A random something that I think about every time I watch a parade is how difficult it is to get a good picture of it. They never look right. There’s always too much in them, which makes them too busy, which means you just don’t know where to look.
When I’ve gone to the Rose Parade in Pasadena, the floats I photograph look flat and uninteresting, yet the reason I took the picture is the exact opposite, I thought the floats were amazing and beautiful. City parades are the same, although I’ve come to realize that city parades are really just local businesses advertising themselves while riding in the back of a pick-up truck waving flags.
Disneyland’s parades are even more busy, MORE lights, MORE people, MORE things in the picture. What were we looking at? Where did it go? And the electrical parade is at night, so even more tough to take a picture of. Plus, I think at least half of the experience at Disneyland’s parades is their music, which of course you can’t capture in a picture.
Is it just me?
Pictures are original content from the Pasadena Rose Parade, circa 1983 or 1984… a unicorn float, a smurf float and a cottage float.
In case you wanted garden soil without poop, here’s your brand.
– Posted from my iPhone
Sunday evening, I was organizing William’s bathroom. I had purchased a new square basket (square!!! I love square things) to replace the oval one I had been using to store his bath art supplies. Yes, he has bath art supplies. Like bath crayons and paint. Why didn’t we have this stuff when I was a child??
That inspired me to organize the other bath toys he has, like his 33 duckies and 7 squeezie trains and 4 plastic vehicles (from the Target $1 aisle!!) and his innumerable Disney character bath toys that I plugged their intake holes with aquarium sealant to keep out that nasty ass mold that seems to grow inside of them.
So, there I was, bent over the edge of the tub, organizing things in there. As is the normal way with most projects, I start something small and all of a sudden it looks like Armageddon is going on. There wasn’t a space for a foot, and everything was in the way of everything else. My swimsuits are hanging in there, as well as William’s swim trunks, and various towels and flip-flops and the ornamental shower curtain (no one takes showers in there right now).
Then I decided to organize the things sitting on the counter, because what’s a disaster without making it a complete disaster? Why leave something untouched? So, I started moving things around on the counter. I had two tubes of toothpaste and a toothbrush in my left hand. I stood up and felt a tickle on my collarbone area. I figured it was just my hair escaping from my hair clip, but for some reason I glanced in the mirror … and there was a huge spider sitting right there. I thought about this for about a half a second and, of its own volition, my right hand came out of nowhere and slapped that spider dead.
I had a hand print on my collarbone for about a half hour after that. I guess, even though my brain didn’t tell it to, my hand went into survival mode. You’ll be glad to know that I used a square of toilet paper to dispose of that nasty thing. No need to get my fingers dirty.
How about something random today? Like, things I have in my purse:
-purple plastic spoon
-small plastic bottle of Hershey’s syrup
-small bottle of lotion
-Nikon camera (point & shoot variety)
-small pink hairbrush
-credit card holder
-small notepad & pen
-Cover Girl compact
-Neutrogena stick sunblock
-small dental floss
-small bag holding Advil, Tylenol and Claritin
-several packets of Splenda
William and I were using a food scale to weigh each item in my purse, and then the entire purse. We discovered that somehow, all these tiny little items all add up to 5 pounds that I lug around with me everyday.
If that’s not random, I don’t know what is…
I’m sitting here painting my fingernails. It’s Saturday night, the child is sleeping and the husband is upstairs with a messed up back trying to sleep. He threw it out Thursday night picking up a basketball. You know, you never mess up your back by doing a crazy, wild something or other. It’s always the mundane thing, like picking up a basketball or getting a roll of toilet paper out from under the sink that does it. If someone says they did hurt their back by doing something they shouldn’t, I’m not sure I’d believe them! ha
My community is heating our pools again. I think my favorite time of year is right now as a result. Every April, it’s too early in the season for most people to go swimming, or maybe not everyone realizes the pools are heated. Whatever the reason, it’s typically just me and the birds and planes overhead. I get a little giddy feeling each time I head out on my bicycle for the pool, which is a nice change from forcing myself to go to the gym and trying to find something redeeming about swimming in a cesspool of germs blanketed by chlorine.
Another recent highlight — for the first time in a long time, maybe since I left the other company (so four years ago?), I was given something for Admin Professional Day. Given by the newest boss I’ve taken on just a couple months ago. I kind of think it’s one of the Hallmark holidays, but if someone wants to honor it, well, I won’t scoff at it, that’s for sure. Plus, the card he gave me was really pretty.
Aaaand, my fingernails are nearly dry. No clever ending here.
A few months ago, the management company replaced the toilet paper dispensers in the restrooms here at work. This travesty was wrought one afternoon and, had I known, I would have removed one of the keys and saved it when they were available, sticking out of the dispensers the afternoon they were installed. Then I could have been known as the Bathroom Hero and rescued the toilet paper rolls out of there when needed.
Now we have these dispensers that are ineffective… the toilet paper breaks off (double ply, even) before you get even a couple squares off. To be somewhat efficient, you pretty much have to start wrangling and wrestling with the thing, while it clangs and bangs in protest, the second you sit down. In my estimation, that kind of defeats the purpose of taking a bathroom “break.”
In frustration I vented to a co-worker one day about them as we were leaving the restroom. She nodded in understanding and commiserated that she hated them, too. Which makes it amusing then, to me, is that sometimes the janitors leave extra rolls of toilet paper outside the stalls on top of the feminine hygiene dispenser and, inevitably, those rolls of toilet paper always end up in the stall, sitting on top of the toilet paper dispensers. And those extra rolls of toilet paper are always used up first.
Moral of the Story: One should always test drive toilet paper dispensers before installing them.
I arrived at the gym last night for my swim, and as I opened the door to enter, the gal behind the desk looked up from her conversation with her co-worker and exclaimed, “I love how you always come in and have such a big smile. It’s SO nice.”
I didn’t say anything, but answered by smiling again and laughed a little.
She said, “No, really. I mean, so many people come in and they’re all grumpy and mad, but you always come in with a smile. It’s nice.”
What I didn’t tell her is, first and foremost I’m there to do something I love — swim — but more than that, I wear a ratty old Jeezus-blue bathrobe to and from the gym. They say if you wear a bathrobe in public, you’re either incredibly rich or you’ve escaped from an insane asylum. I know I’m not rich, so I simply hope that my smile distracts from my ridiculousness.
Apparently, it does.