September 28, 2018

The Math Comes Out To Be Ephemily +1

"How did you manage to get ahold of a loan officer at 9:30 at night on a Thursday?"

The question came in over text, so I couldn't tell the degree of incredulousness in Loverboy's tone.

"I dunno.  I know people, and for some reason, they seem to like me."

That was late August of 2018.  And that's all it took to refinance my house.  Well, ok.  Obviously there was more than that.  But the hassle of shopping around for the right company, the reasonable rates, the type of loan that fits my needs, reflected my well earned 823 FICO score, and the right team to work with was quite simple, actually. 

June 9, 2018

You Stand, I Stand

"Welp, I think we found our woo girl."

I didn't so much whisper as I did direct a targeted cone of sound at Loverboy's ear as the target of my ire was sitting just to his left.  The concert was in full swing by then.  We'd just taken our seats, and the group of women next to us were immersed in the experience up to their eyeballs.

April 19, 2018

Evolutionary Idiocy & Distance Predation

I think I know why the intelligent among us are not running the world.  It's because humans are distance predators.

Stick with me.

March 30, 2018

Float On, Tiny Attention Span

I packed a lunch this morning.  I resisted the urge to grab that second fiber cookie because, lemon bar flavor doesn't trump the consequences of those actions.

I set the lunch on my dining room table, grabbed my keys, verified my badge was on my person, and picked up and put down three coats that I opted not to wear today.  In that brief moment, my goldfish memory blanked the existence of my lunch from existence.  (My photo is next to the term Tabula Rasa in the dictionary.)

February 12, 2018

Ephemily's Reluctant Timeshare. Living In Your Head, Rent Free

Social experiments are an interest of mine.  I enjoy crawling through data to see what I can get them to tell me.  I'm also a fan of what I like to call, The Long Game.

February 9, 2018

In Search Of A Karmic Travel Agent

Dirk Gently has his Holistic Detective Agency, but what I really want to find is a Karmic Travel Agent.

This last week has been odd.  And that's the short description.  A true breakdown of a string of 5 days where you're sent a pneumatic sex toy by an anonymous admirer deserves more than a single syllable, but that's for another time.

I have had a day from hell.  I started out by considering it a pothole day; the sort where you're derailed for 24 hours, lick your wounds, and start over after a good meal and a night's sleep.  And then, as always, it got weird.

January 31, 2018

From The Heart - Robe Sleeves, Privlidge, And A Week In Mexico.

I need to show you something. I wanted to sit on the balcony on a particularly brisk morning during my vacation last week, and decided to take advantage of the robe hanging in the closet. As I started to untie the belt and remove it from the hanger, I noticed that the right arm was tucked in such a way as to give it the appearance of saluting, with the hand over the heart.  I wrote the following from said balcony as a reflection of the experiences I've had in Mexico and at the Vidanta resort:

January 26, 2018

The Necessity of "Goodbye, Paradise."

The last of my pesos are sitting on the vanity, next to my winter coat which was begrudgingly pulled from the closet. I have utilized katana space, bargained with deities, and conjured my inner Tetris playing 90s kid to close and lock my suitcase. I'm dressed in layers so I can slowly remind myself what it's like to be cold.

January 25, 2018

The Boldest Print

Something I learned from walking around in a bathing suit, half skirt, and sheer, knee length cover up during the day - I'm not the smallest on the resort. I'm not the most ideally proportioned, or conventionally beautiful. I'm thick, jiggly in the middle, and small breasted, to tell the unvarnished truth.

January 23, 2018

Comedic Timing. Or, How I Learned To Love The Pain And Support The Toaster

I need to monetize my dad's sense of comedic timing.  Not the one that he *thinks* he has.  You know, the one that has me apologizing to waiters the world over.  I'm talking the one he doesn't realize he’s got, but would make him the perfect character in a slapstick comedy.

I’ve been on vacation with my folks for 4 or so days now.

Yesterday, I listened to my folks, both in their mid 70s, argue for half an hour over how to use the microwave.  My dad wanted to warm his muffin just enough to melt a pat of butter from the stick left in the fridge overnight.  If he’d have left the butter on the countertop for the same amount of time. . .   But, I digress.