This is the true joy of life, the being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one; being a force of nature instead of a feverish, selfish little clod of ailments and grievances, complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy. -- George Bernard Shaw
...about the state of our general health that a major store (which shall remain unnamed) carries children's fat sizes that would totally fit me? I am not a big person, but I am not a tiny person, either.
...about the kind of person I am that I had a moment of, "Hah! I would totally fit into that children's size dress! I'm hot!" Naturally, I immediately felt ashamed and vowed never to admit such twisted vanity to anyone.
Oh well.
In related news, today I saw paper towels advertised as "suave" on their packaging. At first I had a vision of an unctuous paper towel in a seersucker suit and slicked back hair and a pencil mustache, but then -- shocker! -- I thought I should look up the word 'suave,' and see if I had judged too hastily. I had. Merriam-Webster Unabridged Online* defines suave as (1) blandly pleasant especially to the senses (2)(a) smoothly affable and polite though often without deep interest or sincerity : superficially gracious in manner (b) smooth in performance or finish : highly finished. Synonyms include urbane, diplomatic, smooth, bland and politic. Suave suggests polished, smooth, well-mannered facilitation of easy and frictionless dealings with others, with affability, politeness, and persuasiveness all markedly checked from offensive excess or obvious fulness.
So, it appears that 'suave' can describe a very smooth individual, or an excellent paper towel.
*Merriam-Webster Unabridged requires an annual paid subscription. This is in addition to my Oxford American Dictionary and Merriam Webster Premier iPhone apps, for which I also paid money.
One of my signature moves is to totally blow off Christmas shopping until 30 minutes before I'm supposed to drive over to whatever Christmas celebration I'm attending (and by "whatever Christmas celebration I'm attending," I really mean Willow's, because that's where I go every year).
The result is usually some last minute online gift card (bless the internet) or the hurried wrapping of a dead plant or random book off a shelf. What? Like you haven't been there, done that.
I blame this phenomenon not on the fact that I'm a bad friend with other redeeming qualities, but on the fact that stores start the Christmas plug earlier every year. It irritates me to the point that I end up boycotting the whole thing. Anyway, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.
This year, however, the Christmas assault did not start in September. Or in October. And in most cases, not in November yet, either. I think stores are starting to Christmas things up now, but they're starting slowly. It's as if the corporate grand poobahs got together and asked themselves, how can we get Elena in a Christmas shopping spirit this year? And then they came up with a radical idea: back the hell off! (Alternatively, they might be thinking that immoderate materialism might not be appropriate given the political climate. Either or.)
Well, gentlemen (I assume they're men in suits because, you know, The Man), it worked.
It is now about a week before Thanksgiving, I have not seen a ton of Christmas decorations, I have not been assaulted by Christmas music, and I have not been subjected to an overwhelming number of ads for Black Friday. In fact, I have seen none. In fact, I am interested in what Best Buy is doing on Black Friday, and I can't find any info about it. Sweet. Of course, I TiVo through the ads, but when they're everywhere you can't really avoid them.
As a result, or for other reasons that may be unrelated, I am starting to feel the Christmas spirit. I look forward to playing Christmas music starting after Thanksgiving, I fully intend to decorate over the long weekend instead of on Christmas Eve eve, and I have started purchasing Christmas gifts. THIS YEAR'S Christmas gifts, not last year's. I'm just going to give up on last year's at this point.
All y'all should prepare for very public and very inappropriate displays of affection. It can't be helped. I have the Christmas in me.
We spent our last full day of cruising in Aswan; so, not technically cruising. This is Nubian territory. Things look a little different than in Luxor and thereabouts. The city is cleaner, tidier, and prettier than Luxor. I don't think it's because of its size, as we stopped in Essna and Edfu along the way, also small cities, and they weren't lovely. Here we did two things: saw the Temple at Philae, and shopped. Finally, some shopping.
Aswan is where the dam was built to stop the Nile from flooding every year and covering the entire plane with water each time. The problem with that, of course, is that now the fields do not get the benefit of the alluvium that fertilized them. Ah, modern times -- we gain an advantage here, get screwed there. I took a couple of photos of the dams, and almost got in trouble with the Egyptian Army for it. Not really worth it, I might add, boring pics. The first photo is taken from the High Dam (the new one) and the second is of the Low Dam. It's schizo to allow people to take pictures and then get all bent out of shape when they do. Whatever, dudes!
