Where the Weather Suits My Clothes

Miz Shoes has kindly named me the recipient of an Arte y Pico award. I confess my Spanish is limited to phrases Minstrel Boy pens for me so I can order dinner without creating an international incident, so while I’m not completely clear on the whole Arte y Pico zeitgeist I’m still thankful Miz Shoes thinks that much of me. Thank you, dahhhhlink. You’re much too kind!

Unfortunately, that’s where murky understanding turns to mud. Rules for passing this honor on are:
* Pick 5 blogs to which you would like to award this honor.
* Each award has to have the name of the author and also a link to his or her blog to be visited by everyone.
* Each award winner has to show the award and put the name and link to the blog that has given her or him the award itself.
* Award-winner and the one who has given the prize have to show the link.

I love you, Blogosphere, but if you think I’m sharing my tiara you’ve never seen a beauty pageant. I’m in it for the fame, the glory and the double-sided tape stuck under my armpits, keeping this strapless number from becoming a belt. Name five blogs? And have them steal my hard-fought victory, not to mention my mascara? I can’t do it, not while I’m still competing at the peak of my ridiculous form. So instead of dumping ground glass into your pumps, I’ll entertain you with a medley.

Recently, Greasy Tony flipped his last burger. Yes, Tony’s gone to the Great Grill In the Sky, via Tuscon and Tempe, Arizona. This may come as a surprise to anyone who lived in New Brunswick during the sixties, seventies and eighties, because the hand that rocked the cheesesteak seemed ageless and ancient. Perhaps you visited town but you hadn’t really lived here until you’d stumbled into Greasy Tony’s after bar closing time and ate whatever Tony thought your slurred request meant.

My brother Todd and his friends should have had a plaque on the wall, so often did they patronize this fine eatery. I personally will miss watching Tony slap roaches on the counter with the same knife he used to chop “vegetables,” but these memories will someday be lost on the winds of time. What is not lost is the true Jersey spirit in which Tony said, “No charge for extra grease.”

A few weeks ago, the phone rang. My sister Daria hissed at me urgently from an outlet store ten miles away.

Daria: WHAT SIZE ARE YOUR FEET?
Tata: Depends on the shoes’ width. My feet form amusing triangles –
Daria: FLIP FLOPS! WHAT SIZE ARE YOUR FEET IN FLIP FLOPS?
Tata: Six and a half? Seven?
Daria: SEVEN IT IS! What color do you want? They have purple, blue and silver.
Tata: Both. All of them. What are we talking about?
Daria: Vera Wang flip flops are 50% off and I have a coupon!
Tata: You’d better get all three. What if my feet aren’t feeling all matchy-matchy?

This is an almost criminally inadequate rendering of the purple version of the flip flops I am currently wearing, and this tries the patience of my co-workers because when sunlight catches the little silver plastic bauble – it’s true – angels sing. Yes, when I’m wearing casual summer footwear I have a celestial soundtrack. We all do; it’s just that I can hear this theme music. It’s a talent, I guess; helps me avoid sharks. A few weeks ago, a woman I barely know asked what my blog’s about. I don’t know. It’s possible you might know before I do.

Don’t touch my bouquet, sweetie.

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The Feeling, Power Steering

The charming and erudite konagod tagged me for the 8 Things Meme, which sounded familiar for a good reason: I did it in July. It’s true that I didn’t say much. I wasn’t feeling chatty. I’ll add this: I am completely left-handed. Completely. It’s a miracle my right hand hasn’t withered and fallen off. The only thing I do with my right hand and without thinking is use a scissor, and nobody needs to closely examine the nail polish on my left hand, I mean it!

This week, Siobhan is having her biennial reupholstering at that clinic in Switzerland she swears by. Good luck, sweetie! History proves your vowel sounds will return when you can purse your lips and swear again!

I’ve Been Memed. I

Jill from Brilliant@Breakfast tagged me, which would have been more exciting had I not run around for weeks shouting, “Not It!”

THE RULES
1. All right, here are the rules.
2. We have to post these rules before we give you the facts.
3. Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
4. People who are tagged write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
5. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.

