to desire the replica

posted by: Kim
posted on: September 28th, 2010

My lovely friend Phaedra recently put up a post about feeling like an utter piece of crap only to have a random stranger say just the right thing at just the right time. A simple gesture that at any given time can mean the world. Or the difference between wanting to kick and scream and break shit vs. feeling like it just might be ok one day soon.

That post got me thinking about those times that this has happened to me. The small kindness, unexpected and unasked for, that takes you from where you were and puts you somewhere better. I am lucky enough to say that I have experienced a few and each and every time it almost stops my usual misanthropic outlook on the masses of people that swirl anonymously around me. I am going to list three of them here because it may remind us all that just a little bit can be an awful lot. I’m also listing them here because it’s my fucking blog and I can do whatever I want. You’re not the boss of me!

Sorry. I digress. Sometimes the bitch just leaks out even when I’m posting about unicorns and glitter and toilet paper commercial kittens. Ok, on to the glitter…

#1- I was laying on the grass enjoying a book and the sunshine in a local park. Suddenly a hand drops a flower beside my book and I cringe, waiting for the inevitable “Whattcha reading?” What he said was “It’s a beautiful day” and then just kept on walking.

#2-The quiet smiling cafe owner in Barcelona who put my lukewarm water bottle in her fridge to cool and sent her son down the street to locate the hostel I had been searching for in vain -in the blistering heat- for hours.

And my personal favorite;

#3- As teens we skipped school and went for coffee at “Lena’s” on a pretty regular basis. There would be several of us and we would sit drinking our free refill and shredding sugar packages for hours and usually have just enough to cover the bill. They definitely didn’t make any money on us. I remember skipping a class and heading over to Lena’s alone one day. My server was our usual, a rather tired looking middle aged woman who always made me think of my single mom struggling to make ends meet, and I sat there for a while sipping slowly, knowing I only had enough money for 1 coffee and it’s customary top up. She came over and gave me an extra refill and called me “Sugar.” For some reason, just the way she called me that- this snot nosed non-tipping teenager- almost made me cry. I remember feeling terrible that I couldn’t leave her a tip when I left and I think she knew. She smiled at me and said “hope to see you soon”  and I honestly think she meant it. That waitress all those years ago is the reason that I still use endearments like honey or sweetheart with friends and strangers alike. I remember how warm it made me feel.

So how about we all go out and try to make someone feel warm tomorrow? And if anyone says “Pay it forward” I’ll kick them right in the teeth. I fucking hate that phrase. La la la, happy happy unicorns and glitter.

posted by: Kim
posted on: September 26th, 2010

Well, it official.

I’ve got me some damn fine boobs. Ok, Ok, I do have to go back every 6 months, but at this point in time I’ve got a grade AA medically approved rack.

Ok, you can all go back to what you were doing now. There’s nothing to see here except a chick in a really low and tight Mad-Men worthy sweater.

**enter large sigh of relief here**

posted by: Kim
posted on: September 23rd, 2010

(or “Holy crap did we have a wet fucking summer!”)

posted by: Kim
posted on: September 16th, 2010

Firstly- I’d like to add the disclaimer that I’m writing this after a few glasses of wine…….

So you remember my porn mammogram? It’s the post right below jackass, read it. Well, I checked my cell as I was walking home at 4:06 pm and I have a call from “Special Procedures for mammography” with a request to please make an appointment. Their office closes at 4pm.

Are you fucking serious?

I’m not normally a “worrier” because I’m pretty much pragmatic right to the bone. I mean it- I’m the type of person that would be making sure that there was a solid vegetarian option at my own fucking funeral. I’m a thinker, a planner and a doer. What I’m not is a worrier, a freaker or a panic stricken delicate flower. (You can confirm this with the ex that watched me squash a giant pack rat with a Louisville slugger on the back deck during a bad invasion at the ranch.) However, given the fact that I had a full (benign) lumpectomy in my 20’s I’m a bit “on edge.” (Hence the wine? No, forget it. The wine is normal.)

My theory is that my boobs are so fantastic that they’re flying in the likes of Brad Pitt, George Clooney and John Malkovich (shut up! I LOVE HIM!) to check them out. (really- I have pretty fabulous boobs. I’m not being vain, I just got lucky that at 40 they still stand up like brand new military recruits and smile at the crowd. They’re the type of boobs that would buy you flowers AND call you the next day. My boobs could run for office.) I’d post pictures but my husband would probably get an annulment.

