Friday, September 30, 2005

WHY DON'T YOU...

...GET ANGRY AT ME FOR NOT PLAYING WITH YOU AND SHRED A WHOLE COSTCO JUMBO PACK OF TOILET PAPER ALL OVER THE FOYER?!?!?

Also Why Don't You...

...take my slipper literally off my foot, so you can violently shake the living crap out of it, make it your beyatch, and then do the same thing to the other one?

Thursday, September 29, 2005

Why don't you...











...bring every single last one of your toys into my office and drop them at my feet, trying to seduce me away from the computer?

Why don't you... then bring me other love offerings from around the house: a slipper, a small stuffed bunny, a Kelly doll (Barbie’s niece), and a pair of panties?


Why don't you... bark and get very excited every time someone signs onto Yahoo chat because it sounds like knocking and you're sure there's a visitor at the door, upstairs?

What I Did Today

Let the dogs out.
Let the dogs in.
Let one dog out.
Let the other dog out.
Let the dogs in.
Let one dog out while other dog thought about it.
Let the dog in.
Let one dog out.
Let other dog out.
Let one dog in.
Let other dog back out.
Let both dogs in.
Let one dog out while other dog watched.
Accidentally left door open…
Quickly located one dog.
Searched 15 minutes for other dog.

Lunch.

Canine Hotel

At almost any moment of the day, I can look down and see this. The attitude is "Perimeters are clear, all systems check, how 'bout we take a nap?"


The last few days it's this.

The attitude on the left is "sigh" and the attitude on the right is "Now what are we gonna do, Lisa? Are we going somewhere? Should I go get my bear? chipmunk? unstuffed ferret? tennis ball? your left shoe? Hey! Got any more of those baby carrots?! Carrots! Yay! It's all good! Party! Party! Par-tay!"

Meet Scruffy, whose name I believe is Dutch for persistent little bugger. We're just borrowing him for a few days, so don't get excited. If I ever thought Shelby was needy, I was wrong. She's attentive; this dog is needy. He wants my attention, lots of it, all day long. The only way I can get any writing done is to let him sit in my chair with me. I figured out if I perch towards the front of the seat, then he will wrap his long skinny self around the back of me and rest his chin on my arm. And I can almost type like that. He's very warm and snuggly, so I'm not really complaining. It just took me a day and a half of "Scruffy, get down" to realize if I'd just let him up, we'd both be a lot happier. He'll doze contentedly like that for upwards of ten minutes before he has to jump down and run off to check on Shelby again. Notice I said he has to run. Scruffy doesn't really walk much because running is better, faster and louder. I give him a lot of credit, though. Scruffy lives life to its full-tilt-boogie biggest & best. It's true what they say about short guys, they really do try a lot harder.

Wednesday, September 28, 2005

Nonna Dolce

I just ran into one of my favorite little Italian grandmas, Playground Connie. I said something really imaginative like "Hi Connie" and she smiled and said "Hi! How are you? Such a beautiful day; it makes everyone feel so good." I'd been thinking the same thing, but only about me. That's why I amore Connie so much.

Happy Birthday Emily!













Today my baby turns 10 years old. If you see her, please gush and make a big deal out of telling her Happy Birthday, okay? Emily's feeling a little sad because Liz (her idol) is gone on her school's Traverse City trip. I promised her we can do whatever she wants tonight, just the three of us, and that she'd have mom & dad's undivided attention. She wants to go to Red Robin for dinner (shudder) and open presents, so we shall. She's also having a backwards birthday party this weekend, and Liz will be home in time for that.

Right now, at ten, Emily says she wants to be a wedding planner/hair stylist when she grows up. She wants to plan weddings, and then she'll "get to do the bride's hair." Of course the other day she also said "the whole point of weddings is to be uncomfortable" so I kind of wonder about her future clients.

What I Would Ask You

Ever know someone you think seems pretty together and then you find out via either time or proximity they are just as goofed up, angst-ridden and bizarre as everyone else? And you feel a combination of relief and disappointment? Me too. That's really something, huh?

Tuesday, September 27, 2005

A Very Bad Day

Just so you know… The swear words blocker is officially turned off now. That means I’m going to start swearing like a sailor when I feel like it, so deal. If you are of a delicate constitution, and cannot tolerate a well-placed curse word, then I suggest you go elsewhere. Capise? Also, since my kids have taken a look at the site, have seen that it’s lame and uninteresting, they won’t be hanging around here anymore. Ironically, now it’s going to get a lot more interesting...

