i'm a barely-barefoot

i'm not a never-nude; rather, i suffer from a slight variation of this debilitating disorder. from october until april, i'm a barely-barefoot. underneath any pair of socks, i wear another pair... of novelty socks. you know: those adorable hosiery that beckon to your 12-year-old soul from the end-caps near the shoe department at target.

i've purchased several dollar pairs on late night summer camp impulse sprees over the years and have also received several pairs from the judester. she's made them place-settings at my father's pierre cardin smoked-mirror dining table [oooh, i want that table!] and even put them in holiday cards and sent them by mail.

i've got quite a collection:

• a few pair with crazy stripes
  
• some are brightly flowered
  
• ones that describe sagittarians
  
• ones with a sassy blonde in a pink dress that say "attitude"
  
• orange ones with a fierce black cat that say "meow!" in huge letters
  
• footie-style [not fouetté] purple ones with frog-headed polka dots
  
• i've got ones adorned with a red and green bear that say "beary kissmass" [my first pair], given to me by my freshman-year dance team secret santa, jewish tamar.

did i mention they appeal to my inner twelve-year-old?

i put a fresh pair on my freshly-washed feet each day and scrunch on a new pair over them. then, at night, i take the over-pair off and hop into bed. so far, so good -- we'll see how we fare as we get into the truly frigid months.

??? = so you

now if i could just have her money...

i received this photo in the mail from sister-in-law and avid blog-commenter, laurel. according to the card with which it was enclosed, my little three-year-old nephew was sitting on her lap when they saw this photo of actor sandra bullock in a magazine.

"look, mommy! aunt paula is in a magazine! the tickle monster is famous!"

well, in case i need a last-minute halloween costume, i'm set!

i think it's the do-rag/sunglasses/athletic attire combo that equals me about my appearance. i've had a lot of signature me-things: big dumb bow hairclips and a rainbow of mesh shorts in college, my "funny little black glasses" [according to one eden prairie pom mom], my black cleopatra hairstyle circa 1997 [the era of impending doom].

"i saw a person with ___fill in the blank ____ and i thought it was you."

how would you fill in the blank?

baby needs a new pair of shoes

i went online to do some shoe shopping awhile back.

i ordered the jupiter, which is made by this spanish company called novacas. while they do make some pretty damn sassy footwear, they're notoriously narrow. these are no exception -- i'm exchanging them. it's a bummer 'cos these are kinda casual without being schlubby.

i also like the ally by vegetarian shoes -- it's a little nicer [but still a maryjane] and could be a less dressy alternative to my high heeled knee-high boots.

more casual is the solar by earth. again with the maryjanes, but slightly less square and chunky than the clarks i already have.

i am also craving some clogs -- i like earth's kharma 2. something about clogs just makes me wanna put on the warmest, wooliest socks and go pumpkin shopping... or something. casey disagrees with mules in cold weather [bear in mind this is the man that wears thick woolen tube socks with boots in the summertime] but i say it's possible.

so there you have it: what do you think? what's your gut reaction? give me your opinion! in case you were wondering, they're all the same price.

female collegiate athletes

"...and so then? i totally spiked the ball and hit her! i think i knocked the flour paste outta her. haw haw haw!"

i did some choreography for a college dance team this weekend and it was a terrific [yet physically painful] experience. in spite of one torn knee cartilage and one ripped hamstring, my hosts were smiling, gracious, and fun. they endeavored to be polite and respectful without being unresponsive. that's nice.

