General

Happy All Hollow’s Eve! It used to be my favorite holiday, but that was before I worked three Halloweens in a Costume shop. Now I hate Halloween. I hate dressing up (as something other than myself – I often look weird, but never intentionally). The sight of grease paint brings back memories of standing at a counter and telling people we were out of cheap fake blood (because they waited ’till 6:30 pm on Halloween to buy it) and explaining I wasn’t trying to rip them off by pointing out the remaining expensive option. If you’ve studied fashion history and you’re anal-retentive about era costumes needing to look right (or anal-retentive in general) never work in a costume shop. Maid Marian would never have worn a 1970’s sack dress (the ones with a high waist line, usually made in shades of brown, trimmed with ribbons, with string lacing up the front and then tying at the back into a bow over a zipper), but try telling that to someone who thinks it makes a great Maid Marion costume.

The worst days were filled with people who didn’t know what they wanted to be for Halloween. After spending twenty or more minutes asking questions and offering a plethora of unique costume experiences (I’m an ideas person. Mention a problem and I’ll give you solutions whether you want them or not). Of course the customer would then decide to go as a native American Indian or a nun (if there were any nun costumes left). If I end up in Hell I’ll doubtless find myself in a vast costume shop where I’m working behind the counter. The ladders to reach the mask displays will be a mile high. I’ll be stuck wearing a badly fitting vomit-pink mini dress and all the male customers will want to try on the masks at the top…one after the other…to the sound of snorting laughter… (I try to be good!) [Read more…] about Ghost stories…

Today I’ve lived in England for thirteen years and in a few weeks we’ll have our thirteenth wedding anniversary. It seems strange that so much time could have passed, but you know what they say about having fun.

OK, it hasn’t been all fun (that first year was like falling down the rabbit hole and landing on my head), but overall it has been more than fun…it’s been a dream come true. I adore my Goblin even more than when I married him. He’s become my best friend (though if I want to talk about dead Frenchmen I have to torture someone else as he can’t bear it. His eyes roll back into his head and he goes into a coma). He’s my hero; if I’m in pain he can hold me in his arms and it really does make me feel better. I don’t think there’s been a single day in thirteen years we haven’t laughed together; even on the days we struggled to communicate ie had the odd argument. Being realistic, there must have been days I wanted to chuck a pan at his head and run away back to the States, I just can’t remember them. To be fair I can be very annoying (without even trying); there must have been days he longed to shove me onto the next plane to Chicago in the hope I’d get lost in the airport, but here we are thirteen years later still making each other laugh.

This past week and a half we’ve both been ill, fighting off a really nasty cold. True love is when you feel like death, but you make a trip down to the kitchen to get your sick Goblin a glass of water and a choc-ice because he’s burning with fever. True love is when your Goblin holds you even though you have snot all over your face because he knows it’ll make you feel better. Life isn’t always what we think it should be, but as I learn to cherish each day (I’m one of those people who expect the worst thing imaginable to happen any moment) I find it’s usually better than anything I could have made up.

I have this memory of being about three or four and sitting on the floor listening to records on a small cheap record player (records that had belonged to my mother when she was a small child). The records were small, only one song per side, and pressed from clear plastic in bright pretty colours. One of my favorite was The Little White Duck. I believe the version was the one by Burl Ives made in the mid fifties. Whenever I think of the song I can almost feel summer sunlight from that long ago day coming in the open door. On a whim I looked it up on itunes and there it was. I had to buy it! While I was looking around I found two other songs by Burl Ives that you can’t hear and not want to dance. If you’re feeling low or need a reason to get out of bed, I recommend The Donut Song! “…as you go through life make this your goal…watch the donut not the hole!” If that doesn’t make you dance try The Ugly Bug Ball. I dare you to listen to it all the way through…and then again and NOT start dancing. These are supposedly children songs, but they’re so clever. The Ugly Bug Ball somehow encapsulates the fifties…the musical refrain is genius. It brought to mind movies of fifty poser-philosophy students dressed in black berets (though this could be a personal psychosis). You know what I’ll be doing tomorrow (when I’m not writing)…cha cha cha…spin…wave arms singing along…who cares how dumb I look…no one can see…cha cha cha…spin…don’t pull a muscle…cha cha cha…I think I feel like reading some philosphy…cha cha cha…spin again…wave the arms some more…love it!

Now I really need to go to bed…if I can stop dancing…

I’m one of those people who if walking or riding in a car after dark, will compulsively stare into strangers windows. If the curtains aren’t drawn and there’s light shining out of it, I will peer in as I pass. I never stop, that would be creepy, but I turn my head and wonder who lives there and how they can stand the colour on their walls, mentally rearrange their furniture or marvel at the loveliness of the decor. Randomly trawling through the blog-o-sphere, as I was just doing, has the same feeling of peering into people’s windows except instead of getting a glimpse of someone’s life you see them metaphorically dancing naked to their latest favorite song. You can’t be sure if they’re exercising or knowingly flaunting themselves in the hope some nut case stares into the window and sees them. I wonder how many people stare into my blog-window and think, “I’m glad I don’t live next door to her.”?
[Read more…] about Behind curtain number…