Test run... giving it another go

Things that make my heart sail over the moon:

1. Tomatoes plucked fresh from the garden, juice running down my chin
2. Random calls, texts, emails, cards from friends who were "just thinking about you"
3. The smell of fresh laundry
4. Laughing so hard I worry I might pee a little
5. Not actually peeing when I laugh that hard
6. Long showers in the afternoon with nowhere to go afterwards
7. Crawling back in bed after a long shower
8. The love and admiration I have for my beautiful friends who have become beautiful parents
9. Hearing my Mama say "I love you" in her wonderfully awful accent before she hangs up
10. Hugging a friend and and realizing they mean it as much as I do

O.M.G.

Yesterday The ExMister and I were waiting at the airport to pick up a friend. While sitting at the Sam Adams bar and having a chat, a gaggle of 8th grade morons tried to descend but were quickly turned away by the bartender.
Our conversation:

"Thank goodness you have to be 18 to sit here. Whoosh!"

"Did they say their flight was cancelled?"

"I don't know... all I heard was '...walla walla walla Kelly Clarkson...' and I ordered another round."

Have you seen that AllState commercial...?

"TURN YOUR FUCKING CAR OFF! TURN YOUR FUCKING CAR OFF! TURN OFF THE ENGINE! STOP STOP STOP! TURN YOUR FUCKING CAR OFF!!!"

I heard this through my open windows last night. It was my Aunt Jane yelling to the man who had driven through her bedroom window. Living almost directly above the scene prevented me from fully assessing the situation and I honestly thought the man had just hit the wall where the boiler room is located.

Much to my surprise, a wobbly 60-something-year-old man had driven his car into Aunt Jane's bedroom window located just off the alley beside our apartment building.

Luckily, the bedroom was empty of people as it was not quite nine and Aunt Jane was hanging about her living room. Most importantly nobody was hurt. The driver was shaken and stirred. Aside from yelling for the man to turn the car off because smoke, exhaust and antifreeze were pouring into her bedroom, Aunt Jane was the picture of calm.

As Aunt Jane says with a laugh, her bedroom looks like Beirut without the bodies. There is glass everywhere; embedded in the opposite wall 16 feet away. Antifreeze permeates the air. Shards of mortar mix with glass. There are tire marks on her drapes. The force of the crash ripped the closet door off; strangely, the hinges and splinters of wood are still attached to the wall, but the door is not attached to ...well the door is not attached to anything. It flew across the room.

She and I cleaned all morning. Vacuuming everything, laundering, finding glass in the most bizarre places was a good release, and though I've now seen the wreckage, it's not easy to wrap your head around tire tracks on the inside of your window sill.

Amazons and Pygmies.

Moms and my sister, Talent, came to visit last week.

They stayed with me and shared an aerobed in my living room. I stumbled past the living room on my way to fuel the jets with coffee. My commotion apparently awoke the dead (read: Moms and Talent).

Talent had no shame complaining about Moms and her snoring, however, I had to jump in. "Talent! Are you kidding? When I walked past, poor Moms had one foot on the floor and and ass cheek hanging off because you had taken up the entire bed!"

Talent is 5'10". Moms is 5'4". I am 5'1". Talent dwarfs me (still I appreciate her funky stylings and the growth spurts that provide the super cool hand-me-ups.)

However, I have to share a bed with the Amazonian Snuggler for a month while we are in Europe. You'll read about it in the news: Small Sister Smothered in Sleep by Sister... Yeah, she looks nice enough, but you can tell she's just plotting how to strangle me with her curly mass of hair.

Powers. Super Powers.

This morning a co-worker asked, "Is your last name Power or PowerS?"

"It takes two wings to fly, buddy."

Thank you, I'm here all week.

************
Alright, alright... I've been writing like a 15 year-old learning to drive stick: start stop start sputter stop lurch start.
I'm working on it and here's a little catch-up on all that may or may not be Super.

