ain’t no easy way to repot a cactus.

pack rat

what is the worst thing for a hoarder and a procrastinator? 

i’ll tell ya. 

it’s moving. packing. ugh.

i’m considering a move.

i’ve never been one for inspirational quotes or motivational quotes or posters with motivational quotes or whatever. in fact they bug me. unless they make me laugh. but sometimes you happen upon something that sticks in your craw. and part of this was a craw sticker. 

“if you do not move forward, you’ll always be in the same place.”

and that’s me, folks.

deep, right?

i am stuck. 

i am oh so stuck. and i KNOW changes need to be made. i know for a fact i cannot stay in this job where i am currently. it’s killing me. mentally and physically. mostly mentally. 

and i know i can’t keep living in a ghetto my entire life.

so i’m quietly planning an escape. 

and that means packing. and i’ve got a LOT of stuff. 

so i’ll be taking a time-out for a while so i can pack.

in addition to packing and moving, i’ve got weddings and graduations (out of state) to attend. and a first aid/CPR course to take so i can get my massage license in another state. i’m gonna be a’busy. 

and the kicker is, i don’t really have a solid plan. i have a quasi-plan. and that half-baked plan changes pretty much daily. 

but man, i gotta do something

so look for me to start posting again sometime at the end of may-ish/june-ish if the move doesn’t kill me.

(all those coffee mugs in top photo are now packed away…it’s a start…)

(and that other photo is me wearing a thrifted woolrich nordic snowflake sweater.)

i will certainly miss the thrifting in these parts. i am centrally located to some pretty good stores now. where i’m going, who knows?  if there’s no thrifting action where i land, there will always be garage sales, right?  and like i’ve mentioned before, i don’t really need anything.   at all.

and so til we meet again, i’ll be up to my eyeballs in newspaper and bubblewrap. catch ya later….

computer down

computer is busted and i’m pretty sure it’s terminal.  things will be quiet while i either fix the one i’ve got or buy a new one.  (i’m on a friend’s computer now.)

it’s always something.


the shovel is my new boyfriend.

i haven’t held anyone or anything in my arms as long as i’ve held this shovel in years.

it’s gonna be a long winter.


i get my daily horoscope delivered to me via email every morning and i view them as gospel.

yesterday’s was telling:

You will have to demonstrate your endurance today, Kimberly. Much is required of you, and you have no choice but to make the contribution expected of you. There’s no way around it: you are a key player in the events swirling around you.

let’s face it.  i don’t get out much anymore.  i’m practically a shut-in.

the day before, however, an old friend of mine and i were emailing back and forth.  her 14 year old daughter wanted to participate in some MTV dance contest being held near boston.  she wanted to know if i wanted to join them.  “sure,” i said, “it’ll do me good to get out of the house.” 

then came the email, “would you mind driving?” 

“uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh” was the thought bubble above my head. 

lemme just say this – i’ve driven everywhere.  by myself.  back and forth cross country 8 times, sometimes driving a u-haul truck with a trailer carrying my car.  back before cell phones.  before mapquest.  before the GPS.  alone.  when you had to read maps.  i’ve been stranded on a pennsylvania turnpike with a flat tire.  by myself.  no cell phone!!!  sleeping in rest areas.  by myself.  i could go on and on, but let’s just say i’m a seasoned driver. 

but where is the worst place to drive?  boston.  it just is.  (ok, well maybe NYC, but i’ve never driven there, i’ve taken the train, i’m no fool.)  boston doesn’t make sense.  people really do drive like maniacs.  there’s horn blowing.  there’s red light running.  there’s weaving in and out of traffic.  there are gobs of one-way streets.  if you don’t know the area, it’s brutal. 

“you want ME to drive?  ME?  to boston?  boston?”

