Posts Tagged ‘baby wipes’

Boy, You Sure Are Serious

July 30, 2014

About this Burning Man thing.

My friend leaned into my last night, gently joshing me about my apparent obsession with the event.

His words floated back to me as I re-arranged and sorted my sock drawer.

No, I am not on methamphetamines.

I dusted my book shelves when that happened.

Ahem.

Anyway, I bought two more pairs of socks today to round out my collection, I sorted them into various colors and striations–hearts (like polka dots, but hearts), polka dots (black and white, green, yellow, orange, on a white field, yellow and pink on a pink field, orange, pink, and yellow on white field), argyle, stripes (grape and lilac, Neapolitan pink, chocolate and vanilla, pink and brown Hello Kitty, forest green and light green, purple and navy, navy and black, black and white), “plain” colored socks, all either knee-high or thigh high.

Twenty two pairs all total.

I am out there 19 days.

You need a few extra pairs, because sometimes you want a fresh pair after a shower.

There may be nothing grosser than putting on old dirty playa socks after a shower.

I have done it once I never want to repeat the experiment.

So, socks are set.

And since I was in the bureau I did a quick inventory on my tights and leggings, which I found to be a little lacking, but not completely bereft of hope: two pairs basic black leggings, 1 pair red velvet leggings, 1 pair navy blue with tiny white polka dots, 1 pair pink argyle, 1 pair solid hot pink with lace ankles, one pair nude with black lace flowers, one pair nude with black hearts up the back seam, one pair sheer black thighs highs with pink ribbon laces up the back and thick black lace tops, one pair hot pink fishnets, one pair rainbow fishnets, one pair neon green leggings, one pair black leggings with silver glitter, one pair purple tights with glitter.

Total tights and leggings: 15.

I could use a few more pairs of tights/leggings.

I like to pair the leggings with a crazy set of socks or thigh highs and then wear hipster underwear (no none of my underpants have tiny mustaches on them or ironic coffee pour over references or Nietzsche quotations or Beach House lyrics) and a tank top.

These wild combinations with my boots and my utility belt and I am ready to rock the playa nanny gig.

I also inventoried my under ware.

When was the last time you hears anyone say that?

When was the last time I have ever said that.

“What did you do last night?”

“I inventoried my panty drawer, you?”

Baha.

The panty inventory too a little shy of my goal number: 15 pairs, ranging from solid black to plaid in neon purple and pink, hip hugger, lacy stripes, neon pinks, polka dots, tiny ribbons.

My boss has the best underwear ever–days of the week.

She literally has three sets and just uses a fresh pair each day of the week she’s there.

Well, she’s covered.

I, however, find myself a few short.

Plus, again, like the socks, there will be a time when I shower and I won’t want to put on the same pair of panties, blech!

I will want a fresh pair.

So, 19 days on playa,  I will shoot for 25 pairs of panties.

I am 6 pairs short.

That might be overdoing it a little bit, but better an extra pair of underwear than not enough.

True that.

I have plenty of tank tops and slip dresses and I am going to bring my bibs and my tutu, because why not.

I have one small box completely packed–a hat box, with a couple of hats, some fascinators, my goggles, and my utility belt with the pink Super Girl button on it.

Every good nanny needs a utility belt.

I ran across an old photo from John Curley that he took of the Junebug and I at camp and it is an awesome juxtaposition of charge and nanny.

Juni is looking wistful, forlorn, slightly tired, off into the golden hour descending dusk, and I, just shot from the waist down, am resplendent in my tights, striped orange and brown and cream, a pair of hipster underpants in black with white polka dots and a black tank top, utility belt with water bottle hanging from it, and in one hand I have J’s star wand and in the other her tiara, and I also have a pair of fairy wings that she dumped on me hanging off the back of my shoulders.

Voila!

Playa nanny.

My boss today stopped me mid conversation to ask if I was getting the time I needed to take care of all my own Burning Man preparations.

“I love having you this extra time,” in regards to me helping her out on Fridays for the last few weeks, and again this Friday, “but I realized, that maybe you need some time to get ready, how are your preparations coming?”

I smiled.

I have been whittling away at it for weeks.

A tiny bit here.

A teeny bit there.

So it would not overwhelm me, neither time wise or financially.

A lot of the stuff, socks included, I already have from previous burns, this will make number 8 for me (actually I am really impressed when I went through my tights, the black ones with glitter have been to five burns, unheard of, the same with a couple of pairs of the knee highs which I would never wear except out there)–my utility belt, my crinoline, my electric teapot, makeup, hair stuff, jewelry.

However, there are things that I have to always have.

Baby wipes.

I have bought one pack every once in a while for the past month and now have four packs ready to go.

One week it’s a lip balm.

Another week it was hand salve.

This week I got another container of sunblock.