The past few months have been tornado-like. Hopefully it's scooted past and I'm not just blindly walking around in quiet of the eye. In no particular order I went to Europe, got a new job, lost an uncle to a terribly progressive cancer, gotten divorced, remained best friends despite divorcing, hidden from friends and family so as not to cause worry, cleared away the cobwebs and spent a lot of time reassuring loved ones that I am, in fact, okay.

And I am okay. Remarkably brightly looking ahead, pressing on and smiling to knock 'em dead.

Come July my sister, Talent, and I are jetting off to Europe for a month. I can't believe we're doing it and the reality is finally settling in. And I could not be more excited! Details coming soon. Patience, Young Jedi's.

Which is cooler? Mayor Fenty or DC Blogs?

Woo-hooo DC Blogs!
Here I was thinking about putting my pen in my pocket indefinitely and a shout out from DC Blogs has given me renewed hope. l

Today I called a cutie to say, "You won't believe my day. It's been so very cool! You know how yesterday I told you about trying to get a cab in Dupont? Well, I have this blog and there's this website... and wow, now that I think about it, this sounds a hell of allot geekier than I thought it would. Ah, hell, regardless... Not only did I meet the Mayor and asked a fabulously pertinent question that made me seem super smart, but DC Blogs cited me on it's main page!."

Mayor Fenty is quite a hottie and I never would have guessed from seeing him on television.

It's possibly I shouldn't equate meeting the Mayor in a small intimate setting with being cited on DC Blogs, but really I'm not sure which is more exciting.

Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo!

This is what I wished had happened:

After having lunch at a lovely restaurant and thinking, "Well, today was okay. I'm okay. I kick ass and that wasn't too bad.", I walked to Dupont Circle to hop on a bus going home. I waited, waited and waited some more and decided perhaps my cards pointed to a cab.

My little arm shot up and waved away. The first cabby stopped only to tell me my fare was not worth his time. Apparently the next three agreed with his logic and all drove off with some semblance of "No, no, I can't go there."

The fourth denial led me to yell, "JESUS FUCKING CHRIST WHAT KIND OF DICK DOES IT TAKE TO GET A FUCKING CAB IN DUPONT CIRCLE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FUCKING DAY?"

As I turned around to re-man my post at the corner, I looked up to see a gay couple eyes wide and mouths agape, obviously mortified at my outburst. Realizing what I'd just done, I got a little embarrassed; explaining "I'm sorry! I got divorced this morning."

The taller of the two sized me up and said, "Oh honey! We're gonna get you a cab!" as he started flailing his arms at any and all cars that drove past.

I gotta tell ya... if you ever need a cab in Dupont Circle the only way to hail one is with two queens on a mission of No Man Left Behind. I've never gotten home so quickly.

Instead, I was truly passed up by four cabbies and definitely yelled the whole "jfc blah blah dick in dupont" and then waited for-fucking-ever only to be charged a double fare. Karma anyone? Regardless, maybe I'll stick something like that in my next book. I really think we all need a fairy-god-mother and if you're ever going to find one, don't you think your chances are better in Dupont Circle?

Country funny: it's home grown.

Truly, I believe the following to be one of my funniest moments ever; however, those without country upbringing, sensibility and sense of humor, may not find the belly laugh. My family still refers to this line, (albeit after a few drinks) while pointing at their own front yards.
*******
Upon arriving at my friend's home in a suburb just outside of Philadelphia, I was not immediately welcomed with hugs and booze. Instead, my friends rapidly apologized for the disarray and neglect of the neighbor's house and yard, noting specifically the not one, not two, but three cars sitting atop cinder blocks.
They ended the apology with, "As you can see by the flag in the window... he's from West Virginia."

Rather than embarrass everybody by noting I grew up in West-By-God, I simply said, "Well, you can take the man out of West Virginia, but you can't take the car out of his yard."

MY NOSE KNOWS!