“sure.  i’ll do it.” 

far be it for me to crush the dreams of a 14 year old.  i couldn’t handle that kind of disappointment on my shoulders.

and so, saturday morning i read the above horoscope before the trek to unchartered cambridge, MA.  my gawd, the pressure.  people were depending on me.  relying on me.  i was “a key player in the events swirling around me” for gawd’s sake.  i’m not used to this.  people don’t depend on me.  i only take care of myself.     

i’d like to say we got there without a hitch.  but there was just one missed turn, just one, and that put us knee-deep in some downtown madness i had hoped to avoid.  not to mention there was some sporting event taking place that day with road closures and detours.  what?   thanks to a friendly bus driver at a red light whose attention i caught by flailing my arms, we were able to get pointed in the right direction and make it to our destination.

and i’ll be darned if that 14 year old didn’t take home the prize.  $300 buckeroos and a VIP screening to the opening of “burlesque” with 10 of her closest friends.  and a chance to win $5000 competing against all the other city winners. 

ashli dancing her ass off   


i gotta rest now.  that kind of pressure was exhausting.

that kid better mention me in her acceptance speech when she wins her first tony.   forget her mom who’s carted her to years and years of dance lessons.  let’s thank that lady who got her to her first contest and put $300 in her back pocket.  let’s thank that key player.

still here.

my little car is all better.  free of dents.  

had to give up the loaner pimp ride.

they told me i was getting a compact car.

i felt ridiculous driving this thing, but it did have good pick up and stellar air conditioning. 

not much going on. 

trying to ease back into sewing…

more later. 

yay.  we’re in the midst of another heatwave.  i need to plop in front of a fan and pop open an ice cold seltzer and burp a lot.

little things

it has long been an axiom of mine that the little things are infinitely the most important.”sir arthur conan doyle

i received an envelope in the mail the other day from a complete stranger (long story.)  the envelope was handmade and machine sewn.  there was a handwritten note inside along with some stickers and decals. 

details.  people who pay attention to details.  it’s why i love crafters and creative people.  i understand that time is precious to folks, and so for a person (who runs a business while juggling a family) to take the time to sew an envelope and fancy-write a note to me takes the cake.

this is the sh*t i live for.


i’m attempting to add a little “springtime” to the outdoor porch now that the weather has warmed up a little, although last night we actually had record low temps.  freeze warnings.  i kept my newly purchased herbs indoors overnight and thankfully didn’t kill them dead in less than a few hours. 

cilantro to add to my store-bought salsa in a jar.  mint for all kinds of summertime cocktails.  lavender to calm my nerves.  and parsley, oregano and basil just because.  i’m not really a cook, but i have used parsley for bean dips, so can foresee using that.  i’ll throw the oregano and basil into my daily rice pasta dishes cuz lord knows it could use some spicing up. 

my only concern is the wild critters that roam the ‘hood.  if i come outside and the squirrels and cats are whoopin’ it up with an afternoon fiesta, i’m gonna be mad.  or heaven forbid, using the pots “to mark their territory.”  gross.


when the trees are in bloom and the vintage plastic bicycle baskets are in bloom, it almost makes the ghetto where i live look a little less ghetto and a little more pretty.

special happy birthday wishes going out today to my friend missy from 3rd grade who is the first in my little childhood ‘hood to turn 50.  yikes.  i’d give anything to have a picture of us back then and i just don’t.  rats.

last day

today is my last day of work.

i will share one (of a gazillion) little stories i’ve had working at the casino.

just about this time last year, st. patrick’s day weekend, i massaged a woman named eileen.  eileen stood about 4 feet tall.

our clients are given a form to fill out where they can list areas of concentration they’d like to focus on when receiving a massage.  if this is left blank, as it was in eileen’s case, when i come back into the room after they’ve gotten onto the table, i’ll usually say something to the effect of,

“so – no particular areas of tension or soreness?”

now, most people will say, “oh, my low back always gives me trouble,” or “my neck and shoulders bother me,” or “i love to have my feet massaged.”  stuff like that.

eileen says to me, “well, yes indeed, i’ve got some awful bloating in my stomach from all that corned beef and cabbage i’ve been eating…you know how THAT goes.”

to which i responded, “wait a minute, are you a leprechaun?”

and eileen said, “oh dear, don’t be silly, there’s no such thing as a lady leprechaun.”

i learned something new there every day.  leprechauns are only men.

eileen was just a short irish woman with gas.