A few days ago, it was cotton swabs and hair elastics.

“Oh, I have been getting stuff for a bit now,” I told my boss, “I am pretty much ready.”

And I am.

I could go with what I have and not break a sweat, I have gone with far less in the past and got by just fine.

There is a point to when the stuff getting has to stop and the being ready is just fine.

I pick up my bicycle this week from American Cyclery and that’s about all she wrote.

Well, aside from a few more pairs of underpants.

A girl can’t have too many of those.

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Yeah, I Got All My Basics Covered

July 17, 2013

I related to my room-mate and venerable host here at Graceland this evening.

We were talking Burning Man, time on playa, all things dusty.

I had unearthed my bins, two medium size plastic bins, clear with snap tops, from the attic this past weekend.  I washed out my single person sleeping bag and ran it through the laundry.  I saw that I still have coffee filters for coffee, my electric teapot still works, and the bean grinder, albeit dusty, is capable of grinding up the beans.

I like a hot cup of coffee in the morning when the cool night has not dissipated from the playa, the sun’s slanting rays beckoning the oncoming heat, but not hot yet, not hot at all, in fact, still cold in the morning when I go to the port-a-potty in my pajamas, still cold enough to snuggle into a sweatshirt.

Coffee is a delicious treat for me on playa.

That and pink grapefruit sparkling Perrier.

I love me some bubble water, I do.

My life, my Burning Man life, and my life in general is small in stature, but big in experience.

I realize this after I got off a phone call from an acquaintance who I believe will become a friend.  We had a deep talk about life and it was quite powerful to share my experience.

I may not look like a wealthy woman, but my life is abundant in experience.

I am deep in the prosperity pool when it comes to having gotten to do things that not a lot of folks have done.  Whether it is traveling, living abroad (six months in Paris anyone?) writing a book, blogging every day, taking photographs, having a short story published, soon!  Or it is in the relationships I have with others, the way I get to hold a baby in my arms and know how to soothe it.

Or how to ask for a raise.

Did another family today.

That does not sound like I meant.

I asked another of my families.

Nope.

Third time, I uncomfortable in my own skin, simply stated, “my rates have to go up, as of August 1st.”

I acknowledged my discomfort in asking, but I also acknowledge my cost of living is going up, way up in August.

Oh, student loans, oh student loans, of thee I sing.

The loans they come out of forbearance and I also want to have the deposit down on the studio before I leave for the event.

That is doable.

I ca do it.

I will do it.

As I said before, I have all my basics, basically covered.

I picked up a three pack of baby wipes yesterday and that felt like, ok, I can do this now.

I do not know why the baby wipes were my signifier, but that they were.

I got boots, baby wipes, my Ipod player, which has been to four Burning Man’s and I am always astounded it still works, toiletries–sunblock, coconut lotion, extra toothpaste–my make up kit, extra socks, extra panties, my bicycle seat shipped today, and I got a parasol, the old one died in Paris.

It rained a lot while I was there.

I have a friend who has offered me bedding, just need to figure out how to get it.

That is the other logistical thing that comes up for me.

I will have to get my bicycle to my employers, which should not be too hard, but shall be amusing to see me ride it through the Wiggle on my way to their place in Cole Valley.

I can give the Fat Banana seat a test ride.

I will also have a purple pennant flag on the rear bracket and a retro style old skool throwback white plastic handlebar basket with red and blue daisies on it.

It will be something else, that’s for sure.

My employer asked if my Burning Man rates were the same.

Yes.

Absolutely.

Water, food, showers, transport there and back, my ticket, and a trailer to stay in.

Plus the agreed upon financial compensation, it’s going to be some work, work, work, but it should cover my first months rent and move in costs to the studio.

She also asked if I wanted a little introduction written up to send out to my camp mates, I will be camping with 30 people I do not know this year.

That too is going to be a different experience.

I am not excited about it and I am at the same time.

I will miss Media Mecca peeps, but I figure, I know where they live I will find them.

I was too thrilled to hear how she was willing to do whatever necessary to secure my services to really even give a thought to how I was to be introduced to my fellow camp mates. I felt honored and wanted and that I would be taken care of, just that is enough.

“This is Carmen, our nanny,” simple, easy, done.

I was afraid to ask for the rate raise, to ask, as well, as I get ideas, I get ideas, mmmhhhmmmm, that I won’t be taken care of, that I will raise my ask and people will go, what?  Are you nuts?

No way.

But I knew that not asking was going to make me crazier and that my basics has to include taking proper self-care of myself.

I will be able to really enjoy Burning Man knowing that my job is secure when I get back.

Despite having no idea how it will look.

I know there are people who want me and I want to work with them and I have got some fantastic kids to tend.

That is all I need to know for the rest of the day.

That pretty much covers it.

I mean, I got the baby wipes, what else could I possibly need?


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