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Okay, first, here’s my list of the things I would NEVER do if I had a week left...
Skydive...who does that? And, why?
Bungee jump...again, is there a reason for this...at all?
Live in Alaska in the winter (or, say, Minnesota)...even for a week. People who live in the northern tundra are odd, they talk funny and their lives are shortened in direct proportion to the weight of all the clothes they have to pile on their bodies just to walk out to the curb (if they could see the curb for all the snow) to pick up the morning paper.
Stay home. If I only had a week, I’d be in Florence so fast it would make the Dr.’s head spin. Oh, and I’d fly first class and stay at the Florence Four Seasons.
Clean out the litter box. That’s a given.
Now, for some of the things I WOULD do if I had but a week:
Let’s be honest...spend WADS of money (probably whether I had it or not)...on clothes. I want to go out in style...and shoes...I’d finally be able to find a pair of handmade shoes that are gorgeous and fit my feet.
Go straight to Florence...per above. As a matter of fact, I’d probably wait to buy my shoes until I got to Italy. We all know about their shoes.
Take a 5-day trek on horseback in New Zealand...only 5 days because I would need a couple of days afterward to clean up and regroup before checking out.
Eat whatever the hell I want to for breakfast, lunch and dinner...like lobster with eggs for breakfast, lobster sandwich for lunch and steamed lobsters (3) for dinner.
Make people laugh. I’ve been trying to do that all my life, so that’s also a given, but my people would have to laugh whether they thought I was funny or not...just for that week.
Here’s my advice for all of you out there who only have a week...Live like no-one’s watching...hell, do that every day anyway and see what happens. You might lose some friends because they’d be so embarrassed by your behavior, but after a week, you won’t miss them anymore anyway, right?
KK
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The first thing I would ask the doctor is if he could give me a prescription for speed pills so I could stay awake until the end. Wouldn’t want to waist a minute by sleeping!
Although KK’s idea of nirvana is a pretty pair of shoes, I would take mine off and never wear another pair again. If I had my way, people would only wear socks or go barefooted, except in winter…or if you’re missing a toe.
I would go to the store and get some caviar, lemons, crepe dough, crème freche, and scallions and go right home and make Beggar’s Purses for KK and me. They are little bags of caviar, crème freche and lemon juice that are tied closed with a long, scallion sliver and then flash fried so that the crepe part is crispy but the insides are still chilled. You’re supposed to eat it in one bite. It’s supposed to be an explosion of caviar in your mouth. It’s sort of like bungee jumping but the thrill is longer, it’s not scary, and your heart doesn’t fall out of your mouth. I would also eat an entire red velvet cake, a whole bar-b-que’ed cabrito and a bag of Lays ‘Classic’ potato chips. I’ll get back to you on what I would eat on the second day…
If I had a week…I would fly to Hawaii and rent an all-wooden yacht to sail around the islands. I would eat lots of teriyaki, drink Pina Coladas and wear two coconuts for a bra. I would try to surf again, wear flowers in my hair, and sing ‘Bali High’ too loudly while drinking a Mai Tai.
Things I wouldn’t do if I only had a week:
Laundry
Empty the dish washer
Buy a dog
Think about people I hate
Worry about the house
Pay any credit card bills
Watch Dancing With The Stars
Weigh myself
Straighten my hair
Change the oil in my car
Listen to Rap music
Call any business connections
I like what KK said about living your life as if you only had a week. Wouldn’t that be wild? God, the world would go into chaos. People would be swinging from the trees, and all of the credit card companies would have to declare Section Eight (KK just told me that it’s really Chapter 11...wonder what Section Eight is?). The water parks would be full and everybody would be drunk.
SalGal
Tags: bucket list, wish list, the midlife gals, midlife, things to do
As one half of the Midlife Gals, I’ve been a Sister of the Bad Habit, an Easter Nazi, a Lebowski Dudette, Nurse Ratchett, a rodeo announcer, Queen Lizbet, a detective...and so many others. How many people can say that? Not many, I hope, cuz it can get a little confusing up in my head with all these characters floating around, just waiting to be called upon to take over my ‘dimensions’ for a day.
