Panties & Planets?

Well...somebody finally did it!

Ladies and genitalia, there is now an underwear manufacturer named URANUS.

Some possible billboards that instantly come to mind...

URANUS: we know how to cover your ass

URANUS on sale now

URANUS: when your ass is out of this world

URANUS: sometimes you need URANUS

I suppose it was inevitable.

We have Mars candy company. Venus razors. Saturn automobiles (but they went all black hole on us), Mercury as in Ford, Lincoln Mercury...like Mercury was a president too.

It would have been more fun if URANUS was a hat company. I've always wondered what the hell an ASSHAT was so that would make sense to me.

Drought Water Damage

Down here in South Texas, we are in the midst of a devastating drought. The lakes are down tremendously, in some cases, lower than the entire recorded history. Wild fires have been burning somewhere in my state for more than 200 consecutive days and we have a flood in our lake house.

The pest control serviceman called yesterday to report water flowing from the back door as he prepared to enter. It appears there was a catastrophic water line burst inside the wall in the center of the house. The worst thing about that (so far) is that since is began in the center, the entire house is has at least an inch of water standing in it. Great.

My husband and I can't seem to get the inspiration to actually drive the two hours to see it just yet. It's depressing. We have the insurance people, the master plumber, the water extraction people and a neighbor on it. I don't want to see it. I don't want to see my favorite rug all nasty and soaked. I will cry if I have to see the two gorgeous chairs I just had redone in the cutest tropical fabric.

The Blackmon Mooring guy seems to think the whole house will have to be gutted.

Don't get me wrong, we were contemplating a remodel, but this isn't what we had in mind.

Sigh. At least the parched grass around the house got watered...

I'm under AIRROSTI

AIRROSTI...I totally thought it was the guy's name or something. It's actually an acronym for Applied Integration for the Rapid Recovery Of Soft Tissue Injuries. And it hurts. A doctor of chiropractic actually administers the treatment. The table looks like a typical chiropractic one but I believe there are fewer than 100 DCs certified through this approach and did I mention it hurts?

The Rolling Stones, "Under My Thumb" should be this guy's theme song.

Basically, since I don't speak physiology or anatomy, he jabs his thumb hard down into specific points along the back (& hip in my case), holds it for a few seconds, jabs it deeper, then in some areas, he drags it like a drudging machine. Bruising is common. Swelling is too. Ice is recommended. It's all about the facia. It's also about the slow sustaining pain. It hurts so much it makes the pain I'm there complaining about not seem so bad.

It hurt...but I felt something good within minutes of standing up. I'm very skeptical having tried almost everything from a rheumatologist to an acupuncturist, but I'm thrilled to be (dare I say) cautiously optimistic.

I go back Wednesday and Friday. Supposedly they have a hugely high percentage of patients who are basically cured after three visits. I seriously hope that's me.

My lower back and right hip hurt ALL THE TIME. I'm NEVER pain free. NEVER. I am awakened every night multiple times by my hip pain mostly. I can't figure out what the heck is wrong with me. My back is exceedingly stiff after sitting for just a few minutes. So stiff, that I can't even stand up straight when I first stand...like I walk bent over for a few minutes. It's so frustrating and embarrassing, especially when I'm dressed really cute otherwise and we're at a really nice restaurant or event. It's just not graceful or sexy to walk hunched over in platform Gucci sandals and a skinnyish Missoni dress.

Side bar: I swear I opted for my recent hysterectomy as soon my Ob/Gyn passingly mentioned that in some very rare cases back pain can be eliminated. I said, "sign me up immediately." Honest to God, I secretly hoped removing my uterus and my ovaries would somehow cure my pain. Cue that word again: CRAZY. That's not to say I didn't have other reasons to opt for the hyster, but the REAL reason I wanted to go for it was that unlikely off-chance for a pain cure.

So...now I have hot flashes to go with my back/hip pain. Aww man. I don't know, but I swear if there was some treatment proven effective which required me to sleep in a canoe filled with Jello, I would do it.