Yesterday was a bad day. I’m usually loath to say that, to condemn the rest of a day during that day, but now that it’s over and with the benefit of hindsight, yeah, I’m cool saying yesterday was A Bad Day. I’ve been generally miserable for the last week or so and yesterday bit it big time. I tried, I really did, or I thought I did. I made some pathetic attempts at doing Things To Feel Better and they all reversed and bit me in the ass.

1. Yesterday I tried sleeping in a little, thinking that would help. It did not help. It just made the morning more chaotic, what was left of it by the time I got up. This is, of course, because all the same shit had to get done, just with less time. When just barely awake, it did sound like a good idea though, so I can see how I fell for my own “logic” on this one.

2. I tried talking with a friend. That did not work at all. Really what I needed was some sympathy, but since I was on a downward spiral anyhow, I went to a not-so-sympathetic person. Our conversation quickly became a debate, which would normally be fine because I enjoy that kind of thing. But I forgot this person will do anything to win, including going into forbidden territory, but only to mock me about it. And so now Ye Shall Be Punished. That means I’m not talking to you for A Long Time, which is likely to be 3-4 days. This serves three purposes. First, it punishes you, in my mind anyway. Second, it keeps me from making the same mistake, which is talking to you when I don’t have all my emotional shit together. Third, hopefully it gives me time to get out of my funk so I can think more clearly and do better in the next debate.

3. I didn’t leave the house. Like sleeping in, this always seems like a good idea at the time too, but resoundingly, overwhelmingly it never is. I didn’t see any humans other than my family and dog. They are all wonderful, and they tried to cheer me up or at least not make things worse. (see above) They succeeded, and I have to say working on my daughter’s Ojibwa book report with her was the highlight of my day. If you have kids, I’m sure you can see the perspective in that, right?

4. Since I was on a roll, and to be even more self-destructive, I ate terrible food yesterday. I drank only coffee, nothing else. Actually, I didn’t feel too bad physically, but I know this is so not good for me. And I didn’t realize I’d done it until late last night when it was too late. What was I going to do then? Steam up some green beans as a late night snack? When the Funyuns are sitting right there? (Okay, I lied. I didn’t have any Funyuns. I just thought it would be funnier than admitting I had some Ritz crackers. See? Funyuns = funnier)

5. I didn’t go for a walk with Ken. We go just about every evening. I thought about it, and then didn’t ask him. He’s still a little under the weather, but like Shelby, he will almost always go for a walk. So I missed out on connecting with him, having his undivided attention for 30 minutes away from the kids, getting some exercise, and leaving the damn house. Score bonus points for this one!

5. I stayed up too late. I kept trying to find something good in that damn day yesterday, to validate its existence, to resurrect it, to make it count for something. But it didn’t. It sucked all the way around. But I kept thinking… Maybe if I just write about it? Maybe if I make something look prettier? Maybe if I read something funny? Maybe if I troll the internet for another hour? Um, no. Sometimes giving up is the best thing one can do.

I don’t know how to wrap this up, other than to thank you if you’ve read this far. I feel better writing it all down, I really do. And so far today has been better.

Monday, September 26, 2005

Bringer Of The Bacon (and Bread)











Ken knows I've been a little, um, grumpy lately, so today on his way home he surprised me by picking up a special treat. He brought home two orders of fresh, delicious bread from Real Seafood, my favorite. In case you don't know? This is hot, buttery, garlicy Muir bread, aka, perfection in bread form. We sat in my office and ate it with even more butter and it was very, very good, indeed. Low carb? Hell, no. Yummy? Definitely. Both the bread and the bringer.

Sunday, September 25, 2005

Happy Birthday Dad!


Hi Dad,
This is my web log, or in geek speak, blog. I call it Shelby's Mum and it's kind of like an online journal or diary of what's going on. It's all Lisa, all the time. Except for when I talk about other people, places, things or ideas. Anyway, take a look around if you'd like. It's all fairly clean right now, too. But on the off chance you find something you don't like, it's all because of Allyson. She told me to do it.

Did Greg give me that stuffed dog in the above picture? For some reason I think he did... Anyway, I've always especially liked that picture and so that's why I chose it.