Allergy insanity, already? Perhaps somebody should have warned me about this fifteenth day of March. "Beware the ides of March, dear Super, your head may rupture. Get thee to the apothecary, petition for Zyrtec!"

I've written about it before... Claritin is a joke. "Claritin Clear" my ass - OF COURSE YOU'RE CLEAR, THE PILLS ARE MADE OF SUGAR. Zyrtec is the only thing that works to fight super allergies and at $50 smackers (that I just don't have), I am left with a headache lasting 3 days. Claritin ends up being just as expensive, but the crap couldn't prevent an allergy attack in Antarctica. The difference is you can buy Claritin a few pills at a time which is a little more reasonable for my pocketbook.
******
"Oops, I dropped my cape!" The normal solution is to bend over and retrieve it. However, without Zyrtec, bending over results in blinding pain right behind my eyes. I see dead people. And those people are the insurance assholes who tell me Claritin is an over-the-counter alternative to Zyrtec.

That's like trying to buy a porche and being told, "Here ya' go! This lovely 1983 Oldsmobile Firenza is fabulous. You'll never know the difference!"

Europe, Part Three. (Pack a great attitude!)

Here is the third installment of my European trip. This is the final email sent to my family and friends, but I'm sure I'll have more to tell as I remember.

On Sunday, I spoke to my friend in Germany whom I was supposed to visit. Mind you, it was my birthday and I was a bit put off that he cancelled citing "a nasty breakup with his girlfriend." I wanted to say, "Now, lookey here, Mister, this kinda messes up my trip!" but, of course, I told him it was fine and I understood.

Then I hung up the phone and thought to myself, "Well, screw it! I'll go to Paris." So I did.

My friend, Arrogant Dutchman (AD), asked about my Germany plans and I told him the details and I'd decided to go to Paris. He was a bit surprised at my spontaneity, but offered to go along to Paris! Very cool of him seeing as how he speaks French and knows the city quite well. And I don't speak French and have never been to the city. We jumped a four hour train to Pareee and were there by the afternoon.

Straight to the Louvre where quite frankly, I was overwhelmed. First of all, there were so many people (read: idiots) being stupid. Pushing, shoving, stopping in the middle of a stairway, IDIOTS. Mostly, I enjoyed the David room -amazing HUGE paintings of historical events. Unbelievable. I was somewhat underwhelmed by the Mona Lisa; quite honestly all those people making a scene kinda detracts from the experience; the same was true for the Venus. Okay, okay... truth be told, I'd worn a pair of socks in which the seam rubbed my baby toe raw and I could hardly stand it. At one point, AD stopped after a flight of stairs and asked what was wrong with my face. I didn't know what he meant until he said every time we approached stairs my face would tense up. I told him I might need to stop a moment to cut off my baby toe. Knowing my time in Paris was pressed, I forced a smile and kept on going.

After the Louvre closed, I needed medication for my ailing foot. Medication comes in the form of alcohol, and with all the excitement and pain, I drank far too much at THE COOLEST BAR EVER. This bar was nothing but wine and books (read: HEAVEN!).

The next day was gorgeous. Mid-50s and sunshine prompted sunglasses (the hangover may have insisted the sunglasses), and grabbing a sandwich for a morning in the park. AD read a newspaper and seeing as how I can't read French, I just ate my sandwich and watched people. Mostly it was people making out, but I did make two observations: French men are gross; French women posses something 'special' that I can only hope for. Seriously, French men are lacking in hygiene and manners and do not NOT NOT deserve those beautiful French women. TWICE, while walking the streets, French men made kissy noises at me. The first time, AD laughed; the second time the offenders were three 16-ish looking boys, so AD smiled and put his arm around me. After the boys passed AD had the biggest laugh about the whole thing. I wanted to throw him into the Seine for his shenanigans.

