I keep the front of my house all closed up. It usually looks like nobody’s here. So, there was this pounding on my door. Who could it be? I quick fix my hair and run to answer it. When I open it up, I see this guy peeping into my big, livingroom picture window. He looks back at me and says he was admiring the oil lamp on my front porch table. Yeah, sure you were. He said he was the “meat man” (ha..he said meat man) selling steaks, seafood and whatnot. His truck was backed into my driveway. I hate feeling this way, you know, suspicious,… but, “what are you really selling meatman? My big screen tv..after you load it into the back of your truck??” You know, nowadays, everyone’s a criminal. What a shame.
My house is clean. There is absolutely nothing I have to do. I got up, showered, and brushed my teeth. I did *everything* people are supposed to do…but a little better (in my mind). And then I remembered, ..I forgot to work out. Dagnabbit, I almost won today. Almost! Of course I realize I’ll also have points taken away for saying “dagnabbit”. But, if I can’t be first, I don’t care.
When The Cat's Away, The Mice Work Their Buns Off..For One Day!!
I was home alone all week. I didn’t do a damn thing the whole time. (except work out) It felt kinda good. Today I looked around, and, holy shit, the house was a mess. So I cleaned, and cleaned. I even scrubbed the floors. When ‘The Man’ gets home tonight, he’s gonna think I worked my buns off alllll week. It’ll be great. So hey, let’s just keep this our little secret …and there’ll be treats later.
Happy Birthday Paula!! I won’t be baking you a cake, cause admittedly, I’m not the best cook. But, I *do* make a pretty nifty Rice Krispie Treat. So go to your door in ten minutes. I’m gonna hurl this sucker as far as I can.. Mine’s the one with the pink candle in it. (in case some other Rice Krispie treat hurlers happen to be making deliveries at the same time) Enjoy!!
Bad things *always* happen when ‘The Man’s’ away. Like that one time, I was nine months pregnant and the refrigerator broke. Picture me, with my great big belly, at the Speedway Gas Station trying to maneuver two big bags of ice. Then coming home and transferring tons of food into coolers. THAT was fun. Yeah, it was great!! And then there was that time the garage door broke. In JUST the right position. Stuck! Not high enough to get a car out ~ not low enough to consider closed. Needless to say, we didn’t go anywhere that time daddy was gone. Fun. Fun. Fun. Now, they’re predicting these hideously dangerous, winds. And I can’t help but envision the biggest tree in the yard..uprooting…hurling toward the house, smashing the garage door, breaking the refrigerator, and trapping me, away from the computer no less, for days. And thank God, I’m NOT nine months pregnant or I’d probably be delivering the damn kid to boot! …And now, if you will excuse me, I’m going to go think HAPPY thoughts… inside a hallway closet. :)
As a kid, I never liked watermelon. (They didn’t have seedless watermelon back in the day). Now I love watermelon. And I gotta tell ya, I think it was the seeds. Too much work. Never knew what to do with those slimy little things. And then there was always that one person who would say “you know, you swallow that seed, a watermelon’s gonna grow in your tummy”. Who was the genius who decided that was a good idea to tell a kid?! Anyway, a big shout-out to the maker’s of seedless watermelon. Best thing since sliced bread.
So, the big freak out is going around. Big winds are coming. Ooooo, big winds!! Batten down the hatches. Bring in all your patio furniture! Tie down anything that will blow away. Like I have time for this? Well, I do, but… “Crap like this always happens when ‘The Man’ is out of town”. So, I just got back from putting away all the plastic chairs (yeah, we’re classy like that) Took down the flags. That was a pain in the ass. And I did it all in the dark. Now, let the winds come. Oh, and one more thing. If the cable goes out, I’m gonna be pissed..cause I did MY part.
So, it’s another cloudy Saturday. The forecast is rain. *And I don’t care*. All I can think about is my boy. I GET TO SEE MY BOY! So, I will pack the rain poncho, the waterproof blanket, a towel to wipe off the seats..and my camera! Yah, I’m the mom with the camera!! (if your boy was there, I would take pictures of him too) And then secretly, in the back of my mind, I will hope like hell, that the weatherman is wrong. Because it’s easier to take pictures, see my boy, and look perty, when I’m not watching football in the rain.
We live in the pseudo-country. (just on the outskirts of town..kinda country, kinda not) Used to be when you’d hear gunshots, you’d know it was the start of deer season, or someone was goose hunting. Now, with the way things are these days, you hear a gunshot, ..you tense up, stop, and think, ..holy shit, was that the neighbors? Did she finally lose her cool? Has she finally had enough? And then *he* slowly drives away in his white car. *Such a creepy little dude*…Today it was hunters. Oh well, there’s always tomorrow! (you know I’m totally kidding, right? right??)