As usual, I don’t know what these words mean in this order. So.

1. My thumbs bend backward. I’ll take a picture sometime. You’ll swear I photoshopped.
2. My cubicle at work is surrounded by plastic soldiers and dinosaurs.
3. I don’t sleep. It’s contagious. Y’awake?
4. Air conditioning makes me seasick.
5. Everyone has magical powers. I catch things flying through the air, but only if I didn’t see them coming.
6. What day is it? Ya got me.
7. I have an irrational fear of earthquakes.
8. I’m not melting. All my beautiful Eeeeevil is fine, thank you.

As for the rules: I cannot follow them! I will not tag! If you wish to tag yourself, please do. You have every right to tell the world your front teeth are backwards, but I won’t make you!

Now you know something else about me.

I’ve Been Memed. II

Little does Phydeaux know I’ve been lurking at his place, too. Shh! Don’t tell him! It’s a secret!

These are the rules:
1. If, and only if, you get tagged, write a post with links to 5 blogs that make you think,
2. Link to this post so that people can easily find the exact origin of the meme,
3. Optional: Proudly display the ‘Thinking Blogger Award’ with a link to the post that you wrote.

As Dot said, “You can lead a whore to culture but you can’t make her wear panties.” Or something like that. Anyway, while it’s charming to be chosen for the Varsity Cogitating Team, I should mention some months ago, my sister Daria introduced a pearl of wisdom we now live by. Feel free to adopt it if this adage suits your purposes: Don’t think – it weakens the team. Let’s sort out a few things, for clarity’s sake. Think of it as the AlkaSeltzer before your bingy-drink-drinking.

I write for and/or fall down at:
Poor Impulse Control. Hi!
Running Scared. Infrequently. I finished the Holland House.
Blanton’s & Ashton’s. They have booze.
AgitProp. BYOBushie.
…so Mr. DBK and Mr. Blogenfreude are RIGHT OUT.

I read a pile o’ blogs every day, some several times a day. The really big ones don’t make sense to me (Eschaton hurts my tiny brain and I’d have to quit my job to read Kos) so I stick to mid-level, middle-to-actual left blogs, art, food and storytelling blogs. (Many of these blogs have the Thinkery logo.) At least once a week, I follow someone’s blogroll to a blog I’m really glad I found. The tricky part can be finding it a second time, because while a great many big thinkers are working in the Blogosphere, quite a few of them don’t need little me to prop up their egos. In no particular order, then:

For straight up monster-stomping goodness, nothing makes smoke shoot out my ears like Brilliant@Breakfast. This is the first blog I read every morning. How Jill accomplishes organized thinking and writing day after day while I’m begging the Caffeine Gods for mercy is beyond me. Moreover, Jill’s passion is contagious. I’m a lot less likely to walk away from political conversations seething and silent than I was before either I found her or she found me.

Enrevanche. Barry thinks about things I don’t or they wouldn’t cross my path. His cat is a humble rock star. I read Enrevanche about once a week. If I skip it, I feel like I misplaced my car keys.

Reading The Unapologetic Mexican drags me out of my cracked-glass-lined comfort zone and into one where my assumptions of ‘normal’ and ‘ordinary’ sound gratingly stupid to my ear – and that is fantastic. I can’t question my ideas – I have to deal with their failures.

Spocko’s Brain is an important read whenever I feel uninspired. One determined, organized person with a good memory can put the screws to bullies, and don’t you forget it!

You must join me in the splendor and fury that is Cripes, Suzette II: Into the Fire. Do not argue the point! You will not prevail! Suzette’s politics differ from mine, which are slightly to the left of Gandhi’s, yet we must order soup, and you must absolutely taste the duck. Taste it! Do not vex me, as this meme will vex Suzette!

It must be mentioned that Sharon at Center Of New Jersey Life is so smart I jog in place to keep up, and it’s a good thing I recently bought new bras.

There you have it. As for Rule #3, I will ask Siobhan to explain it to me slowly and in simple expletives, because I am small and covered with fur. Though there’s Nair.