I asked AD about what makes French women so 'special' and we agreed it's just something inexplicable. This leads me to the best moment I had in Paris. I WAS STOPPED BY AN ITALIAN WOMAN TRYING TO ASK ME DIRECTIONS IN FRENCH. An Italian woman thought I was French. I looked at AD and said, "You realize what just happened?" and he said something like, "Yeah, we won't be able to fit your giant head back on the train."

Then to the Museum D'Orsay. This museum ranked up there with the Van Gogh museum for me. It was beautiful itself, laid out well, and just nice to be in. Not to mention, they had four paintings of a series of 26 by Monet. Two of the cathedral paintings are in the DC National Gallery of Art and I absolutely love them. To see four more of the series took my breath away and I was a little overwhelmed. I did not know the paintings were housed in the D'Orsay and I was taken aback.

The next day was just wandering around the city until taking the train back to Amsterdam just in time to make it to a concert at the Concergebouw Orchestra! I know the Concertgebouw for a couple of reasons: 1) I worked at a classical music station and many of my favorite classical music recordings were produced there; 2) The acoustics are known worldwide for being near perfect. Amazing. Afterwards, I met up with Awout, Suzann and AD at a pub right by the concert hall. There were a bunch of the musicians from the concert there and it was just a very great time.

Thursday I made it (finally!) to the Rijksmuseum, and was fully relieved to find it under construction. It only took a couple of hours to make it through the limited collection and as I had grabbed my empty shoulder bag, I decided I needed two things before leaving Europe: books and music. I stopped into the coolest music store, Concerto, and bought a bundle of music that I'd heard while there, but isn't available in the States. Then I went to a bookstore and filled my bag with bookish treats. Seeing as how I'd read all of my books on the trains, it was necessary. Really.

Again, dinner and drinks with my new friends (who tried to talk me into staying! ha!) and a very very nice way to end an amazing trip.

Now I just have to plan my return...

Much love to all!
Super

Europe, Part Two. (Like riding a bike...)

Email update #2 from Super's European Adventures... Stay tuned, I throw a curve ball in update #3!

Hallo!
Today's email update will be a little shorter and somewhat a preview of what I've been up to.
What a few busy days!

Friday was amazing as I took the train to Lieden, a small college town about 30-40 minutes outside of town. Awout, Suzann's boyfriend, is a scholar at the law school there and offered to show me around. At first I was skeptical, wondering what could be so special about it, but it may have been the most charming city I have ever witnessed. There was a certain glow about the town giving it a magical feel. This is mostly a town made of the university, however, it is from where the Pilgrims came. Their version of 'old' is far better than ours! And all the tiny houses along the canals made it all a little bit dreamy at twilight. After Leiden, Arrogant Dutchman and I went to the National Ballet which was a little kitchy, but the dancing and orchestra were quite good.

Saturday morning began early as Arrogant Dutchman (AD) and I took the train about an hour outside of Amsterdam to Wegeningen and visited his mother and father, Tessa and Henk. As we were putting our coats on to go to the train station AD looks at me with a little worry and says, "You DO know how to cycle, right?"
Honestly, the only way I could answer was, "I... I... I'm not sure." The trouble on his face was disconcerting but we pressed on.

Tessa took us to the National Park where we rode bicycles to a fabulous museum in the middle of the forest. The way it works is, there are all these bicycles that belong to the park and you pick one out and ride around all day or ride to the museum. AD and I had another shared moment of panic when we could not find a bicycle with pedals I could reach. There was a brief time of me eyeballing a kids bicycle and saying, "Oh please please please NO." Then, Tessa spotted a tandem bike and suggested AD and I ride that. Sheer panic struck his face and it became his mission to find me my own.

After finding a fit, I then had to mount and ride the damn thing. Mind you, I have not been on a bike since possibly high school... fifteen years. It was also a challenge as I was bundled up in my long winter coat. I knew I was going to die.

However, obviously, I did not die and in fact did not even crash! And I only got caught up in one tree. I won't elaborate... it's too hard to explain how I managed to find myself stuck in the branches of a tree not even close to the paved trail.

