Posts Tagged ‘going commando’

Electricity was restored to our house last night at 1 am. Such relief I feel, oy! Can I get an “AMEN?”

Going commando update:

I realize that my attempt at fitting things into the category of going commando was fraught with false turns. It began to sound more like a Thankful Thursday than a post about underwear and nakedness. But it reminded me of a great story my mother tells from her childhood.

My mother grew up in Germany during the war. Her father had some relative–an aunt, a grandmother, a sister–I don’t really know and have never gotten the detail right on this–who had a farm away from the little Medieval town where my mother lived with her parents. They would send my mother to get fattened up because they had no food during the war. Rationing and what not.

My mother was particularly impressed with the woman at the farm. This woman, my mother says, was the hardest-working person she has ever met or seen. My mother has a memory of the woman working in the fields and lifting her skirt, squatting to pee and going back to her work. Lifting her skirt, no pulling down of any undergarments, squatting, peeing, and moving on. Almost like the women who work in the fields, squat to birth a baby, wrap it up, and keep working, the rhythm uninterrupted. How do they cut the cord? Where does the placenta go? Probably just hack it with a scythe and let it fall to fertilize the soil. Totally commando. Wow.

Two Peasant Women in the Peat Fields, Vincent Van Gogh, 1883

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It’s a funny phrase, methinks, and though not in my word-vernacular, it was a practice of a friend of mine in high school; not quite clear any more which friend because, you see, by 11th Grade I was drinking and smoking a lot of pot. If it’s the friend I think, she was already a senior. Figures.

Maybe alcohol is a gateway drug to losing your need for skivvies.

For you men who’ve never worn a hippie-skirt at a Grateful Dead concert with the opportunity to be bare underneath, I can say you are missing out, at least from this twinkly’s perspective.

It does remind me of my love for a man in a kilt. I’m getting weak just thinking about it. Maybe time for my Big Blue coffee drink to stave off this light-headedness.

That’s better. I’m no longer falling off my chair.

I just think it’s a funny way to describe not wearing underwear. Unfortunately, the person who posted this photo has marred the man’s beautiful legs by writing all over the bottom of the picture. But hers is a fashion-related blog and that’s not really what I’m looking for here.

Anyway, I’m thinking going commando can be applied to anything that’s not candy-ass, a la O’ Brien.

Here are a few commando things:

cleaning each tooth at its juncture with other teeth or gums with Stim-U-Dents


wooden toothpick dispensers

The last one of these I saw was at Trecaso’s Restaurant in Akron. This is not exactly like the toothpick dispenser I remember at Trecaso’s. Theirs was, if memory serves, made of oak and was more squared-off at the top. Maybe that’s just a fantasy embellishment on my part. Does anyone from Akron/Kent or even Ohio at all know if Trecaso’s is still there? I loved that place. Fried zucchini and lasagna were my stand-bys. It was the best fried zucchini in the world. Not greasy. Not some junk-food version of vegetables. Thinly-julienned strips of fresh zucchini, lightly battered and quick-fried to crispy perfection.

No trip to Trecaso’s was complete without an ice cream at Mary Coyle’s afterward. I always got three scoops of their very-creamy coffee ice cream with hot fudge on top. The bright red, neon lights made it almost impossible to see your date in the glare.

I have fond memories of the Highland Square area. It reminds me of my earliest days with Hubby; an old Ohio pal who I saw a John Sayle’s movie with at the old theater with worn, red-velvet seats and gold, braided ropes to cordon off the unuseable balcony; a yoga class on the second floor of a nice old house with an older, roundish teacher; and the Akron Goodwill which was not in Highland Square, but downtown. Somehow, I associate it with that area.

The Akron Goodwill was a favorite destination for me when I had babies. I used to go and comb through the children’s books. They had the best selection of any Goodwill/Salvation Army I’ve ever visited. Not so great for clothes. Sometimes the occasional cool furniture, but the kid’s books were the bomb. They apparently got all of the discards from the Akron Public Library. All sorts of cool out-of-print things with bad bindings and deteriorating paper. I used to let the woman who worked in the book area hold Violet so I could browse. She loved holding her, I loved the break and the shopping. I miss that Goodwill.

driving on Rte 9 through Hadley, Mass, on a Saturday afternoon of Halloween weekend with the beginning of the first heavy snowfall of the season (10-12″ predicted by the end)

Allowing yourself to wait at a light, though still green, because you can see that it will soon turn red and if you go forward through the intersection your car will effectively block traffic in all directions. I know it seems like the commando thing to do is to plow forward into the middle of the intersection though the traffic in front of you is moving at a snail’s pace. Driving with gusto, running through a red light, etc would seem commando. But trust me, moderating your pressure and tempo yields the sexiest results and is the true commando way. Be brave of heart and let that foot up off the gas pedal.

the blues

piano players and singers who moderate their pressure on the keyboard and keep good time

the hip beat

the square beat, when determined by your cultural-musical evolutionary heritage

Oh, back to kilts….Alan Cumming. Remember him? He’s Scottish. Like Ewan McGregor. And I’ve seen photos of each of them wearing kilts. And I’ve seen a lot of films in which Ewan McG is not wearing undies or anything else for that matter, forget about the kilt.

I’ve been taking an Improv I class down in Hartford (one hour drive…ick) and one of the first things I’ve been told is to “make bold choices.” So when I watch actors who are really good, I see this in action time and again. Who cares if you haven’t got the best voice, the most beautiful face, if you are not the tallest, longest, biggest, curviest, buxomest. If you are bold in front of an audience, you’ve done about 70% of the work that needs doing. The rest is gravy. Go commando every time.

Lady Gaga–she’s not exactly pretty, she doesn’t dance well, she doesn’t have a pretty voice. But she’s got balls. Judi Dench. Well, she’s got it all–the classical British theater-training, the vocal control, the beauty. But it’s her solid brass quality that is most scene-stealing. Alan Cumming, same thing–great training, excellent vocal control, beautiful, present, dimpled.

Here, he’s doing the whisper-singing technique of protecting his voice, which tells me his vocal folds are shot. But I think it’s the mettle that keeps us watching.

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