I've Discovered Victoria's Secret...

There are actually three choice secrets involved:

1. Getting bitch slapped and feeling very confused afterward, pulling your tasselled hair...or
2. Eating Chinese or Mexican food until you're just on the verge of vomiting...or
3. Watching The Exorcist a bunch of times until you know how to look, act and feel possessed.

....and then you get your picture taken!

These head shots were clipped straight from the models of Victoria's Secret. I've always found the facial expressions hilarious.

I think I'm going to try this the next time I get a professional photo taken of the family or for work. What do you think?

The Big Spill

I'll say it loud and proud. I am the biggest klutz in the Universe. And last night while attempting to walk with the dog in the dark, I took a nice, big spill.

It was the kind of event that groups of loitering kids dream of in terms of comedy. If anyone had been around to see it, I'm sure the fall would have garnered some quiet laughter from those who wondered if I was still capable of moving and some wild and roaring laughter from those who didn't care.

Resting on my left leg is a bruise the size of Alaska starting to peek through and a large cherry shaped and bloody scrape that my knee hasn't seen since the days of learning to ride a bike. I find it pretty ironic indeed that this was one of many evening walks and the first time I heeded family warnings and took a flashlight with me. (Admittedly, it wasn't on.)

But I'm sticking with the facts. Take a flashlight: fall down in a violent twist of uncoordination. Don't bring a flashlight: you make the trek with no problemos. I wouldn't dare blame this on the fact that I am incapable of walking even one step on a balance beam.

Did I miss something about the need to equip a 12 year old with a cell phone?

It's strange, I know, but I actually survived adolescence without a cellular phone.

It totally freaked me out this weekend when my son's best friend from ACROSS THE STREET used his cell phone to dial home (when he was literally 30 feet from the driveway) to ask mom if he could come on a walk with us.

Not surprisingly, the answer was no.

Cheers! ...To Your Extra 10 Pounds!

I'd like to officially nominate the Starbucks Peppermint Mocha as the Drink of the Year for the 2008 Holiday Season. Except for the fact that it costs nearly $5 and involves a little matter of 400 calories, it's right there at the top of my list. As you might imagine from it's clever name, it has the peppermint, the mocha, and of course the whipped creme. At the end of your cup, you'll most likely find a depository of very dense but heavenly syrup. It's this discovery that makes you realize just how bad you've been to drink it.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not a big calorie counter. But when it recently dawned on me that you also have to worry about what you drink in terms of getting fat, I wasn't pleased.

Eggnog was knocked off my list of faves this year when I read that half a cup was worth 180 calories. It will only take 3 miles of walking at a enormously fast pace to walk off that tiny sample. My walks are supposed to be taking off the devilishly delicious blocks of cheese the parents sent to us....and the Peppermint Mochas. No room for eggnog.

I'm thinking that although I have truly enjoyed my Peppermint Mocha fixes this year, I won't surprise myself if water is the Drink of the Year for 2009.

One Eyed Billy

If you're looking for something different to do outdoors, stop on by Myakka Stables just west of the Myakka State Park entrance on Clark Road. For $30, you will enjoy a relaxing horseback trek through sandy oak hammocks dappled with saw palmettos, zipping dragonflies and birdy chatter. Be sure to ask for One Eyed Billy.

Today I took the young man and my sister-in-law out for this favorite shared activity. (We left husband at home, who experienced a life-altering "almost" moment on a horse this summer in the mountains.) We feasted on the venture of our 1 hour trip all by ourselves--that's right people, there's no trail guide along for this one.

I was aboard Nugget, a no-nonsense sort of horse who had one mission in life: getting back to the stables. My sis-in-law was on a horse who often stood still and refused to move. And son D-Man was the rider of Billy, a one-eyed horse who still had quite a bit of "feisty" left in him, despite his old age. Although each of our equine carriers had very different paces and were stubborn as hell in terms of syncing with each other, we had a great trip. It's all part of the adventure.

If you can get past the sketchy appearance of the welcoming barn (with a fan that's melted downward like a dying flower and a ripped couch that looks like it's been recovered from a nuclear war), you're more than half way to a great mini-voyage into Florida nature.

Billy has probably seen a lot in his day, although he's not seeing anything out of that right socket anymore. Visit him and ask him to take you for the walk you've always dreamed of. He's waiting for you at the stables.

Here's the Story: It's a Time for Thinking

Earth looks amazingly cool from space.

On this Christmas Eve, content to have worked half the day and to be listening to the Swiffer spewing floor cleaner and the dryer squeaking as it warms the sheets, I feel good about life and am glad to be home. And oh so thankful to have what I have.

There's always been a feeling of happiness and contentment on this holiday, one of the few times of the year when I allow myself to forget about work and obligations. Usually, there's also a twinge of guilt about all of the abundance in my life when so many people around the world are lacking in basic necessities. This year that feeling is much different. These aren't just "people around the world," they're people right here.