If this thing miraculously works for me, I will seriously shout it from my roof top...nah, I might fall. I'll shout "YIPPIE" though, just as loud as I can. Acronym: Yelling In Pure Pain-free Incidental to Euphoria

Hood Love

I LOVE OUR BACK PORCH, OUR HOME & OUR NEIGHBORHOOD. It's been so hot all Summer long, heck, since May really and I forgot how much I enjoy getting up early and spending time out here. I'm sitting across from our two rocking chairs on my very favorite 1950's metal glider. It's rusted, it's that era-specific mint green and I'm so proud of my Mexican oil cloth custom-made and oh so comfy cushion. I love where we live.

Our neighborhood is like a Norman Rockwell painting. Today especially, on this 10 year anniversary of the terrible attack on the very essence of America, I am particularly reflective and pensive about my safe and quintessentially American neighborhood-the kind the "greatest generation" fought to preserve.

Here, kids still ride their bikes down the streets and our door bell in rung multiple times on a Saturday by neighbor kids asking if our children "can come out and play." For real. I know our neighborhood post mistress by name. All the mail here is delivered the old fashioned way- through the door or in the tiny boxes on our front porches. When I broke my leg, our post mistress even came all the way into my bedroom to give me the mail and wish me well. There is an American flag flying off at least a couple of porches in every single block. Our police officers stop and play basketball in the street with our son and his pal and show off their sirens and radios for the kids. We have parades on the fourth of July and the homecoming football game is a really big deal and keep in mind, we are in the center of a huge city.

Big city, small town.

In the mornings like today, I can hear and occasionally see the tops of people's heads who are running, walking or cycling by for their daily dose of exercise. I should take a cue, honestly...but that's another blog.

I also love that the kids here walk or ride their bikes to and from the 100 year old school just three blocks from here. I love these old houses too, they are each so distinctive and unique, not like the newer neighborhoods where every single house has the exact same exterior lights and if you look closely enough, one of only four front doors which repeat in a certain pattern. Those homogenous neighborhoods are fine, but there's just something so Americana about the old homes from the 1920's and 30's.

Friday evening as I drove through our "hood," I counted five neighbors out in their front yards hand-watering. We are in the midst of a terrible drought here in Texas, so aside from the one day a week we are allowed to use sprinklers, we are allowed to "hand water" anytime. What I noticed about my neighbors who were taking full advantage of the evening cool down and their opportunity to quench their scorched grass was that they were ALL holding their garden hose in one hand and their glass of wine in the other. How seriously cool is that. I live in a neighborhood where it is the norm to sip wine and water your grass at the same time. In the distance I had to drive, I counted five neighbors in their Friday "wine-down water time" and it made me smile.

Was Norman Rockwell a wine drinker?

Just Keep Playing

Dear Stunningly Under-rated Singer/Songwriter,

Your music inspires me. I want to thank you for being born and tell you a little bit about your perfect fan—me. I don’t need my name on the guest list because I think it’s important to purchase my ticket. I will always buy a t-shirt and the CD at the merch table even though I’ve already downloaded the albums. I always carry a Sharpie with me so you don’t have to. I will always patiently wait in line for an autograph, but I won’t chat you up unnecessarily or hold the line. I always work my way up to the stage during the show if I’m not already planted there before-hand and if others at the stage insist on continuing their pre-show conversations like you’re not even there, I am the one who shushes them or stares them down until they listen or leave. I never want you to feel like back-ground music and wish EVERY venue could be a true listening venue. I don’t need to be friends with you or hang out with you after the show. I don’t automatically think you remember me because I’ve seen your show multiple times and to be polite I always reintroduce myself. I truly want to hear your new stuff even though I don’t know all the words yet. I want you to see and feel everybody singing along to your songs that aren’t new and I truly hope you sop those moments up like a biscuit in gravy. I believe in the notion that your song has more inherent value when it’s sung YOU because YOU wrote it and that is why I follow content over crowds. I believe in bare bones lyrics over flash and production. I’ll take Sean McConnell over Tim McGraw any day and Radney Foster over Keith Urban all day long. I would happily shave five years off my life to have seen Bruce Springsteen at The Armadillo or Townes Van Zandt at The Cactus. I have gone to a show where you were the opening act BECAUSE you were the opening act. I believe you are profoundly talented, that you have something real to say and that more people should know about you. Your music inspires me, it sets me free and without it would shrivel like a blade of grass in the August Texas sun. I need for you to know that I wish you success as YOU define it and rest assured that I am truly proud to be a fan.

Sincerely,

Your fan, Tara