Where Seclusion and Gaudiness Meet

"The Blue Room" often plays on my internal AM Radio. The algebra of secluded hideaway+ secret life with cherished loved one+garish monochromatic decorating+Rogers & Hart jazz standard= stuck in my head since 1998. I like the concepts. I like the tune. Had I but known that the blue room, blue rooms, even, existed I would have taken my sentimental ass to the Madonna Inn long ago. Trip slated for winter 2k9. How excited am I?




all pictures by Phyllis Madonna, from the Madonna Inn site.

High School Rehashbrowns

I'm going to go see High School Music 3. I haven't even seen the first two, but I think Zac Efron must be emitting yet unheard-of tele-pheromones, against which I'm powerless. Tie me to the mast so that I cannot heed his siren song! Incidentally, that siren song is about winning at basketball.

Picture Provided By: TeenIdols4You.com
High school has been on my mind lately, probably because:
1. People I know from high school have been hanging out with me, and it's been nice/sometimes I hang out with people who might be in high school, and it's been... I'm old.
2. The tentative flirtations exchanged with my math teacher during that time continue to eclipse the emotional intensity experienced in any of my actual romances.
3. My interactions with friends have been colored by an uncharacteristic unwillingness to be forthcoming, and my communication has taken the least-forward form modernity has to offer-- texting. Hey, I'm just fearing rejection(s) and savoring that high school flavor! (Tastes weirdly like caffeinated mints).

Dyspeptic Daughters of the Golden Fried West

I looked into joining the fraternal organization The Native Sons and Daughters of the Golden West, because I'm a 7th generation Californian. I took a peek at the group picture of my local chapter, only to find about 20 overweight, middle-aged, dyspeptic-looking women in voluminous hairdos looking like they should belong to a club called Hometown Buffet and Applebees Enthusiasts of The Golden West. I'm not sure what I was expecting to find-- either something younger and hipper or, on the opposite end of the spectrum, women in prairie dresses and blue bonnets, having freshly escaped from some kind of Mormon sect. I don't need to join--the spirit of the pioneers manifests itself in my restlessness and wanderlust. I hear the El Camino Real bell ringing in my ears! The trains rattle my house at night and I feel I must go! Sometimes my grandpa gets up from the dinner table and inexplicably says, "Last of the frontier" as his parting remark!

Additionally, I just broke my cassette player listening to The Sons of the Pioneers tape. Outdated technology... last of the frontier...

Recession Romance 2k8

I'm pretty sure the number of eggs I consumed today exceeded six. The weather's changing, so that means the same Danish clogs, but with the diabetes socks (bunching, as they do, at the ankles), and scarves over 2006's most threadbare shirts. Despite the cooling temperature, I seem to be developing what could only be called a sweating problem with accompanying smell problem (like pine-scented solvent meets carne asada).

And yet, I've never been more on top of my game. I'm just gonna kick back in my pajamas that double as evening wear with a Garfield anthology and a mug with my astrological sign on it and let the popularity roll on in.