It's a time for thinking. Re-evaluating what's important and making sure I'm contributing enough things that matter to the larger, fragile spectrum of life--life right here.

Isn't it easy to get caught up in frivolous details that mean nothing in the grand scheme of life? Makes us forget to live with the basic mission of making things better for anyone we can. Sometimes you have to step back a little and see things from a distance to realize you're off the mark and need to come back to the source.

Merry Christmas. Give yourself the gift of committing to one new thing that will make the world a little nicer. I'm going to start volunteering at the Food Bank & bringing the tween along to see how good a little service is for the soul.

The Snuggie: It Can Be Yours for Only $14.95

Since my last Gropius post, I took a short trip to Miami (with stories that could fill a thousand blogs), have been trying to get my act together for the big day on Thursday and have been racing to finish work obligations.

I've been meaning to share the story of the Mariachi singers who were relieving themselves at a common rest stop off of I-75...and a hilarious picture of a Charlie Brown poinsetta in my office that has been reduced to two leaves and three sticks due to water neglect.


But I couldn't delay in sharing the Ultimate Gift for Lazy People: The Snuggie. Ever want to curl up in front of the idiot box on a cool night but those bothersome blankets don't stay in place and prevent your arms from moving about freely? Ever want to dress up like Obi-Wan in the comfort of your own home? Be a monk-with-the-most for your immediate family?

Folks, if you answered "yes" to any of these questions, I do believe The Snuggie is for you. Don't take my word for it, check out this hysterical commercial. I'm begging husband for it and hoping the makers of The Snuggie will come up with a cool pack version to wrap myself up in on those sweltering nights that fill most of our calendar days here in sunny Florida. If there's a gift left to shop for on your list, I highly recommend a home made gift card indicating your pledge to purchase The Snuggie.

The Dream

Today while driving down Fruitville, I looked over to the sidewalk and saw a woman who appeared to be limping and then walking almost in slow motion. As I took more time to stare, I noticed that she had regained a normal pattern of movement and seemed to be walking just fine. It jolted me to thoughts of a recurring dream that I've been having for years--one which rarely surfaces in the waking hours.

I'm usually walking down the street, or find myself in some sort of situation where reaching a destination is important. I start out just fine but then become quite unable to move one or both of my legs forward without incredible effort. Even then, it's very difficult and I find myself paralyzed in place. The dream residue afterward is always that something degenerative has happened to me physically to cause this paralyzing effect--it's not some external force.

So what in the big green world is going on? Am I feeling stuck or trapped in life? Or is this foreshadowing some grave immobilizing illness? Give me your interpretations and tell me about your recurring dreams. Preferably, I'd love to hear something a heck of a lot funnier than this.

Am I the Only One Who Remembers Slim Goodbody?

It was a chain reaction. We were trying to fall asleep the other night while the dog was going crazy, galloping back and forth across the room with a plush toy. She jumped up on the bed and landed on husband, pulling his arm hair. And suddenly, it all started coming back to me. A song on my long, lost Slim Goodbody album: "...Your hair grows out of follicles, the hair grows on your head!"

Does anyone remember this white, semi-afroed guy who dressed up in a tight "we bare all" suit showing organs, bones and more? In the early '80's, Slim Goodbody taught young 'uns about the parts of the body and created an entire ensemble of songs, "The Inside Story," that became a prized possession for me.

Strangely, the only vestige of memory today is one meager line from the "hair song" I recited above. I found the album cover (which displays a picture of Slim, for those of you who pretend not to remember him) in Google images. I'm hoping it will trick my subconscious into recalling lyrics from the other songs...

So here's what I want to know. Am I the only one who remembers Slim Goodbody?

The Bradentucky Version of Cheers

Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name. If you live in Bradentucky and you're over 70, that place is Bradenton Donuts.

Go there any day of the week, pull up to a swivel chair at the counter, order a coffee and any one of the multitude of donut varieties. You'll be treated like a regular at Cheers. After one trip, everyone will know your name. And your "usual" order. The nice folks who own the place and make the donuts are cheery, attentive and must have photographic memories.

I will warn you that if you're a baby boomer or younger, you'll be anything but usual in there. (It would be nice to get more younger folks coming. We stuck out like sore thumbs.)

It's also the one place I've ever seen where you can actually order a bowl of Raman noodles. (BONUS!) Next time you're in Bradentucky, check this local joint out. It's been in town forever.
Don't forget a pre-trip to the ATM; "cash only" still rules at Bradenton Donuts.

Scary Stamps for the Holidays

Maybe it's just me, but I've always found nutcrakers a little...unappealing...shall we say. We took our annual Christmas post office treck this morning to purchase stamps for holiday mass mailing. And let me tell you, this year's collection was a little frightening.