I spent the day in the Emergency Room with my sister’s daughter. My sister lives up north and couldn’t make it down to be with her, so asked if I could please take her place. We are a close knit family. Her daughter was in such pain. The Doctor came in and began the questions. Family medical history? She replies..”I dunno, I’m adopted. But I do know my birth mother died a couple of months ago from cancer”. This really caught my ear. I waited till the questions were over and the doctor left the room. And then I asked. “How did you find out about your birth mother”. She replied..”oh didn’t you hear? I got in contact with my birth sisters and brothers two weeks ago. Turns out they had a terrible life. There are seven of them. The birth parents only kept three. The rest they adopted out. One of the girls looks just like me”. The birth parents are both dead now. The father spent time in prison and the mother died of drug abuse and cancer. My niece never got to meet them, but maybe that’s for the best. Who am I to say, though. She’s glad she got in touch with them, but feels lucky that she was raised in a much better way than her “other family”. She still feels the need to find out more about them, though, which I think is understandable. (Did I mention that her older sister, is my sister’s first child? Yes, that same mother and father gave up their previous child for adoption, ..adopted by my sister and her husband. My sister’s two children are natural sisters. Kinda cool.) In my eyes they are ours. Always have been. There is no “adopted” or “birth” labels in front of family. They are ours, and I would sit with either one of them in a hospital or anywhere, as long as they need me.
Since he’s been away at school, the boy has had these things stolen: His new Samsung LCD 35” tv, his GPS, his Spanish AND Accounting books, his Timberland boatshoes (yes, somebody took his shoes) and today, we can add to the list…his iPod, which has his name and birthdate engraved on it. Good luck with that one, you filthy animal, thief. It’s so comforting to know my child is thriving in such an honest, safe, and positive, environment. Now, crimestoppers, if any of you happen to see somebody walking around in Timberlands, carrying Accounting and Spanish books, and listening to an iPod, …follow him. If he gets into a car with an LCD tv and a GPS, …nab him! You may have found our thief! Let him know that we are thoroughly disgusted with his lack of respect for other people’s property, we work hard for our money,…and, because of his thievery, he is the reason why WE CAN’T HAVE NICE THINGS!!!
This is so crazy. Yes, I’m a Homemaker, and I dress JUST LIKE THIS, I do that exact same pose when I’m thinking, have the exact same plates, appliances, and we still get our milk delivered in glass bottles. Boy, what a co-inky dink.
Happy Birthday Blanddiva11!! Treat yourself..well, ..you know, ..like a DIVA!!! Seize the day. Have your cake and eat it too. Wishing you a day filled with much happiness and less ‘catch phrases’. Hugs,..and many, many, more!!!
After a week away, we’re finally home. You know that old saying “there’s no place like home?” ..Well, they’re right. The nice cozy livingroom? That’s mine. The big screen tv? That’s mine. This computer with the BIG monitor? That’s mine. The leaves on the ground…even those are mine. The dirty laundry in the laundry room? That’s all his. Hey, I don’t want to appear selfish and claim ALL the stuff. I can’t wait to sleep in MY bed tonight. Yep, that’s mine too. Oh, and this..and this…and…
So we’re riding in the car when Kid Rock’s ‘Sweet Home Alabama~All Summer Long’ comes on the radio. And then we look at each other and go “did they just bleep out “smokin funny things”?? Oh yes, they did. But never fear, apparently it’s still okay to be “sippin whiskey from the bottle”, so we’re cool. …But really, Indiana, REALLY?!
Up bright and early, we hit the road. Another Saturday of the boy’s college football games. This one’s away. FAR, FAR ,away. We’re going to Greencastle, Indiana, folks! In the middle of BF’in nowhere. (my apologies if you live there) We pass through Lafayette, and “oh GREAT”, Purdue is playing today,..so every pedestrian and passer-by is staggering or extremely loaded.(my kind of people). Traffic is neck and neck. Moving along we pass through every small town the Frontier people decided to make, back in the days of the cowboys and indians. Quaint. Now it’s all farms and cornfields as far as the eye can see. The man decides to get cute, and puts on some Country music. I smile and sing along. (it’s Sweetest Day..can’t be complaining). Only a few more minutes and we’ll be there. Seems like it’s been days. Did I mention how much I hate riding in the car? Of course not, ..because it’s Sweetest Day..there will be no complaining. Yeah, it’s not the first place I would pick to go, on a Saturday morning…but I get to see my boy, do what he loves to do…and that makes it all worth it! Proving I will do anything for my kids. ANYTHING. Do you hear me??!