Anyway, the dam(s) created Lake Nasser, 500 kilometers long, with the last 70 or so inside Sudan. Generally, it is not a good idea to cross into Sudan because of getting killed and such. The link above shows the geography
After we saw the dams, we went to the Temple at Philae, also from the Ptolemaic period, the one that ended with the Cleopatra. We had to take a boat to the Temple,
as it's sitting on a little island in Lake Nasser. The temple had to be moved from its original location to its current one after the dam was built because the lake flooded it. It took 8 years to move. They had to build a wall around it, drain all the water out of it, then take it apart stone by stone and put it back together. The temple's architecture is a fusion of Egyptian and Greco-Roman styles.
This is a temple to the goddess Isis. She was Osiris' wife, and was the goddess who civilized the world by instituting marriage (peanut gallery comments re civilization and marriage should be made in the comments) and teaching women the domestic arts. I think she might have missed me. (Further peanut gallery comments welcome in the comments.) Oh well. Anyway, Osiris was murdered and hacked to pieces by his evil brother Seth. Isis put him back together and revived him briefly to have a son with him, the god Horus. I know you think that's kinda gross, but if you think about how the pharaohs married their own brothers and sisters, sometimes mother and fathers, and then had more children who would intermarry, making the family tree more like a thick, web-footed and one-eyed branch, this doesn't seem so bad. Horus later destroyed Seth and avenged his father's murder. The representations on the left were chiselled out by Christians and iconoclasts because apparently the ones on the left were a sin or something and the ones on the right were ok. So all over the temple, reliefs are chiselled out on the left, and intact on the right. It's interesting that we can thank religious fanatism for so much art and sculpture, and equally for so much destruction of art and culture.
This is a Maltese cross, this temple was also used by later worshippers. There are Coptic graffiti all over the place, too. This is the altar from which the Coptic priest would preach. If you stand with your back to it, and look out, all the visible hieroglyphs and reliefs have been chiselled out, allegedly so that the priest wouldn't have to look at the sacrilegious art. Everywhere else, they left it alone. I supposed we can be grateful for either discretion or laziness. I think we should have a rule that you can build and sculpt and paint to your heart's content, for religious or any other purpose, but you can't deface or destroy other people's stuff for religious or other reasons, even if you think it's a mortal sin. That's the new rule. Especially since religions seem to come and go, and change, and everyone's got their own interpretation that they think is the right one, which makes me think none of them are, or all of them are, which means no one's art should be defaced. There. I said it.
This little temple is known as Trajan's Kiosk, and was built by a Roman emperor.
This is me, obvy, taking a breather with the lake behind me. I have more photos of me in front of monuments, but my dad has those. Once I get them, I'll do a whole post of photos of me and monuments - bet you can't wait.
Then, as I mentioned, we shopped. First, we went to a place called Essence of Life. They sell essential oils (both for medicinal uses, such as mint and eucalyptus, and for cosmetic uses, such as flower essences and some perfume oils). I got the following oils: mint and eucalyptus for respiratory issues; sandalwood for muscle/joint pain; lettuce oil for weight loss (I wasn't really that interested, but I wanted 6 and then 2 were free so I picked this one), black seed oil for gatroinstestinal problems, royal amber for anxiety (and it smells great, too), a perfume called Secret of the Desert and flower of sakara. I am using the sandalwood on my hip and ankle. Did I mention my right ankle is a little tweaked? Has been for a while. I don't even pay attention to it all that much, there's only so much time and energy I have to deal with my various and sundry injuries, you know? Anywho, it's mostly old injuries acting up, so I hope the sandalwood will help.
While I was there, I also bought an 18k gold cartouche, with the key of life and scarab on one side, and my name in hieroglyphs on the other side. Either that, or it says something like butthead. I probably spent about twice as much on it as I planned, but I have no regrets. I would have kicked myself if I hadn't gotten one. I'll add a photo later.
Tomorrow: Ramses II's temples at Abu Simbel (glorious!). And the day after that, at last, the pyramids and me on a camel looking stupid. I'm very proud of having gotten on a camel.
