My sister looks *fierce* in a bow hat!

manda1
Originally uploaded by GypsyPeach.

Thanks, guys. I had really nice weekend, and I hope you guys had as much fun as I did.

Well.

So pretty soon leafygreen.org will take its big, bad, zero customer service self and disappear into cyberspace. I'm back at the old address. I hope you'll keep reading, but I'm telling you right now- it isn't pretty.

Meltdown Commencing.... 10...9...8...

Going on hiatus for a little while. 7...6...5...4...

LeafyGreen.org will soon cease to exist, but I'll let you know where Idiosyncratic Life ends up. It might take a little while for me to get Big Stupid Sucky Life back to being merely Idiosyncratic, but I'll let you know when it gets there..

3... 2... 1

:)

Eating Humble Pie

Hey, Foot, you remember Mouth, right? It's only been... what, five minutes since I last stuck you two together? Mmmm...

"Olajumoke, I love you"

I was out walking the dog, who started to do the three-legged hop she does when the salt on the icy sidewalk hurts her paws, when I found a love letter on the street.

"Before Bedtime 10:48 p.m." it begins.

The writer is from Nigeria, I think. A quick google search or two of phrases I don't recognize calls up Nigerian newspapers, radio stations, musicians. The sender is writing in English, though it's clearly not her first language. "You my angel," she writes. "You had been a menthol to my life."

I'm not sure how to find the man who dropped this, but it's too beautiful to leave on the gritty asphalt.

What? Wait.... WHAT?

Today I redeemed one of my Christmas gift certificates to a fancy-schmancy makeup boutique here in Stepford. I bought some fresh, top-of-the-line grown-up makeup, and I got a technique lesson, which was sort of nice.

The makeup artist was nice. I brought in my own makeup to see what worked and didn't work with the new stuff, and I thanked her for being honest and not pushing me to buy stuff I didn't need. She commented that she used to work somewhere where people would try to make customers feel bad about the state of their nails or whatever to talk them into acrylic tips. Blah.

So I told her that I fell for that once in college, and then I told her about a different time when I was getting a facial at Beaux Visages (say it with me, Kel) before I moved to Florida. The Beaux Visages woman told me that men would love me in Miami, because "Latin men love meaty women. They say that 'meat is for the man, and bone is for the dog.' And I was like, What? Wait.... WHAT? But she was atacking my pores with needle-nosed tweezers at the time, so I felt like sitting up and screaming, "Did you just call me 'meaty?!?!'" wasn't really an option. I did go back later and ask for my money back on a line of skin care products she guilted me into, and I told her manager about the meaty thing.

So today, the Fancy-Schmancy Makeup Artist was appropriately amused and surprised by my story. Then she said, "Where was this?" So I said, "Oh, at a spa in my hometown in PA." She leaned in really close, and asked, "Was she Korean?"

What? Wait.... WHAT?

What does *that* mean? I sort of laughed and spluttered "No." And she didn't push it.

On the other hand, when I was photographing Passive-Aggressive Bride and Groom's engagement portraits back in October, there were a lot of sight-seeing tours at the state park where we were shooting.

It was a prime leaf-peeping weekend, and a lot of groups of tourists and senior citizens were walking around the lake, taking pictures, etc. When we were done, the Groom was like, "Did you see all the Oriental people looking at your camera?" And I said, "Oh, people are always curious about my gear." So he said, "No, but you know how Orientals love taking pictures." So I said, "No, I don't know. I think it's a tourist thing." And he said, "I think it's an Oriental thing."

I was surprised he pushed it. I wish I were surprised he said it.

My sister's house

My sister's house has got to be one of my favorite places in the world. She and Tom live in this cozy, top-of-an-old-Victorian-house apartment in one of those fun villages at the end of a T line in Boston.

They have skylights, a big tub to soak in, a lightning fast Internet connection, and the kind of office-turned-guestroom that you think only exists in Pottery Barn catalogues. It's homey, and safe, and welcoming. There's a lot of napping on Egyptian cotton sheets.

My sister, being the most generous person I know, always lets me borrow socks or t-shirts or whatever I forgot. She also has an endearing, border-line obsession with bath and body products, which means that you can not only sample that fun, exfoliating fountain-of-youth never-tested-on-animals body butter you've been meaning to get with your next gift certficate, but she's probably already fallen out of love with it, moved on to the latest "On Sale at Sepphora" version, so she lets you take it with you.

Amanda also lets me bring my dog, who- with no hyper 90lb puppy to compete with- spends a great deal of time lolling around in cuddly canine princess mode. The other thing, too, is that my sister's house is organized a lot like our mother's. Forget your toothbrush? Here are five to choose from, still in their original Oral B packaging. Need pots and pans? Bottom cabinet next to the stove.

My own home is also organized partly like my parents' house. But I also adapted some of Amanda's organization ideas when I set up my apartment, so essentially- I can put my hands on bandages, Zip-loc baggies, etc in seven seconds or less.

I guess I love going there because it feels like a vacation, but it also feels like home. I was in a big hurry to leave for Boston on Christmas Eve. I grabbed a mug of tea out of the microwave just before it was done heating up, leaving 5 seconds blinking on the clock. My hands were full, my arms were full, I even had something tucked under my chin, so I didn't clear the time.

Hours later, when I finally arrived at Amanda's house, she and Tom were in NH celebrating with his parents. I found the hidden key, settled the dog, put the presents I brought under the tree, moved all my bags into the guest room and went to grab a can of the omnipresent Diet Coke from the fridge. The kitchen was extremely tidy, only a glass or two in the sink. But as I popped open the can of soda, I saw it. Instead of the time, the microwave displayed 12 seconds blinking on the clock.

Thanks for having us, Manda. :)