Saturday, October 16, 2010

Beach Baby, Beach Baby, Give Me a Chance

Beware, river walkers. This Odonata Anisoptera has been cited hovering in the area. Known to pick up unleashed dogs, unsuspecting cell phone users and even a dude with his jeans down around his knees and his Joe Boxer underwear showing, but no one was upset about that.

I wish I were the family pet and could leap out of bed in the morning and go directly to the task at hand. But like the rest of the civilized race I must attend to that morning ritual of personal hygiene and it just takes too long. There's the shower, the pill-taking, toilet time, the tooth brushing, the hair thing, the spraying and rubbing of ointments and creams, and all that clothing to choose and shoes and which pieces of metal to adorn my body. It doesn't help that I have 27 shampoos, conditioners, and shower gels on three piers in my tub. I can't pass up smelly stuff. I have streamlined the process a bit with an extremely short hair style and the avoidance of cosmetics. If it's a choice between the toothbrush and breakfast I go to work smelling minty-mouthed and not with teeth studded with shredded wheat.

You know what I love about a farmer's market? Everybody is in a great mood. People put bandannas around their dogs' necks for all the wrong reasons, the smell of veggie burritos is in the air, and the farm people are just so gosh darn glad to be out of those smelly barns and here in the sunlight with the city folk. And it proves that just because the fingernails are dirty doesn't mean a nasty person resides.

$7.50 is too high for a jar of gingered pear preserves whatever that is, but you do get that little straw thing around the lid. Her prices are up there but as every good chef know, appearance is everything. Potatoes and other root vegetables are everywhere, peppers for my brother's chili, the last batches of greens and spinach and some anemic-looking tomatoes. Dave and I eat a breakfast of animal fat and processed flour at the local greasy spoon (fork and knife) and then proceed to try and walk off the toxins.

The Mississippi has carved a deep ravine in its wake and the hills of Illinois are directly across from us.
Barges are frequent this time of year with coal and corn, staples for the frigid days ahead.

Window shopping: a demonic metallic monster glares out at me menacingly.

Under heavy eyebrows he will be sweeping snow from some one's driveway all too soon.

I would so wear this dress. And those circles are actually plastic baubles attached to the material at their tops. Think of how this would look when in motion, twirling and dancing. I would probably not buy this dress as I feel safe in my Catholic student wardrobe, lots of blue and white, brown and grey. Why attract unwanted attention, which all attention is unless I have fallen down a staircase or off a bar stool - both of which I have done and was glad for the helping hand. Also, I would not twirl while dancing. Again, a balance issue. All day long I have had a Beach Boys song rattling around in my head, "Beach baby, beach baby give me a chance. . ." Tomorrow's gotta be better.


MrDaveyGie said...

Creepy baby sees what you do.

dawn marie giegerich said...

Creepy Baby drinks Jose Cuervo all day.