Sometimes I start writing a blog post and then abandon it for some reason.
Last week, I found orphan posts from as far back as 2007. I can even remember some of my original intentions for them.
Falling in love and falling apart
I’ve been going through some old blog drafts written at various points in the past. Sometimes I’ll save something that tickles me, even if it’s apropos of nothing.
Or sometimes it’s too painfully apropos. For awhile, anyway.
This is from “A Dog Is No Reason to Stay Together” by Damian Kulash, Jr. as featured in Things I’ve Learned From Women Who’ve Dumped Me, edited by Ben Karlin:
Reunited, and it feels so random
I’ve started tutoring Jing again. After a few months with no contact, we’re back in the groove.
I can’t believe how much she’s grown. She’s started saying some of the most brilliant things, and her braces are coming off next week. Like, OMG!
And she’s still the reigning Junior Miss Non Sequitur.
Save your hide
Some of our worst problems sneak up on us. They’re freaky little failings no one anticipates. Tiny developments we miss a million times.
My first appointment of 2010 - and the first New Year’s resolution I’ll complete - is a skin cancer screening. I’ll be dressed in a robe and checked from scalp to sole for any suspicious spots.
I’ve needed to do this for awhile. I’m blue-eyed, fair-skinned, and have a family history of skin cancer. I grew up in Texas.
In the last few years, I’ve watched my dad undergo biopsies and chemotherapy to treat his skin cancer. He’s had chunks of his face removed. Pieces of his arms, his nose, his neck.
Tell me about your childhood
My friend Nate, the recovering canned fruit addict, is one of those tall, quiet types to watch out for.
When we went to see R. Crumb awhile back, we talked about our impressions of each other. I had mine of him, some of which he shot down. But his impressions of me were dead-on.
I’ve really enjoyed getting to know Nate. Next stop: psychoanalysis.
Cold Spring calling
Nearly two months ago, I went on a hiking adventure with my friend Mike. I guess some people might call him Mike #2, as I have another Mike I’ve been friends with longer.
But there is no Mike #2. They are both #1. If I were their Little League coach, they’d both get to be pitcher.
So this Mike I went hiking with is Mike, the aspiring chef. Mike, my Dominican brother from another mother. Mike who can’t ride a bike. (I told him I’d teach him if I could blog about it. He declined).
What Mike said I could blog about is taking a hiking trip to Cold Spring, New York. It’s close to Poughkeepsie and full of trees, fresh air, and antiques.
Yogi Oki Doki and his creepy yoga farm
I thought about going to yoga today, but then I watched a video clip from the late 90’s children’s TV show E-i E-i Yoga. My abs got a sufficient laughter workout, so I think I might just stay in happy baby pose and watch a dvd.
Whether you’ve ever practiced yoga or not, you have to witness this remarkably awkward video.
Some background: Yogi Oki Doki teaches yoga to kids on a farm while wearing jeans. His sidekicks include a Jamaican rooster named Rasta and HowNow the MooCow. They’re all concerned about breathing.
Kicking the habit
With Thanksgiving a few grocery store fisticuffs away, I’ve been daydreaming of cranberry sauce. The real stuff. Not that gelatinous, cylindrical mass with the can indentations.
I try to convert the unenlightened. This year, I’ve started with my friend Nate. He likes canned fruit. Really likes it.
But hey, admitting it is the first step to recovery.
You must’ve said something cruel
Sandra Cisneros is one of my favorite writers. She’s written one novel titled Caramelo, but I love her poetry more.
This poem, “No Mercy” from the incredible collection My Wicked, Wicked Ways, has been on my mind all week:
What I Wore: My non-trapeze trapeze dress
Whenever I do something fun I want to remember, I try to buy a clothing item or accessory to commemorate the experience. It doesn’t have to be directly related, but I want to be able to dress up again in that joy.
After I took my trapeze class, I went to Beacon’s Closet nearby to find something special. Maybe even a bona fide trapeze dress. (It’s a real style - look it up).
Instead, I found a vintage 1970’s linen dress that reminds me of really pricey wallpaper.