Hope you have a Happy Birthday!
Love,
Lisa

Saturday, September 24, 2005

Ken Is A Very. Lucky. Man.



This here? This is the breakfast tray I brought to Ken this morning, because he's sick and wanted Cream of Wheat. I can't eat the stuff, it makes me ill just thinking about it, so I don't. I just make it. For him. And then I put it on a pretty tray with a cute matching napkin and his favorite Legoland mug with his name on it, and hauled the whole thing upstairs. Because I'm good like that. And besides, he looked kind of cute in his honeymoon t-shirt.

Now. I will tell you some of the things he said to me last night. And still, please keep me in mind, the one with the shlepping of the hot food, all the way upstairs and down to the far end of the hall...

"This weekend I'd like to go do some guy things. Like maybe go to a casino with Norm, or get a drink with David, or pick up some hookers."

When I questioned that, he said...

"I need to spend time with guys, doing guy things. Because usually I spend my time with... you. And you're like a good friend."

WTF? And then, just to make it all better, we somehow started talking about an ex-girlfriend of his...

"I knew within the first five seconds I saw her, she was ideal for me. She walked into my FORTRAN programming class & she just looked so confident, secure and intelligent. And she sat in the back, which intrigued me."

Yeah, but did she make Cream of Wheat?

Friday, September 23, 2005

Sisters, con't.












Liz and Emily, I encourage you to persist in your current struggle of learning how to work out your differences with each other as sisters. If you get really good at it, you'll one day not only accept those differences, but be able to celebrate them. And then? You can make breakfast together. One of you, probably the quieter, more patient one, can do the waffles. And your sister can make some high-energy blueberry pancakes because there's a lot of flipping involved and she likes to keep moving.

Universal Balance

I swear I didn't plan to talk about HND this much. My idea was to post something about him once a week or so, mostly to tease my friends as they try to figure out who he is. But something just happened, and I can't wait till next week. Besides, I'm kind of confused about it and this is how I figure things out.

I was driving by his house a little bit ago and couldn't help but notice he was out in his driveway, washing his SUV. He had on nice shorts & a t-shirt, a Life Is Good hat and bare feet. I'm the first one to admit I'm a total and complete sucker for the casual look. What more could I ask for? All of the colors were good and everything matched and the sun was shining and the water was misting over him in a lovely arc and the visual part was very good indeed. I was driving along thinking how I could just spread him on a cracker, he's so delicious. And that is exactly when I should have realized I was ahead, counted my blessings and turned away.

Unfortunately, HND's hose has one of those squeeze sprayers on it, so when he dropped it and then stepped on it he sprayed himself. That's when he started jumping around trying to stop stepping on the sprayer, but of course he was also trying to stay out of the stream of water. So the more he tried the more he kept stepping on it and spraying himself. It was adorably cute, like a commercial it was so darn cute. And again, I should have looked away. Because that is when I noticed he was dancing around trying to not get his damn cigarette wet, because he smokes, which is probably why he dropped his hose in the first place.

Are you kidding me? HND not only smokes, but he needs a cigarette so badly he has to smoke while washing the car? He can't wait that long, until he's finished? Or is he so uncoordinated he can't do both at the same time? I tell ya, the Universe? She giveth and she taketh away, sometimes with blinding speed.

Gratitude Big & Small

Big: Gratitude to my friend Bill for taking me seriously and saying you definitely should be blogging when I said I was thinking about trying it, for suggesting I use Blogger which has been so easy to use even I can do it, and for saying the results are very impressive.

Small: Gratitude to Emily for today's beauty tip. "Mom, want to grow 30 inches taller, lose weight, have bigger boobs and a prettier face? Just stand up straight with good posture and pull your shoulders back until they pop. I read it in a magazine."

Thursday, September 22, 2005

Sisters












E: Liz. I really, honestly love you.
L: I really, honestly love you too.


Ken overhead them saying the above to each other last week. I guess I put this little exchange up here for my own sake, to remind myself that Liz & Em really do love each other. They had the worst argument in their history as sisters last night. It was brutal & blisteringly personal. This too shall pass, right?

(Confidential to Marissa: Happy Birthday, you silly goose!)

Wednesday, September 21, 2005

Jaunty Bird Rides

I was just outside, bringing in the trash can & recycling tubs when I happened to catch my neighbor returning from taking his birds out for a ride. He lets them perch on his shoulders as he drives around, running short errands. I guess when you've taken away their ability to fly, it's only decent & right to offer your birds a spin around the block every now and then.

