Sometimes, Melissa runs her legs. Sometimes, she runs her mouth.

Category: Melissa’s life (Page 1 of 20)

The Favorites of 2019

I write this with the caveat that I have not been the “culture vulture”/consumer of pop culture that I usually am due to a whole host of factors that I may or may not share at a later date. [This year did, in fact, suck]  This was also a hard year for me with many challenges so I didn’t go out much either.   That is why I am not doing top 10 lists.  This is a long-winded paragraph to say I didn’t get out much in 2019.    Also, I don’t feel like expending the mental energy to rank anything although most of these do have a definite “number one.”

Another caveat, I live in Arkansas and apparently Parasite came to Arkansas for one week only.  This movie was in the state for one week only and I didn’t get any notice until the last day.  I had a work conflict for said last day.  Now it is gone.  GONE.  I keep telling people that Arkansas is not ass-backward and then something like this happens.   Bless their hearts.

 

MOVIES

  • Booksmart
  • Little Women

Booksmart will be a cult classic.  It didn’t get the numbers in the theater it deserved but I predict people will find it on streaming services soon.

BOOKS

  • Becoming by Michelle Obama
  • Pachinko by Min Jin Lee
  • The Secret History by Donna Tartt
  • This Will Only Hurt a Little by Busy Philipps

This is the year I, to my embarrassment, finally got around to reading Donna Tartt’s The Secret History so I am adding it to this list.

 

MUSIC

At my house, 2019 was the Billie Eilish and Lizzo show.  Both of these women are ridiculously talented and I adored numerous songs on each of these ladies’ respective albums.  Also, due to Spotify and satellite radio, I didn’t listen to that much new music.

  • All of Lizzo
  • All of Billie Eilish
  • Ready to Let Go by Cage the Elephant
  • Lover by Taylor Swift
  • Uptown Road by Lil Nas

 

 

 

TV

  • Fleabag
  • Marvelous Mrs. Maisel
  • Crazy Ex-Girlfriend
  • John Mulaney and the Sack Lunch Bunch
  • Barry
  • This is Us
  • Russian Doll
  • Unbreakable Kimmie Schmidt
  • Dickinson
  • Mindhunter

This was a year of great television but 2019 was the year of the Fleabag.  It is on everyone’s list and I am not sure I could say anything that hasn’t been said somewhere else.  It is simply a masterpiece.

This was also a personally heavy year so I didn’t seek out dramas.  So yeah, I’ll watch the good dramas of 2019 later.

 

 

 

 

 

The last Christmas Eve ever.

Christmas Eve has always been the best day of the year.  When we were kids, Mom and Dad would take us to my grandma’s house on December 23rd or a couple of days earlier.  [My Mom’s parents were Grandma and Grandpa.  My Dad’s parents were Mammaw and Pappaw. —Melissa]   Grandma comes from a long line of cotton farmers and she lives five miles outside of a small town with a population of approximately a thousand in Arkansas.  In the midst of all these cotton fields are four houses on the same side of the road in a half-mile line that housed the descendants of my great grandmother.   Mom and Grandma would bake cookies and cakes.  Sometimes, they would let me help.  My brother and I would spend those days running up and down the half-mile of road to my cousins’ house.    We would play. Sometimes we would get on our bikes and ride down another mile in the opposite direction to my cousin Sonya’s grandma Pee Wee’s house.  Then we would go into Sonny’s shop with all the power tools and saws and talk to Sonny.  Sonny would regale us with tall tales involving snakes that bit off his fingers which were terrifying since three of his fingers on his hand only went to the first knuckle.

On Christmas Eve, Mom and Grandma would cook a ham and make pimento and cheese along with a wide variety of appetizers and sweets.    We would eat ham and/or pimento and cheese sandwiches and then the family would open up all the gifts to make room under the tree for the presents Santa was going to bring later that night.   The Family was my Grandma and Grandpa, my Mom and Dad, my little brother, and my Aunt Iona.  Sometimes Iona’s roommate Debra would show up.  We would have to wait for my Aunt Iona to drive in from Little Rock and she would bring in her presents and frankly, some of Grandma’s presents in a big black trash bag.  Christmas Eve didn’t officially arrive until she arrived.

My cousins Martha and Sonny and their kids Sonya and Leslie would come over and there would be some liquor.  The house was filled with laughter, wadded wrapping paper, and toys.  We would listen to crazy stories, eat tons of food, and play.  Then we would go to bed so that Santa wouldn’t see us.  Mom said that if Santa saw us we wouldn’t get our presents because spying on people was naughty.  I don’t know if my Mom was purposefully ironic but I still laugh about that until this day.