We pedaled away and arrived at the Kroller-Muller Museum which is: A magnificent amalgamation of art, architecture and nature. Amidst unspoilt natural surroundings, the Kröller-Müller Museums collection centres on the extensive collection of works by Vincent van Gogh and the world famous sculpture garden.
And there was this little gem of which a print hangs in my kitchen. I'm so disgusted with the print after seeing the real thing...

That was the majority of the day, then they had me over for dinner for a bit of Dutch lifestyle. Very nice time but my ass hurts from the bicycle. But yes, I. RODE. A. BICYCLE. AND. DID. NOT. DIE.
More to come!
Love,
Super

Europe, Part One.

After much thought, I've decided not to hang up my cape and retire the blog. I'm back from Europe and can not wait for my next visit! To catch you up, here is an email I sent to family and friends while there. I will follow with other email instalments made during my visit.

Hello!
I just wanted to check in and let you know I'm doing quite well with my trip. The jet lag was horrible due to not one, not two but THREE babies crying the entire flight over. I felt badly for the babies, and quite frankly, having taken an Ambien with a glass of wine made me loopy. With the racket, drugs and wine I may or may not have been a disaster upon arrival. My schedule is still a bit wonky, but I'm working it out.
Wednesday I wandered around the city a bit and visited a couple of churches. The first church was your typical gaudy monstrosity that leaves you wondering just what to gawk at next. The second church I visited was a very neat 'hidden' Catholic church. It was built inside the attics of three houses during the prosecution of the Catholics. From the outside, it looks like a normal row of houses, but inside and up a windy staircase there is a large church. There were even two balconies and an organ! The organ was very cool as it was quite small; only 4 1/2 octaves and the keys and pipes were tiny.
Here I was going to try to find a clever way to segue into "The Miracle of Amsterdam", but really, it's too strange. Regardless, I want to tell the story because it's all over here. I'm going to get this wrong, but here goes anyhow... Waaaaaaaay back when, there was a man on his deathbed who a priest visited to administer the sacrament. The man vomited up the sacrament into a chamber pot. When the contents of the pot were dumped into the garbage and incinerated, everything was burned except the pristine sacrament. My reaction is along the lines of "Yuck.", but the people here think it's a pretty great miracle.
Yesterday, I spent the day at the Van Gogh museum and if I get the chance, I want to re-visit before I leave here! The museum was phenomenal and seeing so many impressionist works was beautiful! I truly love Van Gogh and it was the best collection I could have hoped for. After the museum closed, I met up with my friend, Arrogant Dutchman, and four of his (whom I now consider MY friends, as well!) friends for dinner and drinking. It was a lot of fun and they were all great people. One girl, Suzanne, was particularly nice and we compared our political party systems. Quite interesting; The Netherlands has many parties and smart voters have to think more strategically rather than just voting their heart, so to speak. Otherwise, the Parliament can end up with a very divided vote and nothing will get accomplished.
Today I am going to the Rijksmuseum and will have more to report after that!
Much love,
Super

Friday funny!

While talking to Radio Goddess this morning, she asked, "Have you packed yet?"

I informed her "Of course not; I wouldn't have any clothes to wear. However, I did get out my little red suitcase. There it sits, empty and alone in the corner... you know, like the emo kids."

Simple Gifts: The Bad

For Christmas my eighteenth tumultuous, angry and parental-despising year, I was given luggage.

I took it as a hint and promptly burst into tears.

The lesson this time was: Sometimes a banana is just a banana.

Simple Gifts: The Good

Recently inspired by Defective Yeti's inspiration, I have been thinking about gifts: The good, the bad, and the ugly.

I begin with The Good:

Since my teenage years, I have tried to be thoughtful when giving gifts and I truly do believe "it is the thought that counts." That is not to be taken as, any gift is a good gift, simply it seems better to use your noodle than to wrap up brass candlesticks because you think they are nice. Rather, a little thought goes a long way.