On the other hand, I’ve been a secretary, a medical transcriptionist, a receptionist, a shop owner, a sales clerk, a waitress...and so many others...others that, although they served me well at those times, have been packed away now in my Naugahyde-left-brain-bad-memory suitcase, and it’s in storage. Been there, done that. It’s time to let the characters out now.
Would that I cared more about what people might think when one of my nutty alter-egos jumps forth for the day, but at this age, there’s just not enough time to worry about it (it takes SUCH a long time to worry...ya gotta go over and over things until they’re horribly clear in your mind...and then...well, it’s just too much). And, as The Ancient One is want to say when I might be worried about what someone is thinking of me, “Just THINK of how much time that person is spending NOT thinking about you.†“Thanks, Mom...I feel so much better now.â€Â
I don’t even know what my next personality manifestation is going to be which is the MOST fun. She will just surprise me one morning, and reveal herself when I’m deciding what to wear. My ‘costume’ will magically appear on my body and then off I’ll go, creating tomfoolery wherever I might find myself that day. Try it. You’ll either wind up in jail or discover a whole new way of living.
KK
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Let’s see, whom have I been as one-half of The Midlife Gals? I’ve been a nun, an elf, Mayree-Queen of Scotts, a woman in a coma, a Jazzy Scooter Gymnast, and Miss Edith Pilaf. The last one mentioned having had the most hits on YouTube although some of the most threatening comments. Lighten up all you Edith Piaf fans out there - it was only a movie! And besides, the hat I wore was funnier than shit.
As a real working female professional, I have been a casting director, a messenger, an acting coach, an actor/producer, and a maker of crepes on top of Rendezvous Mountain in the Grand Tetons. The last one was actually my first job in life and people left me joints as tips. This was not unusual in 1970 and it’s not hard to make cheddar/blueberry crepes when you’re stoned.
My therapist told me I am a split personality. I had always assumed that it was a manifestation of my Gemini sun sign but she says it is a little more substantial than that. There is the sweet, naïve, ‘I trust everybody’ SalGal, and then there is the ‘don’t fuck with me’, shoot- the-finger, tell the waiter to take it back SalGal. The latter one protects the sweet one.
I’ve definitely got the angel on one shoulder and the ‘whorebitch fromhell’ on the other. I’m really genuinely nice to people with whom I do business all day, except for the odd times when I feel I’m being cheated, lectured or lied to, or threatened with a gun. You can have all three of those things happen to you at the same time. That could happen if you were a hostage maybe. Or it could happen if you pissed KK off enough.
Anyway….I am honest and express myself authentically in most moments. I’m an acting coach for God’s sake. We actors have to accept our darker human traits. We have to look into the shadows and be happy to spend time in the darkness of the human soul. It’s kind of like going into the dressing room of a strip club. There’s trash all over the place, it smells like a Vegas hair salon, and somebody’s butt is always in your face.
SalGal
Tags: midlife crisis, midlife, identity crisis, the midlife gals, costumes
March comes in like a lion and out like a lamb. It happens every year. The wind is blowing 40 miles an hour outside. It’s west Texas windy today, and even the birds aren’t flying. They’re all in their swaying nests thinking, “Da’yam! Grab the babies! I need to pee and fly and sing...what the HELL?!â€Â
For me, it’s not that ‘the answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind.’ It’s my HAIR! I’ve finally learned how to use ‘product’ in my hair, then this. My hair is so straight and fine that, when left to its own devices, it lays flat on my head like a wet, silk handkerchief. That might be okay if my head weren’t already misshapen with cowlicks where I don’t want them and a set of bangs that I’m growing out that now cover my eyes like beaded curtains in a French whore house.