choreography is like putting together a puzzle: counts have to be mapped, formations have to be crafted and musicality need to be taken into account. a step into the practice facility is more of a leap of faith in your own craftsmanship. you have to believe in it yourself before you can ask twelve others to leap with you. with that said, it's the coolest thing ever to envision something in your little head [or big head, in my case] and see it willed to life by young, talented people who have faith in you, too. like having a child, it's a process that may seem mundane, but is miraculous every time. it's also like what i envision some kind of surrogate pregnancy and childbirth to be in that you have this project you bring yourself to nausea [or raging acid reflux, in my case] to complete. as you come close to the due date and there are just finishing touches left, you just want to get it out already. you bring the finished product into the world by pushing, forcing, trying other methods, breathing, keeping positive, aching, wishing. you finish with an ass-slap of an ending pose, and everyone in the room applauds exhaling laboriously. then, you spend sometime cleaning off the goo and checking its parts to make sure everything is where it needs to be. you leave it in the encircled arms of its new caretaker and hope for the best. then, when you have a deliciously crisp check in your hand, you forget how effing painful the entire process really was and say, "wow, that wasn't so bad at all. that was easy. let's do another."

on the other end of the spectrum, i flew home with a collegiate volleyball team. i made some observations:

• they are big. i caught my reflection as i walked behind them to baggage claim and was struck by my smallness. after a weekend of poking at my doughiness in the bleary glow of the hotel's fluorescent lighting, i came to the realization that i am, in fact, a miniature person.
  
• they are loud. in truth, i found their boisterous guffaws pretty damned annoying. their coach never urged them to use their indoor voices, which i found odd. why are volleyball players not reminded that they are ambassadors for their schools and to monitor their decorum as such? perhaps i am oversensitive because the threat of failing as responsible role models is an ominous cloud that hangs over the sunniest of spirit squad programs. whenever i hear this university's name, i'll always remember glowering at these women who could squash me.
  
• they are fine with that. i did admire their comfort level. no self-conscious lipgloss application, no tough-girl posturing. just an androgynous zeal for life. i don't encounter that many women like that so i thought it was cool to witness.

wanted: best best friend

having friends is like dating. in many respects, best-friendship is governed by a lot of the same dynamics. there's cheating, abuse, neediness, the whole ugly lot. sometimes, there is the desire to break up with a friend -- maybe the relationship has become toxic and routine. yeah, i know we've had good times and all, but it's time for us to move on. things have gotten stale and i don't feel good about myself when i'm around you. it's best we part ways. be "single" again. i pine for best-friend singledom: walking into a room of diverse and like-minded individuals that present so many possibilities of friendship.

just as some looking for love create lists of desirable attributes, so have i for designing the best best friend:

1. reading does not include smutty celebrity gossip rags
   
2. for every one fashion magazine, must subscribe to two other non-fashion magazines
   
3. knowledge of/experience with npr, blogs, craigslist, google, and snopes a plus
   
4. must have at least a 20gb ipod with more than just a smattering of top 40 singles on it -- pink mini ipod owners take caution
   
5. like political views not important, but must respect differing opinions. willingness to avoid the topic altogether preferred.
6. must bravely yet lovingly call me on my shit and expect the same in return
7. must have some sense of personal style without being a fashion plate
   
8. self-love and acceptance required: this includes moments of no makeup, cellulite, pimples, and general chubbiness. verbally castigating oneself for any of the above is prohibited.
9. being a loyal and supportive workout/dance class buddy a strong plus
10. martyrs, luddites, airheads, chick-lit addicts, narcissists, passive-aggressives and backlashers need not apply

if you could design the ideal best friend for yourself, what would you choose?

looks like the gap for me from now on

www.jcruel.com

country-time!

good god! is big hair far behind?

country music is everywhere lately... and it's scaring me. is it just me or has it taken over the galaxy? skeletal starlets are all sidling up to stetsoned swooners. good morning america seems to have an endless stream of cma winners performing. even reba mcintyre has a clothing line now. come on: reba is a character you might see dana carvey playing on saturday night live. seriously. she was showing her line of apparel on some show, and i couldn't even listen to her over-the-top twang as she described the elegant cut of a pair of slacks. it was just ridiculous to me. oprah had the prim faith hill on and the chicago audience went koo-koo crazy, too. i don't get it.