This was a hard lesson learned when I was a 14-year-old band geek who did not understand why my mom insisted on buying crates and crates of citrus fruit every year for our yearly uniform fundraiser. She would then divvy the fruit into baskets and deliver them to all the old people she knew. It was horribly time consuming and I hated every part of being her helper, from filling out the sales forms to tying cellophane around those damn baskets.

Finally, it became all I could take and upon the thought this tedious task was keeping me from my homework, I asked, "Why do you do this every year?! Why can't you just buy normal gifts like scented candles?! Fruit is stupid and this sucks."

My mother looked at me and sighed while shaking her head with the explanation, "The people we make these baskets for are on fixed incomes and can not afford to buy produce in the winter. I choose this as a gift in order to help them get vitamins in their diet."

I was silent. From then on I have tried to put a little more thought into the true meaning of the word "Gift".

DC, OH, WV, OH, DC, NL, DE, NL, DC -- wow!

The next few weeks will be a whirlwind for sure. The Chariot has been returned and this weekend The Mister and I are popping in to see the fams in Ohio and West Virginia. The Mister will fly back on Monday and I'll stick around for a little more quality time. It will be nice to see my Papaw now he is home after his heart attack. Papaw celebrated his 93rd birthday this past Friday and my well wishes are overdue!

After I return to DC, it will be time to pack up and zoom across the great blue ocean for my first solo-vacation. Although I will be staying with friends for most of the time, it is a big adventure as I have never done anything like this.

"Cultural Recuperation" might be a good way to look at it (thanks AD), and I am truly looking forward to time in museums, music halls, cafes and pubs. It's a bit scary but also exciting.

I will try to blog when I can and in the meantime, I send you my best wishes!

~Super

A fifth of Jack is another subject...

A woman in Brazil had a seventeen pound baby.

I went to the doctor this weekend for a lovely sinus infection. While there, I weighed in at a buck and a penny. 1-0-1, people.

The aforementioned baby (read: Goliath) is almost a FIFTH of me. Something like that would surely split a person my size in half.

Wow.

Patience, Young Jedi.

I miss Wino and Capitall, Drinky and Red.

I'll be heading towards the Dubbya Vee (gotta see my Papaw!) and then to Ohio in a couple of weeks after I finish up a job (which, by the by, may keep my blogging a bit sporadic). Hope of hopes I get to visit with them!

And it's strange... I keep having this feeling something good is coming towards Capitall... or that it already has. I had a dream about her a few weeks ago but can't bring myself to tell her of it for fear of jinxing. Well, I also don't want to end up in a padded room, either.

I'm off to work!

Irony!

Opera and I decided to delve into Georgetown yesterday for our weekly "Charter Members of the Glover Park Ladies Who Lunch Club" meeting. Since we were there, I thought it best to go ahead and renew my driver's license as it expires in a couple of weeks.

After getting my picture taken and visiting some very pretty handbags at the Banana Republic, we went to Clyde's for a cup of coffee.

On top of having a chariot crash, then having to get my license renewed, the bar staff at Clyde's was playing the entire album 'Crash' by the Dave Matthews Band. When I realized what I was hearing, coffee almost made it's way out my nose.

How's that for mockery on a Tuesday afternoon!? It's times like these you have to laugh. Of course, I laugh at just about everything, but sometimes, Life makes me snort, too.

Hope I die before I get old...!

An open letter to those who said I would hurt the worst on Day Three after my chariot crash.


Dear People Who Told Me So,

Fucking ouch. You were right.

Sincerely,

Super


If this is what it feels like to be old, I am going to hire a hit man for myself ASAP. I've always said "At the first sign of craziness, senility, menopause, or fat that just won't go away, I will be plunking down the cashola for a nice sweet killer to take me down swiftly". Sometime around 35, I'm guessing. However, the way 2007 is shaping up, I ought to be a little pile of ashes around October.