call four artists walking down (and sometimes restricting the flow of traffic on,) a crowded sidewalk discussing each bit of architecture they pass?

another flight in the morning

I may have gotten over my night terrors from the Hoover Dam, but these oversized sucking carps in Lake Mead still give me the willies. In the process of packing for Chicago, I emptied the camera and packed up mom and dad. They take up almost all my carry-on's space at about a gallon each. Dropped the case with dad in it on my toe. Not as bad as a gallon can of paint, but still painfull. Mom's a lot lighter. I hope I have no amusing stories about Homeland Security quarantining my luggage for suspicious powders to relate next week.

Flush

My first attempt at cooking chile verde was an unqualified success. None of the diners became so much as dyspeptic. Well the dinner was delicious, although my guest and I agreed that we might use hotter chiles but in the same amount next time. Or I just might spike those tenderly roasted and hand peeled Anaheims and Serranos with a tiny can of chopped Jalepenos if I don't feel like disecting something that volitile. What intrigues me is; she'd never had it, I don't see it served around here and it's terrific. Oh, well. Pervuvian chicken never made it to Baltimore, either.

New Tricks

I roasted and peeled chile peppers for a recipe for the first time this afternoon. It was easy! I hope Miss Smiles Like Sunshine enjoys her chile verde, I've never seen it on the menu in these parts.

an almost perfect day

Maryland is getting a heavy long soak of rain this evening after a fierce dought. It's also a blessing to listen to, in my room, after so long in the desert. I'm just glad I got in my hike to the bank, up a few concrete staircases through hidden gardens on my way to the marzipan store and then the tot's school to turn in her papers, and even re-inflated the rear tyre of the 9-3 with the personal air compressor Hubby gave me because he loves me....I hope it keeps its air...then weeding the parking lot before a bite of sushi and a beer with the older daughter all before the rain set in.

landed

Of course the first thing I noticed was the wet air clinging to me when we got out of the terminal, but I was so relieved to get away from the woman whose family filled two rows ahead of us and the one behind. She sat next to me, roundly pregnant, quietly commanding them all with a quiet tone and gestures. It finally came out that she was working on her ninth. As I opened Mr. Beetz's car door at the curb the aroma of Old Bay seasoning wafted into the steamy air and he admitted that he may have, once or twice, eaten crabs in the car. Very distinctive stuff, Old Bay. Wheeling a suitcase into the house I felt instantly overwhelmed with stuff. An old keyhole plate, rubber bands and an animal shaped magnet lay on a stack of paid bills on the toychest next to my bed. Boxes and tubs and cabinets full of the things I have trying to sort for years are neatly stacked with too much clean, folded laundry. I immediately went to my chest of drawers and threw out all the underwear that bother me. I should wash. I feel sticky...

Fed up

It's been a while since I've heard church bells, sirens, the whine of mosquitos or someone saying "wotCHEWlookindat?". I can barely remember what honeysuckle smells like, let alone shrimp steaming in beer and Old Bay or the things that float in the harbor. I haven't seen a painted window screen, plastic pink flamingos festooning the yards of 19th century buildings or any crime scene tape for months. If I try hard, I can almost taste a bite of hot crab dip melting in my mouth. That would sure go down well with a pint of Clipper City amber.  They don't even have any decent suerbratens or marzipans here...or kugel...or "lake trout"...THAT'S IT! I'm packing up the tot and leaving for Baltimore tommorrow!