[Ivy's version of events is threaded through this post in italics]
SHOPPING! SHOPPING! SHOPPING! / OH, ELENA!
Every now and again, I need new clothes. This past year I have not bought too many, especially suits, because I have spent a good chunk of my discretionary income on photo stuff. But, since I can't wear my camera, fig-leaf style, to court -- trust me; I asked -- I decided it was time for a shop. As usual, and to avoid sizing mistakes (i.e., buying clothes 2 sizes too big), I consulted with my shopping consultant friend, Ivy the Monkey Goddess.
The thing is, I am not a shopper. By that I mean that I don't like to browse, not much at all. I like to know what I'm looking for, where to go to get it, and then get it. I don't mind spending some time checking out the various options, like trying on clothes, but an aimless, timeless shopping affair is not my thing. I get a little crazy and claustrophobic at the mere thought.
Ivy, on the other hand, loves to shop. She likes to browse, find good deals, check out sales, and so on. And now that we've been shopping together for years -- or rather, she has helped me shop for years; I don't return the favor, because I'm a bad friend -- she also knows what works for me (NO RUFFLES! I just look like a gay pirate, not that there's anything wrong with that) and can help me sort through the racks and racks of clothes that just confuse and frustrate me.
Specifically, when we arrive at the chosen store, she makes a beeline for the sales rack and whatever other rack is relevant to our purposes with me in tow in a zombie-like state of submission, and pulls stuff out and hands it to me. She remembers my sizes, for heaven's sake! When we have a sufficient number of items for me to try on, we retire to the fitting rooms, where I try everything on, and she pretends not to have to stare at my butt under those awful changing room lights.
Friday was the day for it. The office closed early, so we took off and first had a late lunch at Cheesecake Factory. I had some kind of steak, Ivy had Shepard's pie. The remains of the pie came home with me.
With full stomachs and high spirits, off we went across the parking lot to the mall. On this trip we were again successful in findind me clothes, which made Ivy quite happy and me not suicidal from shopping stress. I got some excellent work clothes at Ann Taylor, and a prezy for my friend Dee (squeak!). A good time was had by all. I am also pleased to report that my pant size has gone down. The sizing used to be 6P for the jackets, and 8 for the pants. Now it's 6P for the jacket, and 6 for the pants. Yay. Oh and everything at Ann Taylor was 40% off, so DOUBLE SCORE!
Elena and I make a funny pair of friends because we're so different. I LOVE SHOPPING. ELENA HATES SHOPPING. So, I've happily become her shopping guide when, every once in a great while, when she absolutely can't help it anymore, she tells me she needs clothes. About a month and a half later (after more stalling), we head to the mall. Today was one of those days, and it worked out great because we got out of work early and ate before shopping, so Elena was less tired/frazzled/hungry/fearful.
What I do is lead her around the mall, heap clothes upon her to try on, and provide critical-yet-supportive commentary. What Elena does is try to make it as loud and embarrassing as possible. That's another difference between us. She laughs her way through life being unabashedly in your face. I laugh through life too, through various stages of mortification.
The shopping started off with a little rough patch, because Elena's sizes were largely sold out, causing a silent, growing CRANKINESS within. However, a wiser voice within told me DON'T STRESS OUT ELENA. MAKE THIS FUN. REMEMBER TO SMILE! Then, a pair of really nice suiting pants fit Elena like a dream, and the shopping sun came out, basking us in the glow of great fitting style and 40% off! We were on a roll after that.
But that's not all.
Once the main shopping was done, we were now free to be weird. It all began with Ivy's feet. We had been walking around a bit, or at least standing around, and she noticed that her feet looked particularly red on the bottom. To wit:
This, and the following pics, are all cell phone photos. Remember, we're not going for quality here. The picture above was taken in the dressing room at Talbot's, where I tried on a bold red blazer that will look faboo with my new grey pants, and which was on sale for 50% off. I had on a top that did not work with the blazer at all, so I just whipped it off to try the blazer on over my bra (ooh, I said 'bra'!). This cracked up Ivy and the sales lady, who was either very amused or very embarrassed. The top was a very casual cotton top from GAP, and I didn't feel it was necessary to turn it the right way to put it back on, so backwards it went. Just to prove it:
Yes, I'm a savage. What!?
