Tuesday, November 9, 2010

Decorating Tips

That lady is a doll who lives on my porch. Isn't she pretty? Why do we like dolls so much? I watched The Eyes of Tammy Faye last night and that woman sure loved the dolls. I have never in my life seen or heard of any soul who was as cheerful and positive in outlook and yet, who cried as much as Tammy Faye. It was almost like a medical condition-that crying of hers.

Anyway, good morning. And aren't you glad I didn't post a picture of Tammy Faye?
Bless her heart.

I am determined to feel better today. I have to. Owen is coming for a few hours. I got up and took a shower. I've only been taking baths since about last Saturday. Here's the difference between and a bath and a shower- you have to stand up in the shower.
I washed my hair. It needed it.
I stood up and washed my hair. And my body. It was a good and fine thing to do.

I got a call at ten-thirty-six last night. It was an alarm company and my mother's front door alarm had gone off. Did I know the password?
Hell no.
What password? There's a password?
So they were going to call the police. Okay.
I call my mother- she's there, she's fine. She'd gotten in from seeing a play and had had an alarm glitch. She told me the password.
I called the company back and gave it to them. They'd already called the police but could probably call them back and cancel. Okay. I called my mother back. She calmed down. I calmed down. The police didn't come.
I went back to reading Raymond Chandler.

Have you ever read any Raymond Chandler? I have to admit that I have not. Oh, maybe a short story. He was one of those Great American Alcoholic Authors like Fitzgerald and Hemingway. He really did write passages like this:

"The air was thick, wet, steamy and larded with the cloying smell of tropical orchids in bloom. The glass walls and roof were heavily misted and big drops of moisture splashed down on the plants. The light had an unreal greenish color, like light filtered through an an aquarium tank. The plants filled the place, a forest of them, with nasty meaty leaves and stalks like the newly washed fingers of dead men. They smelled as overpowering as boiling alcohol under a blanket."

Seriously? Newly washed fingers of dead men?
I'm in love!
My friend K sent me a volume of three of Chandler's Marlowe novels a while back and I have finally cracked it open. I can't wait to get to the middle of this particular river. I am going to enjoy the swim, I tell you that.

I finished that short story last night. I sat down and did it. It isn't very good but I did it. And what do I do with it now? Nothing. I am no Raymond Chandler and no Tammy Faye, either. Tammy Faye never gave up. Nothing could kill her until she died. She survived Jim Baker, Jessica Hahn, Jerry Falwell, cancer, and being the butt of every joke in the world. And she just kept on going, gluing those eyelashes on one at a time and wearing tattooed lip-liner, believing in the Lord and not hating anyone. She pitched a show to a TV executive and wanted to call it Tammy's Terrific Teens. She wanted to go with teens to the tattoo parlors and piercing parlors to see what they really thought. She also pitched, at the same time, a puppet show for children. AND a show about medicine.
The TV exec passed on all three. Too bad. I think Tammy's Terrific Teens would have been awesome. That woman was not afraid. She wasn't afraid of AIDS or gay people. She loved gay people. She loved puppets too. And mascara. Lord, how she loved mascara.

Well, I think you've heard enough from me at this point.
It's another freaking beautiful day. Kathleen might be in surgery as I write this, getting a lymph node removed from her armpit. I should be there but I'm not so I guess that means I should be right where I am.
I don't know about that stuff. "If it's meant to be, it will happen." Yeah. Maybe.
I don't think anything is meant to be. I think shit just happens. And then other shit happens.

Take a shower. Wash your hair. Hang dolls on the porch. Or don't.
Don't give up. Don't be afraid to cry. Love the Lord or love the chicken. Read Raymond Chandler and never think about orchid leaves in the same way.

Get on with your bad self.

I love you to pieces...Ms. Moon


  1. Don't let that Owen wear you down too far! You can always read stories in bed...

    Must send you photos of our severed finger Halloween cupcakes!

    Best wishes to Kathleen. That was a fast move, wasn't it?

  2. Let's hope for good shit happening for all of us!

    Have you always been enamored with Tammy Faye? I find this odd and amusing. Just curious.

  3. Jo- I can't keep that boy still for one minute. Believe me. Yes! Pictures!

    Ms. Fleur- I'm not enamored of Tammy Faye. I just say this documentary last night and I realized she was far more complex than I had ever thought.

  4. Thanks for that pep talk in the end. I needed it and it made me smile, esp the "bad self" part and the love you to pieces was the extra sugar I needed to feel like I'm capable of even getting up off this chair and starting the day.

    I'm glad you're feeling better and got your shower and that Owen is coming. I loved all the Tammy Faye layers, but yes, I'm glad you didn't share a photo.
    Though I'm not a fan of dolls at all. They scare me. My mother makes them for a living. Really creepy ones that look like real babies.