So….. basically, I’m in limbo until office hours tomorrow. If I knew the address of the lady that called me I’d be there booking my appointment right now.

I’m just gonna go with the Hollywood viewing theory. It works for me.

Fuck is my husband gonna be mad when those guys show up. Such is the life of a man crazy enough to marry me………..

posted by: Kim
posted on: September 15th, 2010

Despite my normal OCD tendencies to over think and over plan for everything, every once in a while I get caught *gasp* unprepared.

So I go in for a mammogram yesterday (shut up assholes- Don’t you watch Cougar town? 40 is the new 20!) I check in and get led to the private waiting room where you take off your bra, shove it in your purse like a bad high school date, put your shirt back on and then wait patiently with a whole bunch of other bra-less women to have your boobs squished between two pieces of Plexiglas.

I get called in and I’m standing in front of the mashing contraption when it hits me. Today was probably not the best day to have worn a dress to work. She laughs and tells me that it happens all the time. So I pull off the dress and a few minutes later as a strange woman is fondling my breasts while I stand there in nothing but a black thong and a green lead apron, I say to her;

“Is it just me or does this feel a little like porn right now?”

She looks me straight in the eye and says “Yeah. A little bit. But weird porn.

posted by: Kim
posted on: September 10th, 2010

Big thanks again to Kathryn @ Owen Imaging. This was our day…….

posted by: Kim
posted on: September 8th, 2010

So as a freshly married couple, how does one go about impressing their new spouse? Well, if you’re married to me, obviously you politely ignore the crazy while it slowly leaks out. Also, this is an excellent idea;

After a ridiculously yummy and filling feast of Chinese take out and you’re reclining on the couch, full belly and perfectly content, you manage to restrain your utter shock and horror when your freshly minted wife spins around her laptop and yells;

“Oh my fucking god! Look at this retro couch! It’s in that antique shop we stopped at on Friday and it’s in mint fucking condition and on SALE! And it has a CHAISE LOUNGE!

I. Must. Have. It. NOW.

(Keep in mind that the antique store is in a village 45 minutes away and though it’s 8pm I know that the owner lives right above and loves to make a sale.)

You impress your brand new wife by turning your head to hide the fact that you’re rolling your eyes, borrow a truck, drive her out to buy it right then and there, haul it home, unload it, realize the old couch won’t fit where she was planning on putting it so you load it into the truck and drive it to your office where it can be safely stored as she loves it at refuses to get rid of it (please don’t even think about wondering why I just replaced a couch that I love. This one has a CHAISE!) and then you come home and kiss her and still love her as you watch her hum happily while rearranging the living room.

Score.

posted by: Kim
posted on: September 4th, 2010

It rained all week and then on Thursday it was sunny and beautiful and perfect for a secret wedding beside the river.

Yes, that’s right folks. Steve and I got hitched.

Susin, Stan, and baby Gray came down and we chugged bubbly right from the bottle and laughed and ran on the beach and then we all said some words and then used Stan’s back to sign some papers and WHAM! We’re married! Once we get our photos back from our fantastic photographer Kathryn I shall post more than anyone cares to see.

Now here’s where the fun begins. The wedding was a secret so the next step is to tell the families. My crazy hippy folks will laugh and think that it was a “lovely” idea.

Steve’s family? Apparently his sisters and father will be amused for the most part. His mom? Uhm. Not so sure. There was no mention of God during the ceremony (though oddly enough, one Elvis quote) we didn’t get married in a church, I have tattoos and snuck away with her first born so chances are that our newly minted mother-in-law/daughter-in-law relationship has started off on the wrong foot. Like a mangled and bleeding foot that’s broken in 17 or 18 places. And maybe has a touch of the gangrene.

Oh, did I mention that they haven’t even met me yet?

We’re going out to the east coast in October so that they can meet the “surprise wife” and I’m hoping that she has had sufficient time between now and then to digest the news. In our defense, introducing my parents (think Simon & Garfunkel with a tray of hash brownies) to his rather conservative god fearing ones really was just something we felt should probably never happen. We’ll use the travel distance of east coast vs. west coast as an excuse………..

So there you have it. My big news, my big day. It was beautiful and I am thrilled and in true Kim fashion, though I am taking his name, I don’t even have to change my initials or signature. It’s still an H followed by an illegible squiggle.

I love when shit works out like that.

I now have a husband. I am now someones wife.