But, our BFF, Sweet Pea, who just happens to be the daughter of a licensed beautician, taught me how to plaster the roots of my dry hair with a gooey, sticky white substance in a jar...and then spray the shit out of it after I’ve used my curling iron. It looks pretty damn good when I do that...until the wind blows. I think I’ve created a hair helmet that is impenetrable, but with winds at 40 mph, there are strays that get loose, straighten out and look like I’ve stuck bird feathers willy nilly to my scalp. It’s a dead giveaway that my hair doesn’t really look so perfect on any other given day. It’s humiliating, and there’s nothing I can do but try to tuck those patches back into the hair helmet.
I know I’m not alone here. You people with naturally curly hair can just kiss my ass because this is not a worry for you. Granted, your hair blows, but in nice wavy sections that then fall right back in place between gusts. I curse the day you were born (SalGal!).
So, wind, wind go away...come again some other day. Can’t I have one friggin season of peace? Summer will only bring humidity that births the wet, silk handkerchief syndrome again. But, here’s the thing. I can’t cut my hair off because then people call me Tom or Dick or Harry. Crap!
KK
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BLOWIN’ IN THE WIND
Anybody who grew up in west Texas has a healthy respect for the wind…and a good case of Post Tramatic Stress Syndrome. Just mention that it’s windy outside and it will dredge up memories of running home in a dust storm as the sand coming at you at 40 miles an hour, gives your legs a good skin peel, your eyebrows a coat of powdery, brown granules, and your nose some bugars the size of walnuts.
There is nothing romantic about the wind. The rain is Bess, the fire is Tess…and they call the wind Mariah. Well, that bitch Mariah must have been one abrasive, brash, blowhard from hell. She probably had ten kids out in the forests of Oregon, pushed them all out of the nest at age twelve, yelling at them from the porch to man-up! or if a girl, learn logging and bring home some firewood or don’t come back. One of siblings said to the other, ‘Man! Bess and Tess are prettier than the summer moon but mother can scream like a Banshee and hang the laundry out in a tornado. Let’s name the wind after her.â€Â
I don’t mind the wind like KK does because I have naturally curly hair and there’s nothing better than a cool wind on a hotflashin’ woman’s brow. And the wind is cool today. That’s nice. That hot, Texas, summer wind that blows the grackles out of the trees and kicks up the dirt at the Taco Shack is a damn nuisance and makes people grumpy. But on those hot days, a little wind is better than that godawful stillness that that causes the dogs to pant, slinging their saliva into your beer and the June Bugs to fall off the screen.
It’s always something. But I’d rather be here than in California with the mudslides and brush fires, or New Orleans with the hurricanes…or Salt Lake City with the Mormons. It’s all relative.
SalGal
Name a critter, and we got’em. We live in The Ancient One’s house smack-dab in the middle of a nice neighborhood in the central part of the city. The Mama raccoon has babies too. She tells us to get the hell away from our deck when she takes them out for a night-time stroll. She competes for scariest sounds with the possums when startled. It sounds like some horrible physical attack by an alien creature, and you better WALK AWAY. They’re not so fast, so you can walk and not run, but walk fast because they get pissed!
In the mornings, the birds just get carried away. We have about 379 different kinds of birds and they sing, chirp, click, bleep and peck their way through the early morning to the absolute delight of the Midlife Gals, but they drive the cats CRAZY. Oh, yeah, the cats...approximately 34 neighborhood cats wander through our yard on any given day. Those who are friendly come up onto the deck, and if they are wearing collars (especially with little bells), we take them off. Who does that...puts a bell on a cat so that they can’t do what they were born to do...HUNT. Their owners are obviously not cat people. And, if those collars are replaced, we do it all over again. We have a drawer full.