i suppose the pendulum had to swing back this way after hip hop was on top for so long. i'm glad that scene is over, too, but country? gah!

weekendstreamofconsciousness

madge: "that's right! your esophagus is soaking in it!"

i know i'm so behind on updating. here's a recap of the weekend!

dinner at aunt x's: dinner ended up being rather entertaining. aunt x's daughter also joined us and we four enjoyed very lively if lengthy repast. there was a great deal of full-volume crosstalk and a lot of pohhh-poh-poh-pohing about my father's insane wife's antics. we looked at some pictures and took some, too. saw our front door from her back porch window and cursed at the flock of lovebirds held captive there trying to chime in with our discussion. as we left, they lavished many compliments on casey and, as is wont for greek immigrants to do, even ptou-soued him. yes, greek people do pretend to spit on babies, brides, and the very fortunate. no, they don't actually spit on people like my big fat greek wedding.

that night, i could not sleep from the raging t.g.s i was suffering. not toxic shock syndrome; toxic garlic syndrome! i'm not using cloves of garlic as some ecologically-sound, sustainable tampon. i'm saying the delightful vegetarian fare my sweet thea prepared was virtually translucent for all the pureed garlic in it. laying in bed, i had visions of detatching my entire tongue and placing it in a bowl of palmolive.

saturday night's alright: friday, we treated our sour stomachs to bubble tea and mac-'n'-cheese and, on saturday, worked on the garden. i planted one hundred daffodil bulbs and casey strung up snake lights around the arbor for our pizza party with dina, riccardo, and nicole. too much canned special export was drunk [cack!] and many, many s'mores were eaten. we got in a few rounds of fusion frenzy on the xbox and before we knew it, it was 1:30a! my right arm started to ache and burn-- i seem to have strained something in my wrist from digging.

christening: the ceremony seemed almost as if conducted at an el-stop. one small shift of people arrived on time. people stood and walked in and out, carrying squalling toddlers by the arm, oblivious to the encantations. others milled about to get a better view as the priest swiftly performed his rites. the most southerly cousins sauntered in, mumbling sotto voce about the drive all the way up to the north shore while sliding into pews. some more members of the immediate family [including fire-aunt and uncle, the grandparents!] arrived mid- to post-ceremony, joining the small cluster of people who believe it really does take eight adults to change a toddler into a christening suit. despite the lack of focus, it was cool: the priest's sermon incorporated some etymology lessons on the words charisma and enthusiastic. he explained the symbolism of the water, the vessel, the olive oil, etc. i was pretty damn riveted. nonetheless, do i see a baby vinaigrette in my future? not so much.

ladies who lunch: afterward, the luncheon was okay. i think the waitstaff was rock-paper-scissoring to see who would have to go tend to the circus of eleventy rugrats scampering about underfoot of a half dozen very boisterous, assertive women. the fire-aunt again acted as though she sees me so infrequently that she doesn't recognize me [i have seen her more in the last three months than i usually do in five years] and remind me yet again that she doesn't like my hair black so don't dye my hair black again ever never she doesn't like it yuck. the last time my hair was "dark brown" [according to the bottle], it was 1997, guys. when i scrambled for my keys in a fervent attempt to flee the scene, she bellowed exhortations to keep in touch, bouncing the grandchild she refuses to call by her given, very modern american name. i took a step towards the door and cheerily chirped, "okay!" and she screeched, "oh, yeah? it's always 'okay' -- when?! huh?!" i replied, "how about you? how 'bout when are you gonna keep in touch?" realizing i got her there, she reached up and wrapped her tanned bejeweled arms around my neck for a boa-constricting hug with a hissing, snake-like laugh.

learning what 'hanging out' means: spent the evening babysitting snuggly, green-pooping lickey and marveling at c.j.'s knowledge of which racecar numbers correlate to which nascar drivers. we explained that mom and dad were coming home later, but we came over to hang out with him, and he asked, "what's hanging, queso?"