Feeling Trashy & Shallow

Today is trash pickup day in my neighborhood, so every house put their identical city-issued trash can out at the curb. My older daughter commented it looks like a scene out of The Giver, a book she read in school, where everything is state-issued and exactly the same. Totally different, my dear. Ours came from the city. Anyway, the part I didn't discuss with her is that Hot Neighborhood Dad was also putting his recycling out, which is good news. The bad news is what he chose to wear while doing it. It's far too shallow for me to discuss his "outfit" here. I feel bad enough thinking about it. On the other hand, our relationship is already just about as shallow as it can possibly get. He does get points for creativity, though...

Tuesday, September 20, 2005

Overheard: Middle School Carpool

"Oh, I just love retro things." (talking about Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Girl #1: A? She's married to B, but not to C .
Girl #2: Yeah? C, she's married but I don't know to who. But she cheats.
Me: What?!
Girl #1: Ha! Yeah, they cheat. Totally. Everyone cheats.
Girl #2: Yeah, everyone cheats. I'm married to, like, seven people!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kids in unison:
"Whose motorcycle is this?"
"This is a chopper, baby."
"Whose chopper is this?"
" Zed's, baby."
" Who's Zed?"
" Zed is dead, baby. Zed is dead."

(Sometimes I play the Pulp Fiction soundtrack in the car, but I always skip over the 'adult' parts. Kind of makes you want to rethink carpooling with me, huh?)

The Other Night After Dinner

Lisa: Those kids. They are driving me crazy.
Ken: Hmmm?
Lisa: They are so loud, can't you hear them?
Ken: Um... Kids, please clear your plates.
Lisa: No. I just want them to go to bed.
Ken: And then straighten up the family room, you guys.
Lisa: NO! I said I want them to go to bed! I need quiet!
Ken: (looking startled) Uh, okay.
Lisa: Hmmm. I might have just a little touch of PMS.
Ken: (mumbling) No such thing as a little...
Lisa: WHAT DID YOU SAY???

Monday, September 19, 2005

My Name Is Lisa


An earlier comment chided me for not revealing my name on this here blog. (I'm too lazy to check; I'll take your word for it.) Oh, and Bill, too. Henceforth... My name is Lisa and this is the story of how I got that way.

My parents, who were very young and naive when I was born, were absolutely sure I was going to be a boy. They were completely prepared for a boy. I had a navy blue and white nursery (which my mother now swears was unisex), a toy box with a tiger & racing stripes on it, a ride-on metal car, and a wardrobe full of jeans and Pontiac Motor t-shirts. Everthing was ready and waiting for 'Jon' to be born and come tear it up in the way only a little boy can. Boy! Were they surprised when Jon was born a girl.

In those days women stayed in the hospital 4-5 days after giving birth and from what I hear, my parents spent that time alternating between bewildered disbelief and trying to brain-storm a "girl's name." There was even a joke I heard many times as a kid that the hospital threatened to not let me leave if Mom & Dad didn't get their act together and pick a name for me. My guess is my parents finally gave up and went down to the nursery to see what all the other parents of new baby girls were naming theirs. Lisa was the most popular girl's name by far, so they just went with that. And to really seal the deal, my parents chose Anne for my middle name. It's a family name, which is nice, but not exactly creative or original. But Oh! how I cherished that "E" at the end of my middle name, my only teensy little nubbin of uniquness. (ever notice my kids both have E names? Note to self for future post...) I remember in elementary school, more than once, explaining to a garden-variety Lisa Ann that my name was different, because mine had an E.

Some might say having a very common name is a bad thing, but it has some benefits too. Therefore...

Top Ten Reasons It's Good To Be Lisa

1. Lisa Lisa & Cult Jam. Whatever, it's got my name in it twice, so I suppose that's something, right?

2. Prince had a Lisa in his band, The Revolution. She's heard in the opening dialog of the filthy song Darling Nikki. For about a year when I'd ask a question of certain people, I'd hear "Yes, Lisa" ala that song.

3. Lisa Lips, an obscure late-eighties song another Lisa told me about. She was a groupie with actual carnal knowledge of Peter Buck, so who was I to argue?

