Thinking Cool Thoughts

Generally, I make it a policy to not bitch about the heat. I really hate when people do that -- it's so boring to hear people whine about the heat. Deal with it, already!

If necessary, I whip out the true story of how Dr. J and I lived in the Silicon Valley/Bay Area during the rolling blackouts. It was during the blazing heat of summer (about 110 degrees, even at 7 p.m.), we were living in the world's tiniest apartment (think 500 sq. ft.), with NO air conditioning. And because we lived in a high-crime, non-English speaking neighborhood, we couldn't open our door to get much breeze in (and we had to lock up the place tight during the day).

We would do anything to not be in the apartment -- go to the mall, the movies, sit in our car with the A/C on high, yadda, yadda. But we had to sleep, and couldn't afford a hotel. So we went to sleep at night with bags of frozen vegetables under our heads. Up until that time, I think it was the closest Dr. J had ever been to a vegetable (he's since evolved, slightly).

So when I came home today to my cute, and more spacious apartment, on a fairly balmy day, I headed into the bedroom and turned on the A/C window unit full blast.

There's nothing like peeling off your clothes in the privacy of your own home as some well-deserved icy cool air blowing from the A/C unit envelops your body.

Except maybe if you have a fudgesicle in hand when you do it.

Faux Date

I have been watching a lot of "Sex and the City" episodes lately. [Hey, it's summer, and outside of watching the reality shows, and the new season of "Rescue Me," the pickings are slim].

The tone of the show sometimes gets a girl thinking in that Carrie Bradshaw-esque way, pondering some of Life's questions and amusements. Recently, I broached with my girlfriends the topic of whether a "Faux Date" is either an extension of the "Office Spouse" concept, or a modernized version of PlatonicVille.

And just what definition is being assigned to my self-coined phrase, Faux Date? As best I can determine, it's meeting with someone of the opposite sex for lunch, dinner, drinks, concert, whatever, in which you get all gussied up to look your best in anticipation of the Faux Date. For a woman, she may put on a special outfit, put extra effort into her hair and makeup, and feel nervous and giggly and excited. For a man, the Faux Date prep may include spending more than 30 seconds styling their hair, putting together a shirt and pants that match, wearing their best (and clean) underwear, and possibly some manscaping.

But they still get to pay for the meal (it is a date, after all).

Why Can't I Control the Weather?

Some days I wish I could get the weather in snyc with my mood. If I could, yesterday would have started out as partly sunny, with the clouds disappearing during the giggly, gossipy, late lunch I had with two of my dear girlfriends.

But then on my bus ride home . . . alone with my thoughts, and knowing I had two difficult and sad things to do later on in the evening, the drizzle would have begun during the early afternoon hours. And then developed into moderate rain showers, which have carried over into today.

Yep, today is a tough, rainy, sad day.

Oprah is NOT Gay

Thanks for the 411, sistah.

So let me check my scorecard . . . she is NOT gay, she IS a Zulu, sucks up to Maya Angelou, and name-drops almost as much as Barbara Walters (Baba Wawa).

And let's not forget that "Remember Your Spirit" schtick she was doing a few years back. Yeah, I'll get right on my At-Home Retreat, thanks.

But she is NOT gay.

Is everyone clear?

Friendship

A bad friend drills holes in the side of the Titanic.


A good friend steers the lifeboat right up next to it, tosses you a couple of lifejackets, and yells above the fear and panic to let you know that they have a saved you a seat on the lifeboat.

It's never too late to swim.

On a break

I've been on a break.

It sucked.

It still does.

My thanks to my posse . . .

* Hamster -- for working it out with me the way I needed to . . . via e-mail

* Lori -- for never questioning when I needed to obsess, or change the subject

* Shannon -- for following directions

* Adrian the Barbie Doll -- for giving your shoulder (and Man Hands) in that special CA Valley Girl way of talking

* Hot Mary -- for crying with me

* Jen -- for knowing that being catty will be a helpful way to cope in the months to come

* Sandi -- for saying the One Thing that has given me peace. And hope.



And always, Dr. J . . . for being my soft landing. As good as my words are, they don't measure up to how tall you stand when I need you. As you often remind me, "In our own, weird way . . . we always do things in our own, weird way."