This One Time at Supermodel Camp…

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I admit it. I’ve always had a secret desire to be a supermodel. Well, come on – who doesn’t? They get to travel all over the world and make scads of money to stand around and look bored while wearing fantastic clothes. And then when they’re not working, they pal around with rock stars and actors and go on talk shows to let us ordinary women know that the reason they look that way is due to good genes and they really can eat whatever they want and hate to exercise. If that’s not a charmed life, I don’t know what is.

Yesterday the women of “So then SHE said…” had our first photo shoot. And it was hard. We found some great locations and while our “vision” for the end result was spot on, the execution was a little tougher than expected. To smile or not to smile? (You look a little evil. OK, now too sad. Are you pissed? You look pissed.) What do I do with my hands? (Well, not THAT because now it looks like it’s growing out of your chin.) Standing? Sitting? (God, am I really that much shorter than you?) The lighting’s all wrong. (I agree. You can actually SEE us.) But on the upside, we got through it and even ended up with some pictures that while they may not grace the cover of “Cosmopolitan”, can be posted on our blog without causing us too much embarassment. After all, we think it’s important that you know who really writes this stuff…

One of my favorite characters from “The Incredibles” (yes, I know it’s a kids’ movie and I don’t CARE – it’s funny), Edna, has a great line about supermodels: “Nothing super about them… spoiled, stupid little stick figures with poofy lips who think only about themselves.” With respect to Edna, I now have to disagree. We’re not spoiled (we hauled our own equipment), don’t have poofy lips (Angelina Jolie has poofy lips and we don’t look like her) and don’t think just about ourselves (we even changed some locations to avoid bothering others with our supreme coolness). So what say you, modeling compadre? Next shoot in the Bahamas?

Kelly

Even if people wanted to look at us, we’d never make it in the modeling world because of how truly painful the act of being photographed was. I don’t understand how so many people can be relaxed and happy in front of a camera. I don’t know why I personally CAN’T be. (Try to look natural. No, not like that. Try looking up. No, that doesn’t help. Really, can’t you just look natural?) Models enjoy the camera’s attention and seeing images of themselves. We are self-conscious but would much rather get attention for our message or literary delivery, or other creative expression. That being said, I can’t keep using a photo of my cat as my image. A cat avatar says something about me–maybe something true, but not the message I want to send to the world.

I love Edna Mole. I quote her frequently.

We are super (in our own special way,) we are models (in the sense that there are pictures of us available for use in media.) Let’s leave it at that. Except that I want to share one shot of us that we captured as we explored the webcam possibility that I think really captured the essence of our striving...

Lynnette

Look! I'm 'Arry Potter!

Lost and Found

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I am losing my mind. I can’t find my driver’s license, the raincoat I’ve been looking for for weeks turned up out of the blue on top of a basket of shoes I moved just a few days ago, a pair of black capris are also missing…what the heck is going on? I’m the one who usually knows where stuff is, not the one blindsided by things winking in and out of this universe randomly. Maybe my son’s homework really was just disappearing between home and classroom, like he said. Do you see how this is causing me to doubt myself? My face hurts from the perplexed wrinkle between my eyebrows I have been sporting all day, and my mental processes feel like they are slogging through warm used chewing gum. I can’t keep compulsively checking the same places for the missing items, and there are no new places to look. I think I will go teach my older son to parallel park (because THAT will be relaxing,) and maybe while I’m gone the same wormhole my raincoat traveled through will bring back my license and my pants. Magic thinking. Have you got any better ideas?

Lynnette

Let’s assume for the sake of argument that you wore the black capris to the liquor store to pick up a bottle of wine. Being the youthful-looking sprite that you are, you confidently stuck your driver’s license in your pants pocket in anticipation of being carded. While you were there, you ran into your friend Jane who complimented you on how flattering those black capris were and after the appropriate amount of sucking up, she casually asked if she could borrow them for a function she had to go to the following afternoon. Of course, you replied, but I don’t know that I’ll have time to wash them first because when I drink wine, I don’t feel like doing laundry. Not a problem, she said. If you can drop them by my house, I’ll wash them myself. By this time, you’re at the checkout and the clerk is waiting impatiently to peruse your driver’s license which you hand over while remarking to Jane that the black capris will be in her mailbox when she gets home. You rush home, change clothes, fold the capris (which still have your driver’s license in the pocket) and walk them four houses up the street to Jane’s house where you stuff them in the aforementioned mailbox. She washes them and wears them to her event, garnering compliments from everyone she runs into. So, where’s your stuff? Your driver’s license is in the bottom of Jane’s dryer where it landed after falling out of the pocket. And your capris are hanging in Jane’s closet because after getting all that positive attention for wearing them, there’s no way in hell she’s giving them back to you. See, that wasn’t so hard, was it? And there are always new places to look.

Handy Tip for Teaching Parallel Parking: Take your car and your husband’s car and park them at the curb in front of your house with just enough space in between for your son’s car with about six inches leeway, front or back. Then make him practice parallel parking in between them, letting him know that if he hits either car, he will not only be grounded for life but will have to pay for all damages out of his own pocket. That’s how I learned how to parallel park, and trust me, it works. I can fit my vehicle into parking spaces that require a shoe horn to get it out. It may take me 20 minutes and a lot of backing and forthing to do it, but I can do it. Let us know how it works out, O.K.?