4. Lisa Douglas on Green Acres. Peignoir sets as daytime casual wear! On a farm!

5. Lisa Lubner on SNL, the one with Todd? and noogies? And Lisa Simpson!

6. My Name's Not Lisa, the song, that my 4th grade reading teacher would sing out loud, in the hallway, every time he saw me for three solid years until I graduated from elementary school. For some reason he only sang it for me, not the other 83 girls named Lisa.

7. The Lisa computer, a funky old computer Steve Jobs created for Apple and named after his daughter. This helped me snag a charming geek who not only told me that story but then also saw me as extra attractive because of it. I only wish I could make something like this up...

8. Lisa soaps from cheap hotels. I have a whole collection; people bring them to me and say Have you seen this?

9. Monogrammed stuff in catalogs is often done up with my name on the display model. No guessing how my monogrammed purse/pillowcase/popcorn bowl will look!

10. FOUR Lisas in my 6th grade class, and one slightly overworked, non-detail-oriented teacher set the stage for me to learn early about the loophole usually reserved for twins. "Me? Don't think so, might have been the other one..."

Sunday, September 18, 2005

K's Art Of Placement

Lisa: Wow. Look at that new building. Really bad feng shui.
Ken: Where?
Lisa: Those sharp, angular points of glass jutting out? That's cutting chi.
Ken: Heh-heh. Heh-heh. Yeah, I cut the chi.
Lisa: So which one did I marry again, Beevis or Butthead?

Happy Birthday Shelby!

Today is my dog Shelby's birthday; she's turning 15. She's such a good dog and now that she's getting older, I'm thinking she should probably be allowed some special, big-girl priviledges. Maybe I should let her get her ears pierced or wear lip gloss or start running the neighborhood off-leash like she's been whining all the other dogs her age are allowed to do. I don't even want to think about what's next after that... dating? Or do the teenage dogs even do that anymore? I think I read somewhere they mostly just get together, hang out and then randomly hook-up and mash. Ugh. I don't know if I'm ready for all this... They grow up so fast.

Saturday, September 17, 2005

Pepsi Bottling Group

Em: Mom, does PBG stand for Pepsi Bottling Group?
Me: No, honey. It does not.
Em: Why not?
Me: It just doesn't, sweetie.
Em: Well, I checked on Google and that's what it said.

Friday, September 16, 2005

Just Like Heaven

is...

a. The movie we saw earlier tonight.

b. How it feels when my teenage daughter says "Yeah, pimp my popcorn" in response to whether she wants extra butter.

c. What it's like to go to Buffalo Wild Wings for "food" and "music" after the movie, because it's that same teenager's turn to choose the place.

d. How it feels to realize I'm the oldest person in the room, rubbing shoulders with hundreds of horny college students.

e. The look on Ken's face after he'd charmed Carie the waitress out of a free Bell's beer t-shirt and Claudia the other waitress out of a free Bell's bumper sticker and some matches.

Thursday, September 15, 2005

M's Art Of Placement

I missed going to my older daughter's curriculum night at school last night because it was the first meeting of a new class I'm taking. I'm still a good mom though, so I sent a very capable proxy, her father. He seemed to do okay; he found all the classes, met all the teachers, made a good impression on the principal, didn't snort or say anything that would embarrass a teenager, yukked it up with my friends, got a hot lead on a pot roast recipe, etc. He was wildly successful doing the motherly stuff that I normally do. (Thanks, hon)

I couldn't be there because it was the first night of my Advanced Feng Shui & Decluttering class. My friend M and I had taken the beginner's class last spring. (No, her name isn't really M, she just prefers it for blogs. She's a little shady and... I think it has something to do with her parole officer, but I didn't want to get all up in her business so I didn't ask.) Anyway, class was very interesting and we had a fine time learning about how it totally goofs up our chi if we keep stuffing junk under our beds. The teacher also demonstrated that sitting with one's back to a doorway, or god forbid with the corner of a coffee table pointed menacingly at your body, is just plain energy suicide. Feng shui has a lot of rules. M, as I'm sure you might have guessed, isn't fond of rules or following them.

Over tea and a nice piece of pie after class, I gently reminded M that even thinking about getting her kids bunk-beds was tantamount to sealing their fates as stressed-out postal workers. M is not one to be trifled with anyway, and she'd clearly reached her limit for one day. She squared her shoulders and looked me dead in the eye and said "Well! If it makes ME happy, then it's good feng shui!" So there. Take that 2,000 years of "art of placement" or whatever you call your sorry self.