SalGal has named all of our potted plants. She’ll try to explain herself with her post, but I think that’s weird. I’ve come to call the palm, Cleo though. I need to humor her so that she won’t ask me to do any work in the garden. And, when she works in the garden, she wears an OLD pair of sandals...not just any sandals, Cole Haan sandals. They were perfectly lovely when she started gardening in them after we moved in with The Ancient One. I guess it’s an affirmation that she is above wearing sneakers or clogs or actual gardening shoes (ARE there gardening shoes?). At least she doesn’t wear a tiara (Gawd, I hope I haven’t just given her the idea!).
Spring is sprouting out all over our garden. New life, more spiders, bugs, flies and dead blooms to be plucked. More work for Sal. Good for her. We each have our jobs in life, and this is NOT one of mine.
KK
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My garden is my sanctuary, and I don’t think it’s weird at all that my plants have names. They feel vibrations you know. They can feel the vibration of being appreciated. Every plant that KK hates has a hard time thriving. Bonnie Bigdealia is a succulent that KK dislikes and so she is afraid to come out. Her new leaves are just peeking out, as Cleo the palm, The Gerber Baby and Rosie flourish and reach out for her. I feel sorry for Bonnie Bigdealia. She has produced some flowers at the tips of her pathetic red stems in order to gain favor with KK. It’s so sad.
Giney Vaginetti is my hydrangea. She is supposed to have giant blue blooms every summer but she has bad luck or karma or something. Just when her flower bulbs get ready to turn into full fledged flowers, a possum or armadillo or raccoon sneaks into the garden at night and eats them. Once a giant storm came and destroyed all of her babies. She is depressed and in need of some cow shit. She tries so hard and all in vain.
It is as if the plants and trees know when I’m there and they welcome me. Two weeks ago I was watering some iron plants under Myrtle (the tree) and she swept a lacy branch down and stroked my hair in gratitude. It was so nice. And really, I don’t mind the flea nests in my bangs at all.
Last week I pulled and dug up all those stupid dandelions that had decided to infiltrate the garden. I never would have noticed so early in the spring unless Caesar (our giant tree on the deck) hadn’t alarmed me by dropping his bark on them. He’s so protective. I ran out to halt the invasion and believe me they fought back. Their roots look like big ole hairy rat tails. Disgusting. The Biscuit (my hibiscus) looked on in approval and rewarded me with a 6-inch-wide orange blossom. I will continue my war with the evil dandelions until they are vanquished forever.
Life is like my garden and the people are the plants. You can’t water them but you can send them good vibrations, protect them from the possums, and throw them some bullshit when needed.
SalGal
The Midlife Gals love lists, so here are a few things that make me laugh (Gawd only knows what kind of list SalGal will come up with!):
What dogs do after you stick a spoonful of peanut butter in their mouths
The talking baby on the E-Trade commercials
A person whose car is so dusty/dirty that someone finger/wrote on their back windshield, “WASH ME, Dickhead!â€Â
Our videos, especially our new one, “Doctor Visit...Uh Oh! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iMqFNhmqXl0
Queen Elizabeth doing anything
Carol Burnett
Absolutely Fabulous BBC television shows
The Big Lebowski...Jesus
Cats after they’ve cleaned their privates but still have that one back leg sticking straight up
Martinis
Those little photo booth pictures of people acting stupid
The REALLY bad singers on American Idol
Nuns in habits
Alec Baldwin
Irene Dunn in the thirties
The yung’uns dressed like hippies
Stoned midlifers
A Fish Called Wanda
A dog’s first jump into the ocean surf...â€ÂICK,YILK...this water is SALTY!â€Â
White people dancing
Ellen Degeneres
So, what makes YOU laugh out loud?
KK
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Wet cats
Arrogant people
Billy Crystal
Whoopie Goldberg
Rush Limbaugh
Upside down dogs
KK nekkid
My hair when it rains
All My Children
Dancing With The Stars
Drunk people throwing up
The Menu at I-Hop
When KK and I plan our videos we drink wine and laugh a lot. When we make our videos we laugh even more. Our BFF Pam (the daughter of a licensed beautician) makes me laugh all the time. Dayam!! As long as it’s funny, life is good.
SalGal
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