The next morning, we would wake up and find the gifts Santa had left us.  Grandma and Mom would cook turkey and dressing and we would eat in the afternoon.  Then we would run to my Grandma’s sister Mooney’s house and see what presents my cousins Laura, Julia, Ben, and Dan got.  Then we would run further down the road and see what Sonya and Leslie got.  It was a lootathon.  Eventually, we would make it back home and sleep like we had been awake a thousand years because in kid years, we had been.

Over the years, the tradition morphed.  Grandpa died when I was six and eventually Grandma’s friend Bud would spend Christmas eve with us.   He would bring Grandma this three-pound box of cheap chocolate candies from Walmart that we would nosh throughout the evening.  He was loud and funny.   Then the kids eventually heard an alternative theory of Santa and didn’t get presents from him on Christmas Day.  He gave those presents to Mom and Dad and we opened all of our presents on Christmas Eve.  Sonya and Leslie got married and as such started spending Christmases with their spouses.  Sonny and Martha started using Christmas Eve to prepare for their own grandchildren.  Iona started having severe back problems and couldn’t sleep on the couch anymore.  When Bud died, she quit coming down for Christmas Eve.

Now in 2019, my Grandma is 90.  She is in a wheelchair and can’t really cook as much due to her inability to stand.   My Mom is seventy and a little tired from taking care of my Dad.  My Dad has dementia/Alzheimer’s.  I honestly don’t know his official diagnosis.  I know that he doesn’t know what day it is most of the time.  He forgets when he eats.  He recognizes me but he, on more than one occasion, has asked me, “Missy.  When did you get gray hair?”  Well, I started getting gray hair when I was 35.  I am 46 now.  It’s not histrionic to conclude that this might be the last Christmas Eve that my father recognizes me at all.

This is the last Christmas Eve ever, isn’t it?  I don’t want to jinx anything or be unnecessarily pessimistic but this is really it.  Another one will be a miracle and sometimes miracles happen.  Stubborn jackassery is a dominant trait in my family’s gene pool as well as longevity.  My Grandma’s sister lived to be over 100 but realistically, this is it.

This is the last Christmas Eve and I don’t want it to be the last one.  I don’t want it to be the end.  And yet it’s the end.

I’ve always been a woman who valued her independence more than anything but what I wouldn’t give to have someone to hold my hand during these next couple of days.  This is so hard but I know what I must do.  I need to get up, pack, put on some makeup, get in the car, and be Daddy’s little girl on Christmas eve one last time.

Merry Christmas everyone.

 

 

 

 

Festivus

How do I explain Festivus to someone with Alzheimer’s?  Crap this might be harder than I thought.

Well Melissa, you spent quite an astonishing amount of time watching television and one of the shows that you watched regularly was called Seinfield.  It was the story of four people engaged in a Sartrean level of dysfunctional enmeshment named respectively Jerry, George, Elaine, and Kramer.

Okay, that was pretentious bullshit.

It was the story of a comedian whose claim to fame was poking fun at the minutiae of life and his three friends bumbling through life:  Jerry, George, Elaine, and Kramer.  George’s parents were extremely reactive and weren’t really into Christianity or Judaism so they made up their own holiday called Festivus.

Oh fuck this shit, I’ll just put a link to the Wikipedia page and call it a day.

But today is Festivus and this is the airing of the grievances for 2019.

  • People who do not put their buggies in the buggy space in parking lots.  Walmart and other shopping areas were nice enough to make a designated space for buggies.  They do this so that cars will not be damaged.  The least you could do is not be all wrapped up in yourself and think of your fellow shoppers who now have to drive like the parking lot is an obstacle course in order to buy cheap overprized crap.
  • Democratic Party of Arkansas.  You are a complete hot mess.  First, there is this issue with misappropriation and how you got your BFFs to do the audit.  THEN!  You managed to not vet Josh Mahony and he withdrew his Senate campaign after the deadline because his employment records were spotty and now there is no Democratic opponent against Tom Cotton.   I still haven’t gotten a satisfactory explanation of how this happened. In fact, I haven’t gotten an explanation at all.   This shouldn’t be your first rodeo and you’re acting like its amateur hour.  Tom Cotton had Koch money which means he had money to dig through his opponent’s record with a fine-tooth comb.  This was the race where the opponent would dig and dig and dig figure out that you pinched a girl’s butt in kindergarten and somehow you couldn’t figure out that Mahoney didn’t have a regular job and lied about it on campaign forms.  You ask for his tax forms. Did you ask for his tax forms?  Who did what and when?  I want an explanation for this. I want a detailed explanation of this.  I want names.  There isn’t enough ink. It’s almost midnight. I’m going to put a pin in this and come back to it.
  • Mom and Dad, you don’t see me.  You really don’t see me.
  • Bill Hader.  Tulsa, Oklahoma is the 50th largest metropolitan city in America.  AND YET! you talk about your hometown like it is a rural outpost in Yoknapatawpha County.  Was deer season a school holiday in Tulsa?  I don’t think so.  Did you get stuck behind a tractor driving to school?  Did you get attacked by a crazed rooster named uncle Jesse?  You sure as hell didn’t shit in an outhouse in Tulsa Oklahoma, did you Bill?
  • Self, quit it with the procrastination.

