The Purse Dig

Hot dangit do I hate the inevitable purse dig.

Ladies, y'all know what I'm talkin' 'bout!

You have a handful of groceries and get to your front door only to have to set all the bags down to search for your keys. I hates it!

Or, you're getting your morning tea or coffee and decide to pay cash. Teller asks you for like, 3 extra cents, and there you are holding up the line for 3 freakin pennies...cos you know they are in there, somewhere.

I tried to alleviate the purse dig in large totes by employing the 'pouch system' where everything is neatly stored away in its own pouch.
1. money items: wallet, change, receipts
2. beauty items: tissues, lip gloss, eye drops, mirror, bobby pins
3. electronics: ipo (yeah, i got a new one; that's for another post), Blackberry

Seemed like a pretty solid plan that worked well when changing bags. Here's the issue: I found myself endlessly digging through pouches!

When will it end?

The Other M bought me this awesome cowhide, reversible shallow purse with accordian-style pockets. It was much easier to organize in a shallow handbag.

I was all excited to have everything in its right place, as the song says. Then when I was in shoe shop trying to pick out some new fall shoes and noticing how terribly fat I've gotten, the strap to cow purse broke!

I have to get a new strap. The bag is vintage and had a janky strap to start, but I'm sure my fat arm tugging on the thing all dang day didn't help matters.

Does anyone know a good leather worker?! I could bring it to Honduras, but...that's a long trip.

I Love That Song, Too!

When I lived in SF (which pains me to say, mind you), our neighbor would wake me up at roughly 9:30AM every Sunday with Madonna's Hung Up. Sometimes he'd let the whole Confessions on a Dancefloor album roll through but mostly it was Hung Up--on loop!

I can get down with that album. I owned it. I shook my sassafrass to Hung Up all the time--in 2006. Not sure what place that song and album had on a Sunday morning in 2007.

Anyway, those days are behind me and since the excitement of my return to New York is all but faded, I take comfort in the little things. Yesterday I woke up to our upstairs neighbor playing the new Radiohead album, In Rainbows. I quite love listening to any Radiohead album straight through. When I lived alone, I'd play a setlist from my itunes or seeqpod.com before I went to bed. Radiohead was often included in those mixes so it was a nice return to form on a weekend after a long, long week.

This morning neighbor pal played Enjoy the Silence by Depeche Mode, another of my favorite songs. After that he played Blur! I don't know you neighbor, but I love you.

Ps, Welcome to the new subscribers to Get Up On This!

Waitress

I just saw Waitress for the first time. You know, that movie with Keri Russell where she makes pies and gets degraded by her swine of a husband. It combined my two favorite things, yummy pies and bitter, sad stories.

At first I just put it on cos nothing was on Food Network, but was hooked by the first scene in which Jenna finds out she's preggers with aforementioned terrible husband.

The Other M was in the living room watching football. I came out of our room to give him an update on my wonderful premium cable find and he said, 'Wasn't that the one with the actress who got killed after making it?'

WHAAA?, I said. NO WAY.

Sadly, turns out he was partly right. The writer/director, Adrienne Shelly, was murdered by her illegal construction worker Ecuadorian neighbor. She caught him stealing from her home.

This brings conflicting issues for me.
1. Talented women getting murdered by desperate men.
2. The plight of illegal immigrants.

True, I don't feel much sympathy for anyone who chooses murder above any other problem solving method, but I wonder what her killer's life was like before he came to the USA, and even after.

What a terrible tragedy. Watching the film, you get the sense immediately that this writer has empathy for anyone dealing with the absolute shit life deals you. Oh, the terrible irony.

If you are so inclined, check out the movie. It's a terrific piece.

Family and friend have set up a foundation on her behalf, ASF (Adrienne Shelly Foundation.) It benefits female filmmakers and their endeavors.

Just Cos Steven Tyler Is Away at Rehab

Doesn't mean Fergie Fergalicious can traipse around filling the void pretending to be him. SICK.

No Creo En El Jamas

Cuando la vida me da golpes
Y me manda para el suelo
Es cuando yo mas siento
Que tengo que levantarme
Que dar la cara al miedo
Es una forma de vencerlo

No voy a darme por vencido
No voy a darle mi vida al miedo
El miedo es un asesino
Que mata a los sentimientos
Se que no estoy solo
Yo se que Dios esta aqui adentro

Y necesito silencio para poder encontrar...
Mi propia voz y mi verdad
Y al final de la oscuridad

(Chorus)
No me siento solo
Se que estas conmigo
Hoy voy a levantarme y no voy
A resignar mi corazon
Hacer lo que quise y no pude
No lo voy aceptar
Hoy voy a buscar estar mejor
La vida tiene solucion
Aqui no hay nada imposible
No creo en el jamas
No..
No creo en el jamas
Noooo...

Si darte por vencido es una forma de morir
Entonces yo jamas voy a darle gusto a la muerte
Pienso en mi familia
Y el corazon late mas fuerte
Que no se puede vivir pensando cuando se va morir
Y dicen soñar es tanto como morir estando vivo
Yo creo en el presente
Y eso me aleja de la muerte

Y necesito silencio para poder encontrar...
Mi propia voz y mi verdad
Y al final de la oscuridad

(Chorus)
No me siento solo
Se que estas conmigo
Hoy voy a levantarme y no voy
A resignar mi corazon
Hacer lo que quise y no pude
No lo voy aceptar
Hoy voy a buscar estar mejor
La vida tiene solucion
Aqui no hay nada imposible
No creo en el jamas
No creo en el jamas

-Juanes

One Art
by Elizabeth Bishop
The art of losing isn't hard to master; so many things seem filled with the intent to be lost that their loss is no disaster. Lose something every day. Accept the fluster of lost door keys, the hour badly spent. The art of losing isn't hard to master. Then practice losing farther, losing faster: places, and names, and where it was you meant to travel. None of these will bring disaster. I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or next-to-last, of three loved houses went. The art of losing isn't hard to master. I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster, some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent. I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster. --Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident the art of losing's not too hard to master though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

Back by Popular Demand!

Ok, to be fair, it's just the one subscriber asking what's up with the cute factor of my blog. I can bore you with the usual answer: I live in New York now.

BUT...I'll just serve what the customers ask!

Meet 'Cute lil Otterkins'!

That lil furry head, those cute lil fingers, those floppy cheeks, and teeny eyes. In love? I am. I want him in my purse so I can pet him while I'm on the train or walking home from work. We'd be best buds.