I brought the young man along to pick out his fave stamps, and we ended up bringing home the scariest nutcrackers I've ever seen. They look like Bavarian killers, bearing some serious teeth, enabled to take some names and rip off your limbs. Just look at them. Do they give you that warm, compassionate "home for the holidays" feeling? I think not.

A fair compromise was buying only one set of nutcrackers and going with the sweet Mother & Child and Celebration holiday stamps for the other sets. I saved the nutcrackers for my husband's side of the family.

Getting A Little TOO Creative

It's always extra special to receive a gift that someone put their heart, soul and sweat into. Especially if it's also very creative. Here's an idea that was floating around our office today. Let's see if you can guess what these beautiful, super crafty slippers are made from.

Anyone who guesses correctly wins a pair! You get to make them.

Celebrating the Writing Goddess

It looked like something was on fire as the sun was trying to get up this morning. Clouds were racing across the sky, wind blowing all around, signaling a change coming. Child pulled me out the door to have a look at a fleeting double rainbow making a brief appearance in the light orange north. There must be something special about this day.

I know! It's December 11, the day the Sarasota Writing Goddess was born. This local writer's byline can be seen in Style each month. She can make anyone come alive in print, touching on the most subtle and deeply interesting parts of their being in a way that makes you want to read and read and read. You'll always enjoy a thoughtful perspective, meshed with unexpected metaphors and clever comparisons, when you barge in her office for a chat. And she's a great friend. Happy Birthday, Ruth Lando.

Pungent Products 3

Here's another pungent product to look out for: Evergreen scented oil for room fragrance.

We made a choice a few years ago to stop feeding the chopping-of-innocent-Christmas-trees industry and go with a fake Frasier fir (which is probably much more environmentally destructive in retrospect...can't imagine the petroleum that went into that baby).

Anyway, we do miss the smell of a fresh piney scent in the house around the holidays. So I picked up Evergreen scented oil for the oil burner. I'm not sure if it's the fact that I spilled nearly half of the bottle it or if it's the fakeness of the smell itself. But all family members, including the dog, are about to puke.

The Bad Me

I never intended for Gropius to be a confession board, and in general, I'm a pretty nice and thoughtful person--not a whole lot to confess. But today, I was bad. Really bad. Bad in a way that makes me embarrassed, and somehow I feel that if I share it with you and you also think I'm bad, maybe I'll get what I deserve...other people thinking I'm bad. How do you like that, psychologist and coach readers? You could write me up as a case study.

So I finally finished this certification program today I've been working on for almost 2 years. Not a huge deal, but it involved a pretty decent time commitment and some driving. After being in class all day on a Saturday and driving back the long way (by mistake), I was tired but excited--sooo excited--to be done.

I pulled up in the driveway to see a big, fat home improvement husband had undertaken with the thought of pleasing me. But I hated it. It was one of those perfect communications about something that needed to be done. In the discussion stage, we each knew the other understood exactly what we meant by the word "trellis," only we didn't.

(As in I totally didn't mean that I envisioned two gigantic unpainted wooden structures drilled to the front of the house.)

So I freaked out and was really mean about it. I apologized a bunch but it still didn't take out the meanness of my initial really bad reaction. Have you ever done something like this? How did you redeem yourself?

Feel free to tell me what an ass I am in the comment section. I deserve it.

Why, yes, I do think you're a raving lunatic.

Have you ever had someone call your house after they haven't been in the picture for 2 1/2 years, demanding to speak with a certain family member?

And call back 8 times within a 30 minute period?

And leave all sorts of messages about how much they've changed and how normal they are?

Unfortunately I can answer these questions in the affirmative. My two thoughts for this person:

1. Why yes, I do think you're a raving lunatic.
2. Your behavior is certainly not doing anything to convince me otherwise.

A Solemn Occasion at Joey D's

One of the best Bradentucky places to wind down with the fam after a long day is Joey D's, a locally-owned pizza joint right on U.S. 41 just north of Cortez. Great waitstaff, veggie and carnivorous food choices and always good 'ole, regular working folks in your company.

Tonight we ordered the worst artery-clogging offenders and played a few rounds of "A Solemn Occasion." Ever play this game? It's a family heirloom, passed down through generations on my father's side. We'll just use Gropius and Eddie to explain how you do it:

Gropius stares at Eddie and says in the most serious, monotone manner possible, "It's a solemn occasion, brother Eddie. It's a solemn occasion." And Eddie--staring back with utmost solemn intensity--gravely replies, "Yes it is, brother Gropius. Yes it is."

The two players must say the words very solemnly, extremely slowly, and utterly deliberately. The losing player is the one who cannot help but crack even a slight smile. I've found that it's much easier to play the Gropius part. The Eddie player almost always loses.

So, we challenge you to a game! It's perfect for play-fighting with co-workers, the opening exchange during a performance appraisal, or procrastinating on daily mundane tasks that really count. You just need a partner willing to go there. (Good luck.) We would start to worry about you if you tried it with a mirror.