Kelly

I Know I Can’t Dance

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I am watching “So You Think You Can Dance.” I love that show. All day people have been asking me, “Are you limping?” because I’m hobbling around recovering from an energetic session of Kettlebell. Even on a normal day I am a stiff, inflexible, uncoordinated (but strong!) lump of flesh. I love seeing the strong, limber, lyrical movement these people manage while defeating gravity and staying charming to boot. I am not a big fan of reality TV, but I am a fan of this show, the dancers, Kat the host, and the judges (even if we do fast forward sometimes through the commentary because we are all about the performances, not the judging.) When I take Zumba classes (and I do almost every week–I am ridiculous, but it is FUN) I keep my eyes on the instructor because she is amazing and cute and every move has attitude and life and as long as I am watching her, I am moving just like her (in my mind, anyway.) I learned a long time ago to avoid looking in the mirror and all will be well. There are times when being a fan surpasses being a participant, and there are times when there is some crossover. Then of course, there are times when you have to get out there and bring it, all yourself, even if it is on paper or a digital page and not onstage. What are you watching?

Lynnette

I’m watching reality fare of a different sort – “Ghosthunters International” which is one of a very few shows I always try to catch when I can.  I’ve watched the “Ghosthunters” series (both domestic and international) since they began and while I sometimes question their evidence and the banter can be annoying, I’m always hopeful they find something really, well, COOL. I’m waiting for the day when they ask the fateful question “Can you please give us some sign that you’re here?” and the spirit either cuffs them a good one across the head or growls in a James-Earl-Jones-with-a-head-cold voice “Can you hear me NOW?!?” Now THAT would be some evidence, eh?  This ghosthunter thing goes back to an internship I did for a Rapid City radio station the summer I turned 20 (yeah, five years ago – HA!). That summer I had the great opportunity to interview and spectre search with a real ghosthunter who coincidentally was from New Hampshire (the “Ghosthunter” TV guys are from Rhode Island).  It was a lot of fun and a little creepy and while it didn’t make me a total believer it made me more respectful of the unknown.

I’ve seen the dance show you mentioned. I’ve never watched a whole episode; it just makes me miss dancing. Not to brag, but I know I can dance – after 10 years of dance lessons as a kid, I better have some moves, albeit a bit outdated now, I’m sure.  But after three broken ankles (no, that’s not impossible even though the math doesn’t seem to work out), I’m mainly a wallflower these days. But that just gives me more time to watch for ghosts…who probably can’t dance.

Kelly

Ghosty-girl, you need to read the Greywalker series by Kat Richardson. I like (almost love) her books. They are a guilty pleasure I can publicly own. Enough said on that except to mention that I have had some ghostly encounters of my own. I think. If it was obvious it would be on youtube or Ghost Hunters, but while I expected to have some claustrophobic, emotional, vertiginous reaction to a concentration camp in Austria and a funeral home in South Dakota, I certainly did not expect it on the USS Midway in San Diego or an old Methodist Church in Minneapolis.  I think I was picking up some unquiet spirits, although my own true love would really rather I kept that sort of talk under wraps. Hee, hee! Good thing he doesn’t read my blogs! Love!

Lynnette

Don’t think I’ve ever read any of her stuff so I’ll have to check it out.  On the ghostly experiences, churches would be rife with spirits – think of all the funerals. And I don’t know what it is about boats, but I had the creeps on the Queen Mary in Long Beach and there were some eerie moments when we went to the Titanic exhibit (which was fantastic, by the way).  Open minds, that’s all it takes. So we can’t count on him as a subscriber?!?

Kelly

Chocolate and Wine

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I have to warn you, friend: 45 is turning out to be kind of a tricky age. I didn’t think it would be when I hit it a couple of weeks ago, but it is. When it’s your turn the end of this month, beware of people who feel the need to constantly remind you that you’re only “five years away from 50”. Oh, the horror of it all! That only leads me to wonder what’s supposed to happen when I turn 50? I envision it to be something fantastic like I win the lottery, move to Europe, become a world-famous author and discover that you really can lose 50 pounds on the Chocolate-and-Wine diet. So if it turns out to be something less than that, I may be disappointed.

Kelly

Forty-five? Hah! I laugh at forty-five. And fifty. Generally speaking, aging is better than the alternative, right? I have a friend who just turned fifty this week, and as I told her, she makes fifty look like the new thirty-five. I could just admire her beauty and energy but there is a bit of aggravation that she sets the bar so darn high. My thirties were WAY better than I expected, and the forties started out rough but my youngest graduated middle school this week ending five years of hell (counting both boys’ time there,) and I am really looking forward to the next stage. I don’t know about you, but I’m smarter, more confident, further on my writing, and less apt to take crap than I was five years ago. I might be a bit more delicate in the joints and digestion and daily grow closer to death, but before we completely fall apart I like to think there might be grand adventure and published books with our names on them in our futures. The Chocolate-and-Wine Diet? I’m already on that, I didn’t know it had a name.

Lynnette

Oh, you won’t see it called that on an infomercial but that’s what the clerk at the Quik Shop says it is. Unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be any documentation on how much of which you should have when so you have to figure out the portion sizes on your own. I’m up for adventure if you are – I’ve got both annual leave and gas money to burn.

Kelly