 

 

Well that was a break

Sometimes, life does not work out the way you expect.  You make plans and then something happens to completely obliterate those plans.    I was in the hospital for a couple of days.   Depression lies.  Depression told some whoppers.  Apparently, I need to go in for a sleep study at a later date.   I do feel a lot better but it threw me off the Holidailies rhythm.

I am writing the stories in long form and will be publishing them in bulk, if I can get away with it.  We’ll see.

 

Death, George Bush, and people

George H.W. Bush died two days ago and his death brings up a very profound and unique phenomenon in life: the way we treat our dead. I have seen the obituaries and I have seen the criticism that we, as an American society, are only focusing on the good side of George Bush. Well, he did just die, but to be fair, when a police officer shoots an African American, the dead African American’s drug use and other criminal activity gets noted in the press when he dies.

It seems that since the development of the internet and our ability to get a wider breadth of information, we have become incapable of exploring the depth of information. Everyone and everything gets oversimplified. Our brains, even before the internet, in an effort to be more efficient catalogs information in schemas and instinctually notes information that confirms stereotypes while ignoring information that contradicts those stereotypes. It’s hard to deal with information that does not fit a linear or cohesive function.

So that is what is happening with George H.W. Bush right now. He died at 94 and that’s a good age for dying. If by 94, you didn’t do everything you wanted to do, then that’s on you. You definitely had enough time. He became President after Ronald Regan after being his vice president for eight years. Ronald Regan was quite the charismatic guy and George Bush came across as his smarter much more boring accountant. But he did fight in World War 2 and worked in the CIA so he seemed to have some experience. He also had his share of controversy including Iran Contra.

So who is right. Everyone. People are messy. People are imperfect. Of course, he was charming. Charm is a part of politics. It was also a simpler time when there was less tribalism in politics and there was more discourse. Some of his policies through people under the bus and his policies regarding AIDS were bordering on cruel. I’m sure there are people out there who hate his guts. No one living gets through life without pissing someone off. It’s the imperfection of humanity. We fuck up. We get angry and say cruel things. We get wrapped up in our own lives and neglect other people and things. It’s the human condition. We strive to be better and sometimes we fail.

But I think in these times, it is necessary to take a step back and remember the purpose of an obituary. Who keeps an obituary? The close members of the family and people who were close enough to the deceased to go to the funeral. (An obituary is also used by genealogists. It tells you the surviving family members and the predeceased but that’s another topic) It’s part of the ceremony we use to comfort those who are left behind. Family and friends want to know that the person whose death has so broken their hearts was remembered fondly by others. They want a story about how the person who just died made a difference in their own lives. They want validation that their pain is real. So the family cuts out the obituary and puts it in a book somewhere and it sits there. An obituary isn’t intended to be an exhaustive history of the person. It’s meant to be a memento.

So maybe out of respect for the people who saw George H.W. Bush as a father, a cousin, a friend, and a colleague that we step back and focus on those positive moments that made him a great person. Yes, we remember something fond of him, too. I’m sorry for your loss. Even public figures have families. We can analyze his broader legacy in the coming weeks.

Hello. Is this thing on?

Hello. Is this thing on? It’s me, Melissa. I know it’s been a while. I’ve been busy but life got in the way. Then a health issue reminded me that life was fleeting and that I liked writing. I want to spend more time doing it. So here I am.

We’ll talk about the health issues later. I have 30 days to fill.

Also, during this time, I realized that my Dad’s memory is fading. His Dad died of Alzheimer’s. His Dad’s Dad’s Mom died of Alzheimer’s. Crap. It’s only a matter of time before I start forgetting shit. I need to write this down.