Em Takes Another Guess

Just a few minutes ago Em unwisely demanded "Open this" as she thrust a box of Froot Loops at me. I suppose it might have been the look on my face that caused her to reconsider her tactic. She quickly added "please" and a smile... and for good measure "You're just the greatest Peanut Butter Girl ever!" I suppose it was my laughter that prompted "Or is it Protectors of Boys and Girls?" Of course I didn't say anything. First rule of PBG, my dear. There is no PBG.

Tuesday, September 13, 2005

Love Letter to Tommy Bahama

I promised a friend that I would not ever write about accessories or shopping or god forbid, shoes. STOP READING JOAN cuz I'm a rebel, I tell ya. Rules were made for breaking. Or bending. And blogs were made for free expression. To that end, I will now write about my perfume. I'm not sure if perfume qualifies as an accessory or not, but it's certainly lightweight, and this story has something to do with shopping... and there are even shoes mentioned, albeit not my shoes, but I'm not taking any chances. Fair Warning.

Is she gone? She's gone, isn't she? I think she's gone.

Okay, I think part of my recent & unprecedented joy is coming from the perfume I bought a bit ago. Maybe it has teeny-tiny inhalable ecstasy molecules in it? Unlikely. I'm pretty sure it contains a kind of scent-note-element of something that I recall from childhood, and it triggers a very happy long-ago memory. I'll spritz it on and about an hour later... Bliss. I get little flashes of being on vacation in Kalkaska when I was about 8. I feel just as happy & carefree as I did then. It's interesting how we have so few words to describe scents, our perceptions of them and the sense of smell in general. Suffice it to say, this stuff is brain-stemming me into a happy place and I like it. A lot.

The other part is that I am associating my perfume with a recent happy memory. I went on a little trip with my sister, Allyson, a few weeks ago to Vegas. We spent most of our time talktalktalking, shopping, ordering room service & enjoying fancy dinners. We had a great time. But Vegas tends to be a little over-stimulating for me and one particular day I was beginning to feel exhausted from, um, Vegas being Vegas. Just then, on the horizon I saw a Tommy Bahama store. It was like a peaceful oasis, right there in the middle of smut-filled visual & audial chaos. I spent a long time in that store, looking at everything, trying on watches, perfume & clothes, hanging out in the dressing room longer than was necessary, playing with the purses, stroking the men's silk shirts, chatting with the sales gal, and just generally soaking up the laid-back island vibe for as long as possible. When Allyson finally ran out of slutty shoe stores to browse in, she came and got me. (mind you, she didn't buy slutty shoes; hers are cute) I walked out of Tommy Bahama with an overpriced shirt and some complimentary perfume samples. Addicts always say the first one was free, don't they?

All Is Well

This might sound dorky, or like I'm bragging, but I'm not. (bragging) I'm having a very, very happy day today. Everything has either gone well ala The Way I Want It To, or I've been able to easily work with the "challenges" of today. I just feel really happy. Good. Peaceful. Safe. Solid and Carefree. Dare I say? I feel... serene.

I looove this feeling. This? This right here is what I call All Is Well. This is how I want to feel ALL THE TIME. Of course, I don't, which is why I want to figure this out. What gives? What's the recipe for creating a day like this? Did I have a lot of caffeine? Did I have just the right thing for lunch, a perfect balance of nutrients? Got exactly the optimal amount of sleep? Did someone say or do something special? I can't put my finger on it... can't name or define it. I suppose, well, maybe it just is. Maybe I should stop trying to figure it out, and just live in the frickin' moment and enjoy it, this blissful mm-mmm feeling.

Fair Warning: If I run into you this afternoon? And I run up and give you a hug and a kiss? For no reason? And then kind of skip-dance off to the next person? Now you'll know why. It's because I'm high. I just don't know on what. But if I figure it out, I double-pinky promise to share with all of my loyal readers because you people are that yummy. Kisses!

Sunday, September 11, 2005

Flirting With Spam

I have to say, I rather enjoy my spam. (not really, Ken) I know it's odd to admit, but I do glance at it. (no I don't, hon. I delete it) I'm smart enough not to open it, I just peek at it a bit. (lying. I permanently shift-delete it immediately) Just imagine if it were all real and true? I could double my penis size & stamina, increase & enhance my breasts, remortgage my house for substantially less cost and no cash down, and get high-quality Vicodin mailed right to my home, delivered in a plain brown wrapper that says Not Vicodin on it, all with a keystroke! (of course I made all of that up, sweetie, how would I know what spam offers?)