I point out that the sign to my right says "More Sales More Profits" and it is next to an empty kiosk. Yes, Captain Obvious, if I was selling things at this kiosk, I would be making more profits. Pfft.
Of course, the shopping excursion did not end without taking photos of cracked out window displays and wimpy shopping feet (mine; they just have to suck it up), and Elena completely taking off her top to try on a blazer in front of the sales lady (I specifically told her to remove ONE layer) and then putting it back on inside out and wearing it like that the rest of the time. I smiled and sighed. Elena proudly proclaimed that she was redefining sexy.
We walked around to a few other stores, and passed by some creepy window displays. For example, the headless mannequins. It was the hat that turned my head, as it were.
Some might not agree, and perhaps even call me a fashion nazi, but I find that when headless, a hat just draws attention to that defect. It's as if you painted your large nose orange - why draw the eye to the appendage unnecessarily, when you can accentuate other, more flattering assets?
On the opposite spectrum of creepiness are the bodiless yet surprisingly mirthful heads.
Speaking of creepy window displays, this one from Ivy from an earlier shopping trip:
Apparently, this is an English clothing store. The "child" babushka thingy on the end rotates, and, I must point out, is naked. At first, I thought this was a man, a woman, and a child -- a family. On closer inspection, it appears they are a large man, a medium man, and a happy naked adolescent. Either that or the woman has a wicked mustache. The middle guy looks he's plotting an evil plot. I withhold further comment, except to suggest that window display designers not be high while doing their work.
At last, we got tired and it was time to go home. We had to walk through Sears to get to the parking lot. We started through, when a couple of Land's End easy chairs beckoned enticingly, and we decided we needed a breather.
Here's Ivy, splendid and languid. In the foreground, you can just see some shoes and a striped bag, which we took down from some display areas to play with. No one sent us away, which was lovely of them.
I have no shoes on because I took them off to try on the Land's End shoes while I sat there. Plus it would have been rude to put my shoes on the chair. Did I mention that the Sears people were lovely for not shooing us off?
At last we rested enough to make it the additional 50 yards (if that) to the car, where I made Ivy sniff this delicious bear's butt:
It's a little bear, about 4" high, gifty by Dee, and it's a floral smelling bear that usually hangs in the car and whose butt I stick into every passenger's nose and say, "Smell this bear's butt!" It smells great, I promise.
Thus ended our shopping spree. There was food, clothes, mirth, creepiness, silliness, a sweet/tart lemonade that gave us a stomach ache, and best of all, time hanging out with my friend Ivy.
Oh, and in case you were wondering about the squeaky gift for Dee, here's a very quick video. [Linky here if the video does not play for you.]
Despite the kidney infection, I had to go buy shoes today. You know how that is. Specifically, I needed little sandals for the wedding I'm going to in Florida next weekend, and it was now or never. Of course, LA is one of the few places you can you go sandal shopping in October.
Thankfully I woke up almost pain-free this morning. The antibiotics and I are getting along splendidly, thankyouverymuch. While I'm up here, I would like to also thank my lady days, who kindly waited until today to hit me with the cramps. Nice body, good body.
Normally, I avoid modeling clothes or shoes I buy, because I think I barely look presentable. Specifically, I think I have an ugly body and who wants to see that? I mean, if I think I don't look horrible, it's a win for me. But lately I have decided that I will no longer think of any part of my body as anything other than fabulous. I know it's not perfect, far from it, but tough shit. It is not self-loathing that will make me look better, is it?
Additionally, recently a couple of friends made comments such as "I hate my [insert body part]." The comments struck me as unusually violent. I hear people (um, women) make comments like that all the time, and I've made comments like that about some body part or other of mine. But my reaction recently to women saying things like that about their bodies is "Don't be mean to [insert body part]."
So, rather than preach, I decided to practice. Hence, without further ado, here are the shoes I bought today. And incidentally, they were all but one pair on sale, and the pair not on sale was very affordable, so I spent waaaay less than you think I did. Waaaaayyyyyy less.