So these 30 days will be the stories I need to write down because I don’t want to forget them and other random things. These will be the stories that are near and dear to my heart. The stories that might be helpful for others to hear. Some will just be plain silly. It will be a mixture— not unlike life itself. I hope you enjoy it.


Mini facial review (Rodan and Fields)

I am a fool for free samples. The tiny packaging. The ability to try new things. THE FREE! It’s so fun.

When my friend Jennifer started selling Rodan and Fields, she offered some “mini-facials” to people who filled out this skincare quiz on the website. I jumped on at the chance. FREE! Facial!

What I got in the mail a couple of days later was a little packet of Microdermabrasion paste, a capsule of Redefine Night Renewing serum, and a capsule of lip renewing serum.

I washed my face with micellular water and went to town.

The Microdermabrasion paste is a thick gritty scrub that you rub all over your face. The particles were thick. It like rubbing sand on your face. I can imagine if you have sensitive skin that this might be a little too rough. I did like the feeling that I was rubbing off all the dead skin on my face.

Then I opened the blue capsule of Night Renewing serum, dabbed it on my face, and then rubbed it in. I then put the lip renewing serum on my lips. It was around bedtime and so I went to bed. I could still feel a dampness on my face as I went to bed.

I woke up and my face still felt the same way. It was odd. It was obvious there was something still on my face. My face felt smooth but it felt dirty. It kept feeling like there wasn’t something on my face and that it wasn’t able to breathe. It was a feeling that didn’t go away until I washed my face. It bugged me.

My lips felt fabulous.

[Note: This was actually sitting in my drafts for about six months but I still stand by it.]

Orlando

It’s happened again. A guy got an assault rifle, drove a bunch of miles, and killed a bunch of people This time it was over 50 people in a gay bar in Orlando. Another 50 or so people were injured.

I’m sorry for the victims. I can’t even imagine. I can’t imagine a bunch of gay people in their safe space, dancing and chilling out having their brief utopia ruined by the actions of an angry man. I can’t imagine having to tip toe through bodies to try to find your friend, only to discover that friend is now a bloody body on the floor. I really can’t imagine.

As much as I would like everybody to love each other, I know that is a big ask. But I think it isn’t too much to ask for each person to realize that no matter how much you hate somebody, you are not justified in killing them. Other people aren’t put on this earth to make you comfortable. They are put here to live their own lives. Their lives, for the most part, are really none of your business. You can choose to be friends or choose not.

I’m not sure what the answer is really. Right now, people on the terror watch list can buy guns. RIght now, certain research on gun violence is banned. This research might have the ability to answer some of these questions that keep getting asked every time something like this happens.

But I don’t know. I am just one person looking from a distance. People are messy. Society is messy. This is just a big mess and I’m sorry.

Long live the purple reign

Be so good they can’t ignore you– Steve Martin

I grew up on Prince. Purple Rain came out in 1984. I was 11. You can do the math. Prince’s music was always with me. It will always be with me but the maker of this music is gone.

Prince was a myriad of contradictions. He was profoundly religious and extremely sexual. He was intensely private yet wrote some of the most soul baring songs ever to air. He had his own distinctive voice and never let anyone tell him who to be yet was one of the most popular artists of all time. He sang falsetto yet had a deep baritone speaking voice. He wore lace and high heels. He was black and white. His music was R and B, and blues but his guitar solos made a metalhead weep. His sexuality was diametrically opposed to the age of AIDS where sexuality was demonized. His lyrics shared the crap out of Tipper Gore. His songs were timeless and yet they will always be associated with the 80s.

Many people have died this year but this one is the one that reminds me that I am no longer young. This was my childhood icon and he is gone. My musical Santa Claus has been exposed and the magic is over. But what a gloriously fun magical time it was.

HO HO HOLIDAILIES

After a year hiatus, I am back on this thing. Thanks to the gentle nudging of Elizabeyth, here I am. Somehow I have agreed to do an entry a day for the rest of December. So this will be a kick in the pants for creativity and time management. GO ME.

I have opinions and sometimes I buy into the Southern gentility thing just a little too much and don’t necessarily express these opinions. I am slowly learning to say “fuck that noise” and yawp away.

I like to run (slowly) and have completed six (or is it seven) half marathons along with a hodge podge of other shorter distances. I belong to the Hot Legs running club and hope to participate in Grand Prix next year.

I have a cat. I like to read books. I think too much or sometimes, I don’t think enough. Veronica Mars is my spirit animal. I am a liberal in a very red state. I am at a cross roads for many things and am considering rebooting my life. It should be an interesting month.

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