Friday, September 09, 2005

Warm Heart Cockles

Some recent items that have warmed the very cockles of my heart, whatever a cockle is...

* My older daughter took a good look at my new purse and said the handle/strap was "bogus." I'm not a middle-schooler, so I'll just trust her on this one.

* I find it very hopeful & romantic that a woman has agreed to marry Robert Downey Jr. He's adorable and hugely talented, of course, but talk about a guy with some baggage.

* My daughter said "I love having a mom with such great fashion style!" This was after she asked my opinion on which t-shirt she should wear to school the next day. I suggested the one from the science center, pointing out how science and school just naturally go together.

A Beautiful Day In My Neighborhood

As I was zipping through my neighborhood today, I managed to see two of my favorite people.

First, was a guy I call Hot Neighborhood Dad. I choose to not know him as a person because 1.) I don't need to, and 2.) I prefer the fantasy. What if I got to know him and he turned out to be dull or insensitive or yells or is a non-recycler or something else unforgivably not-hot? It's not worth the risk; I prefer my beefcake mysterious and full of potential. Today he was with his dog. Usually that would be a bonus in my book, but his dog turned out to be one of those small, low-to-the-ground, fluffy white things. He patiently stood there all sexy & manly, holding Zsa Zsa's tiny flaccid leash while she did her business. It was tricky to do while driving, but I managed to mentally PhotoShop a chocolate lab in her place. Fantasy intact.

Second, I passed by one of my 'best friends' while driving. We laugh about how silly it is to be all grown-up and still designating our friends this way, but she is. We waved at the same time and I could see her face as we passed. She is always genuinely happy to see me and the feeling is mutual. We've been friends for years and are very secure in our relationship, so we didn't stop. As she continued on her way I silently hoped she would catch a nice glimpse of HND too.

Thursday, September 08, 2005

Tooth Fairy

My younger daughter had a loose tooth, which fell out today at school. She showed it to me in the car on the way home, nestled in a tiny plastic treasure chest. Getting out of the car she looked at me and very pointedly said "I want the tooth fairy to come... and I don't want to have to remind her five times."

Monday, September 05, 2005

What I Would Ask You

I'll begin by saying I have the absolute nicest good-guy of a husband there ever was. He's pure gold, and the envy of several, anyway. I love him very much and honestly couldn't ask for a better husband, father for my children, yadda, yadda... So, what I would ask you is... Ever had the urge to declare a short marital timeout? I don't mean for sexual side trips; I'm talking about something much bigger and more exciting. What I want is to taste the sweet freedom of living my life not by committee once again.

Why? Because the selfish & impatient part of me? The part that just wants to do whatever the hell I want to do? When and how I want to do it? Without explanations, negotiations or compromises? Still isn't dead after fifteen-ish years, she's just quieter.

Gratitude Big & Small

Small: I am so grateful that I am no longer assigned homework, that I have to do, that I don't want to do, especially over a holiday weekend.

Big: Watching the neighbor kids try to figure out how to play together and get along, I'm grateful I didn't get the big brother I always thought I wanted because my sister and I only mentally scarred each other.

Saturday, September 03, 2005

Ken Ponders Bra Strappage

This morning Ken and I went out for breakfast alone, without the kids, before they got up. We were nearly finished when a young couple sat down at a table near us. The woman was especially attractive, probably a college student. A few minutes later Ken kind of cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, a signal to me that I should prepare myself for something profound. He said "Well, now, I've always had some difficulty with the bra straps showing. I mean, she knows they're showing, right?" He indicated the lovely young thing. She was wearing one of those strappy little tops with her high-color-contrasting skinny bra straps completely visible. Apparently, he's been thinking about this for some time.

He was quick to point out that he's totally fine with it now. It was the transition he'd been wrestling with. When he was young and started paying attention to such things, bra straps were absolutely not supposed to show, and any glimpse was an illicit thrill. A few years ago it started happening more and more, then became acceptable. Now he feels it's "almost intentional that all these bra straps are fully visible." He reiterated that he's fine with it, rather he's a little confused about where he's supposed to be looking or not. I assured him that's the whole point, and perhaps the same deal as thongs.