    Enjoy your day dear MM. Thanks for helping me start mine right. Tea and Bless our Hearts, perfect.

  5. A shower is a mighty fine thing. I indulged myself as well this morning.

    Tammy Faye was a piece of work. How she managed to hold her head up with all the mascara AND people making fun of her - and put herself right in the way of it all with a smile on her face is beyond me. Guess she didn't take herself too seriously. Must be some kind of gift.

    I haven't read Chandler. I think I have to learn to read again. Until you pointed it out, I hadn't even considered how strange that phrase was. I read way too fast I think - get the gist without the gravy. I think I'm missing the best part.

  6. This is a great post, my love. Thank you.

    I saw that documentary on Tammy Faye. I think she was one of the few true Christians I ever almost knew. Bono, too.

    I also think that despite her cheerful disposition, Tammy was a very depressed person deep down--hence the tears. Because I am depressed myself, I sense it in others easily.

    Hope Kathleen comes out okay. I will be thinking of her today.

    Love you!

  7. Tammy Faye was an excellent sport.

    I could use a little more magic mascara myself.

    Happiest Tuesday to you.

  8. Oh hell, I just had to laugh out loud at this, in a GOOD way. You are balm for my sould, Ms. Moon, you are. Here's to showers and hair washing and a few hours with Owen.

  9. Do you remember those "I Ran Into Tammy Faye Baker" shirts?

  10. I wore false eyelashes for the first time on Halloween and have a new found respect for Ms. Tammy.

    I would love to read your short story.

    Sometimes being clean is overrated.

  11. Hooray for feeling clean. Someday's I'm just too tired to bother, which makes it feel so much better when I do. I love a soak in the tub. I love your decor and your taste in documentaries. That woman was fascinating. I love a well written phrase too. I bet you've written some pretty good ones yourself.
    My friends in rural Delaware used to say Go on with your bad self, meaning you go girl. Funny how those little sayings moved up and down the east coast.
    Hope you're feeling better today. My flu shot made me feel drained, but I'm glad I got it.

  12. You are BACK. This post is brilliant (not that your other ones weren't, but you were sick).

    I'm not a mystery gal but that passage of Raymond Chandler's was outstanding -- and intriguing.

    Have a wonderful day --

  13. Bethany- Those dolls which look "real" freak me the hell out. Sorry. I'm glad I could make you smile this morning.

    Jeannie- I think with Chandler it's going to be a LOT of gravy. And I'm going to enjoy every drop.
    And maybe you're right- Tammy Faye didn't take herself too seriously. Which is a gift. I wish I had it.

    Ms. Bastard-Beloved- You may be right about the depression. And Jimmy Carter- don't forget to add him to the list of real Christians.
    Love you, darling.

    Lisa- Me too on the mascara.

    Kori- It's been a great day.

    DTG- They had some of those in the movie.

    Karen- I know but being clean after being sick for awhile is mighty nice. I've never worn false eyelashes. Not even once. I wear glasses. What's the point?

    Mel- Something about that phrase- you're bad self- just cracks me up. I love it!

    Elizabeth- Yep. Definitely feeling better. Thanks, honey.

  14. You are totally right about President Carter. TOTALLY.

  15. Ms. Bastard-Beloved- I know you know.

  16. You are so right about Tammy. I always wanted to give her a hug.

    the doll thing. serious creep factor. my mother made me one as her big surprise big gift for my wedding, complete with the dress replicated from fabric she had my mother-in-law( who made my dress) save for her.
    I wrapped it in many layers and hid it at the back of my closet for years, blaming crazy babies who would break it until I finally had the courage to toss it.
    The Seinfeld episode re the doll on the bed... totally kills my husband and I . :)

  17. deb- Although I usually like the old toys which look like miniatures of the real thing like buses and cars and ovens, "real" looking dolls are just creepy. Give me rag dolls. I'll be happy.
    What a strange present. Bless her heart. I am proud of you for throwing it away.

  18. Those alcoholic authors had a particular angst that just allowed so much to come out and in such an original way. I think that is why I am attracted to alcoholics. They are original characters.

  19. The truth is that most days, the 10 minutes in the shower are the only time I get to myself. So I completely understand.
    Yeah, Tammy Faye was something else. All her tears... Yes, she sure did cry a lot. I used to think she was so unhappy.

  20. Found my way here from Tearful Dishwasher. On the chance that I do, at some point, grow up, Raymond Chandler is who I wish to become, not his life but his way with words. He showed us Los Angeles as no one else has...the text you quoted was a perfect introduction to those who have yet to read him. I hope your cold is better.


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