These are the sandals for the wedding. The attire is beach casual, in case you're concerned that I'm not dressy enough. I got them at some little store with lame customer service, but they were super cheap, so that's fine. The next three pairs are from Aerosoles, and they're work/evening out shoes. They're all very comfortable, and I would like to ease out of always wearing hiking shoes if I can. So here goes. I like the buckle on these flats. These are a little high for me right now, but I can use them for work events or dinner out when there is not much walking or standing around. These last ones are a little more straight-laced, but I like the heel and they can go either with a suit or with jeans. Dress up or dress down. Can't lose with that, right?
Next month: clothes!
What's interesting, too, is that when I took these pictures I thought, eeewww, am I really going to post these? Then I made a conscious shift in attitude. Now, an hour later, I'm all, hey that looks fine, what's the big deal?
... then Mohammed will have the mountain custom made!
As some of you have noticed, I like to take pictures. Not necessarily photographs, really, mostly pictures. I'll photograph just about anything. I think it makes things more interesting. I may even start doing more lame drawings. I'm thinking about it. Anyway.
So I have a good camera, a Nikon DSLR, and a toy camera that I carry with me at all times and when I'm travelling light. Of course, my toy camera cost $400, but that's another story. This is the camera:
It is a Nikon Coolpix P100 and it's a little bigger than your average portable camera, but I was sold by the 26x optical zoom. For a camera this size, it's a really excellent lens. I use it quite a bit, as it turns out, so I'm happy with my choice. The only problem has been is finding a little bag or skin to protect it when it sits in my purse. Finally, I opted for a custom-made deerskin gusseted satchel from Oh!Boyd. The bags are made when you order them, and you can customize them to fit whatever you need them to hold.
So, without further ado, I give you the newly arrived baggie for my toy camera:
It fits perfectly (the camera is inside it in the first picture), takes up zero extra room in my purse, and it provides just enough protection for the camera. The light color may get dirty, but I wanted it light so that if I'm outside and it sits in the sun it won't be a mini-oven for the camera. Not sure if that was a good call or not, but I love it.
You might remember this stunningly insightful post of mine from a few months ago, Resistance Is Futile, about privacy and the internet: I posed the question of whether in this age of online connectedness we are losing privacy or gaining community. My take is that we're gaining community, or at least, that's what I see as being the more important side of that coin, and if privacy is the thing I have to give up, I am delighted to do so.
One aspect of the internet that I am increasingly taken by is that it is a forum of creativity and innovation. I know this comes as no news to anyone, but you can find anything on the internet, and even some things you didn't know existed.
To wit: a couple of recent purchases of mine and one by Ms. Ranty Pants. I shall begin with the latter. Ms. Ranty Pants is an avid (and increasingly talented) photographer. As such, she should have the right camera bag, which she found and custom ordered at Priddy Creations. I mean, why the hell would you buy a plain ol' camera bag when you can have one of these? And if you think these are a little too floral for, say, straight men photographers, I say to you that not so long ago straight men would not have been caught dead in a pink shirt, and now it's considered very stylish and gentlemanly. I might agree that if you are a photographer embedded with the Marines in the mountains of Afghanistan you might choose a more camouflagey color palette, but whatever, you're not going to be in Afghanistan your whole life, and in fact you might celebrate your homecoming with a bit of flower power.
But I digress.
The purchases I made have been a while coming. The first is a fountain pen. I used to write with fountain pens when I was in school, but lost the habit when I went to college. Occasionally I find one I like a little and use it, but finding the right fountain pen is not easy, there is not really a fountain pen culture here in the U.S. (no one is perfect, after all). A recent spate of fountain pen purchases by a blogger friend in a different country, whose taste in writing implements I trust, brought me to this:
which you can find at JetPens.com. What appealed to me about this pen was not just the look, but also that it has a medium nib. I like writing implements that leave a thick mark, not those scratchy little superfine things.
The other purchase relates to my new camera, the fabulous Nikon Coolpix P100, which as portable snapshot cameras go is very impressive. I have been looking for a small case or a skin to protect it because I carry it around in my purse all the time. Then I came upon Oh!Boyd, where they make leather bullet bags among othe things (though I can't say I'm likely to carry bullets around any time soon - wait a minute, I just had an idea for a certain friend's next birthday, but he has to actually remind me in time next year - that's right, you know who you are). They also make them custom if you have something that won't fit in the bags as they are. Click here to see the pouch I'm ordering. Cool, right?
