Things I see on the bus: Part II

Today, I boarded the bus along with a gentleman who helped me put my bike on the bike rack, so I just naturally assummed it would be okay to sit next to him as the entire bus was full. But he immediately grunted and turned to face out the window. Rude!

But a cute thing happened. I got hit on by an 18 year college freshman on the bus. He was struggling to start a conversation and asked me whether I was in my second or third semester in school. This, coming from him, meaning he thought I was 19 or 20! Wheee! Anyways, I avoided being rude and smiled and said "Try going on six years.."

"Years!?" says the young lad

"Yes."

"Why six years? Are you in law school or sumthin'? quoth the youth

"No, just can't make up my mind what I want to do."

It was amusing and he was a polite young man, although he mumbled horribly and I felt like a little old lady by saying over and over "What?" "Excuse me?" or "Can you say that again?"
Geez. 20 years old.

Anyways, if anyone knows where Chris and I might purchase a small garden shed for under 100 bucks, then let me know. And if you know anyone that needs a fridge, we are still trying to give ours away.
As far as the shed, something simple. Nothing too big or that has a candy cottage look to it.

Yuck. I feel a suger rush coming on by just looking at it.

Ciao.
Michelle

Things I see on the bus

I keep meaning to pull out my blue/brown notebook everytime I ride the bus and wait for things to happen, because they do. Like the other day, for instance, I was waiting for my bus on a bench next to the very busy intersection of 10th and Congress. As I watched longingly at the bus pulling up and wishing it to be mine, I noticed a very strange transaction. A woman on the bus was holding a huge bouquet of roses. Why? I don't know. Maybe she was selling them, maybe someone had given them to her. Who knows? While I pondered this, she plucked out a yellow rose and handed it to the skinny, scowling bus driver. As he accepted the rose, a bashful smile creeped across his face as well as a faint blush. It was a wonderful moment. He thanked her, looked desperately around for a place to display the rose before settling in the space over his shoulder.

But moments like those, for me, are hard to capture in words. My husband, Ann, Lance or any of my beautifully artistic friends would paint a splendid scene and capture the feeling or get damn near close. Unfortunately, I do not possess that gift, which is why I am not an English teacher nor a theatre teacher, who also needs to capture moments except with actors in place of pens.

I sometimes feel like I am artistic and crafty, but really I just pretend. I am horrible at sewing (practice would make me better, I know, but I still have to rely on a pattern like my life depends on it, I sucked at geometry which should tell you, dear reader, that I am not good with visualization of shapes and the end products), am only mediocre at embroidering (the first day Ginny did it, her handiwork could wrap circles around mine), and can't even make a damn hat for Ben, something I promised him a year ago.

Alas.

Now, I am getting down on myself. But the real frustrating part is I want to be able to spend time doing things I am only mediocre at so I can get good. But I don't have that kind of time! I can't carry my stuff with me, I am already carrying books and gym clothes for the day in the basket of my bike. I can't sew at home because there is no freakin space as we have two roomies renting a room they don't even use as they are nomads right now and one room being occupied by a good friend who gave me my beloved bike and a living room that is in shambles because it is too damn hot ti sand and paint the walls and build the damn bookshelf! Dammit, now I am in a pissy mood.
And I can't post pictures this time because I am on a stupid PC and not my Mac. Pout.

I apologize for my frustration today. I just get so mad when I am at home that it feels like I don't really have one, I guess. The entire living room is piled on the couches in the middle of the floor. We have to hop on one foot to the next just to get to the freakin' back door. And don't get me started on my garden.

In fact, I am just going to stop now before I get too pissy. Dammit.

Not on my tomatoes!!

Mealy bugs. That is what those wretched things are and I hate them. They killed my hibiscus plant about a year ago. And now they are trying to kill my tomatoes. I hate them.



But I am doing some research and hopefully, I will have terminated the bastards by tomorrow. Grrr....


So what in the heck!! I finally checked my comments from my last post and look at what anonymous wrote:

"If you are alone, call this number 800-211-9293. Connect with Real Singles from your local area instantly for only $0.99/min with a $4.99 connection fee. A true Match is only one phone call away 800-211-9293. Meet people with common interests and desires now. Check it out. 800-211-9293"

Is this a joke? Or do these companies really go thru blogsites and post these on people's blogs? Wow. I laughed really hard at this one, I do hope it was a joke because it is a good one.


So, all is still in shambles at our household. We need to sand the walls before we paint. We need to clean the kitchen and set up sheets before we paint. We need to get off our asses when we have spare time and get the job done. But it is so hard when it is freakin' 100 degrees with 200 percent humidity and we have no freakin AC! Jeez.
Whine
Whine
Whine

I do have a new bike and it is a sweet ride! It is a Raleigh Cruiser and it is green and her name is Louise. After Ginny. Her middle name is Louise. Anyways, I lurve her because it is helluv fun to ride and so much easier than my old bike, Becky.

Ok. I can't think of anything else to post but when I do, I will. I promise I will try to update more often. Keep your fingers crossed.



Kisses,
Michelle

Rainy days

It is raining outside. And not the quick thunderstormy kind but the overcast and pour for 30 minutes straight. Big fat drops. A steady and cleansing beat. The kind of rain I used to play in as a child. That I would still like to play in but for the fact that I am a grown-up and care about getting my clothes soaked, my hair matted to my face, and my mascara running down my face (if I happen to be wearing it, which I usually am when it starts raining...it is kind of like when it rains after people wash their car kind of thing for me, only with mascara)...

But why is there something so theraupeutic about the rain? Is it the way in which it falls? Is it because I live in Texas and it just gets so damned hot, that rain is a welcome relief? Or is it because I am glad I don't have to water the garden and let the rain take care of it?

Who knows?

When the weather is like this though, I want some tea, hand-made crochet socks, a long tee, a huge comforter in a huge chair and to read a book or watch a movie. Preferably something heavy with a love twist in it...like "Remains of the Day" or English Patient....

But alas. I must work today. And I don't own a huge chair and if I did, it would be covered in items from around the house as we are still in the process of re-decorating our living room.

Sigh. I still love rainy days though.

Smiles,
Michelle