So there it is. My shoutout to creativity, as brought to you by the intertubes. This post of course only touches on the surface of what's out there. The other day, for instance, my ubernerd friend Ian sent me a link to online comics. Who knew? But of course, it makes perfect sense.
Yes, people, on July 11 I turn 42 years old. That is absolutely shocking to me. Shocking. I'm sure I will have pithy pronouncements about wisdom and getting older and all that blahdy blah at some point, and no doubt I will share them with you. But really, what's important about my birthday is the possibility of presents. Let's be clear: presents are absolutely NOT necessary or expected. But some of us can't (won't) help it and we must give something - a card, flowers, a lunch invitation, whatever. If you are one of those people, bless your heart, and please do not give me any of those things, or any gadget, book, article of clothing, decorative art or anything like that. I have enough stuff, and we're going to hang out anyway at some point in the near future, irrespective of my or your birthday.
If you simply cannot help yourself, you can contribute to my camera upgrade. You see, I have an amazing DSLR, and that is not being upgraded, it doesn't need to be, it's perfect and will be for many more years. However, my little portable camera gets upgraded every couple of years, in part because the technology improves by leaps and bounds. I cannot carry around my DSLR all the time, but I do carry my portable camera all the time. And by all the time, I mean, ALL. THE. TIME. You know this to be true, because if you've been around me for more than 5 minutes, I have taken your picture.
Any contribution is fine: from the $3 you were going to spend on the card, to the $20 you would have spent on lunch or whatever. You can call this my birthday registry, even though it only has one item on it.
So, without further ado, here's my next camera. I like to call it ... Jonathan Livingston Camera.
It is the new Nikon CoolPix P100, with 26x optical zoom. Yes, I said 26x OPTICAL zoom. That is freakin' out of this world. And even though for all the world it looks like a DSLR from the front, it isn't, it's quite a bit smaller. Well, ok, the zoom sticks out a bit, but that's to be expected because it is a TWENTY-SIX TIMES OPTICAL ZOOM. Cripes. Me want.
I have already started saving up for it. By next month the price will probably have dropped a bit.
The shorts arrived. I'm testing them this morning, on a walk. They look okay, except they make my calves look pretty fat. On the plus side, I don't have kankles. Kankles are the worst. I'd die if I had kankles. Literally, I would die.
They arrived just in time, it's gonna be a hot day.
This post was going to be titled Classy and Sassy, because I am showing off my new purse.
Which is perhaps not very visible here, but it's leather, from Sundance, and classic enough to be used for work, but it's also red and casual, which is pretty much me to a T. So, yes, I am leathery, classic, red and casual. Eh-hem. And yes, it's all part of the plan to redefine sexy. But you know what? Ivy approves of the purchase, so that is all I need to know.
Anyway, earlier in the day I went to lunch with my friend Kirke, who told me I looked less than my very best. I was all, fuckyou I look fine. Well, I didn't say that, obvy, it was more like pffft, but you know what I mean. No matter, he fed me cheddar fries at Islands.
I had Ivy take the above picture so I could show off the purse (which you can also see here). Don't judge me because of the price, I buy one purse per year, maybe per two years. I am not a purse changer, I get one basic purse and use it until it begins to look ratty, and then I get a new one. Oh yes, sexy is not what you thought anymore. At that point I was all, ohfuck I do look terrible.
The above picture is part of the below picture, in which I truly look like I've been run over by a manure truck, which then backed up and flipped its back open and dropped a pile of shit on me and knocked my wig askew. And I would like to point out that I'M WEARING MAKEUP HERE! Oh lordy. And I'm just going to say it: for the love of Jesus and all the saints, what is going on with my hair? Right now my mom is going, I told you to comb your hair this morning. And I'm thinking, maybe she was right.
In the background, by the way, is Jamaar's exercise ball, which can be found in any random attorney's office at any given time. I for one use it for back bends - that's when I lie back on it with my head hanging off it, arms flailing to the side, and making some pleasure moan of pleasure because back bends are oh so sweet.
I also notice that there appears to be something wrong with my pants - I look like I spilled something on my own pants and am now wearing some large man's pants just so I don't wander about the office in my panties, which is not strictly professional, at least not for the profession I'm in (lawyer, damn it, lawyer!).