All rise. 1. If you’re stupid enough to go on ‘Judge Judy’, you deserve everything you get. 2. Watching a couple hours of Judge Judy makes me realize my life is pretty. damn. good. 3. I feel sorry for Judge Judy’s kids. 4. Judge Judy scares the bejeezus outa me. 5. I won’t be watching Judge Judy anymore. Case closed.
I just spent the last two hours at the beach with Chelsea Handler. Okay..it was her BOOK, but..I WAS at the beach, ~and it was fabulous. Sunbathers, photo-takers, tons of pigeons, walkers, a trumpet-playing dude, bike-riders…and then a group of douchebags went by on segways. …And I immediately knew, it was God’s way of telling me it was time to leave. Exit, stage left.
I need a job as a hotel inspector. I’m the one that notices the dust on the windowsills, the mold in the caulk around the bathtub, the cracks in the bathroom sink, the fuzz in the hairdryer, the holes in the couch, the crud on the tv remote, the smudges on the mirror, the stains in the carpet. Gah!!! Quick, somebody spray me with Lysol! Only four more days in this place. (it’s really not that bad) …but who wants to hear about a lovely hotel room?
Usually, when we come to Chicago, we stay at my daughter’s swanky, high-rise, apartment overlooking Navy Pier. This time, we’re staying in a hotel built by the dinosaurs, wayyy across town. ‘The Man’ has a conference here. I feel like I’m staying at Great Grandma’s house. Like Marie Antoinette may have owned this couch and Scarlett O’hara definitely could’ve used these drapes for another gown..this time floral. Oh dear, there’s a knock at the door. I better go get it…It might be Ben Franklin to fix these light bulbs.
It’s a beautiful day in Chicago. Sunny and unseasonably warm. Not as much color on the trees as there is in Michigan, but don’t worry, they’ll catch up. The tour boats are cruising up and down the river, and there’s an unusual haze hanging low over the lake and looming in a layer around the tall buildings. Is it fog? Or steam, Or, *gasp* smog? I DON’T KNOW! But, it’s kind of bizarre. Still….It’s a beautiful day in Chicago.
Riding down the highway, in the van, on the way to Chicago, looking at all the pretty colored leaves, on a beautiful sunny day, and realizing how awesome Michigan is. …At least until Winter comes, and then I’ll hate it again, like a mo-fo.
I had never been to a funeral for a baby. Never envisioned the teeny tiny little white casket sitting up in front of the church. Never saw a first time mother and father sitting, staring, at the teeny tiny casket ..with such pain and anguish, grieving for their little child that they will never hold, and watch grow up, and get married, and have little ones of their own. Never saw a first time Grandma and Grandpa sit with their children and watch them suffer in a way few people will have to know, as the pastor talked about the little girl they can’t and won’t bring home. I had never heard so many people sniffling, pouring out the tears…wishing things had turned out differently. I had never been to a funeral for a baby..until today. And I can’t wipe the thought of it out of my head. It’s the saddest thing I’ve ever witnessed..and I hope I never have to do it again. Ever.
I used to be such a good cook. AND a really, really, good baker! Now, it seems EVERYTHING I make is a disaster. No matter what I try, it seems to come out wrong. Seriously, how can you ruin Rice Krispie Treats?!!! I could brick in my basement with these. (After I mix up a batch of bad mortar)
It happened a little over an hour ago. A knock on my front door. It was my neighbor. He didn’t look right. I had seen cars at his house all day. Something just didn’t seem right. He said he needed to tell me something. I said “sure, come in”. I asked if he was okay, and he said “no”. And then he told me, with the most anguished look on his face, that his sweet, young, wife had given birth to their baby, yesterday, and she was stillborn. We hugged each other and sobbed. I really didn’t know what to tell him. I don’t know how they feel. This has never happened to me, and it shouldn’t have happened to them. It was her due date. She carried the baby full term. Everything was fine until yesterday when she stopped feeling the baby move. …And that was it. Their baby is gone. Now all they have is grief. I feel so bad. But I’ll never know how terrible they feel. My heart goes out to them.
Truthful Tuesday: I’m a mom. An artist. But, deep down inside, I have a passion for singing. A ‘want’ to perform. I play the guitar (limitedly) and I’ve sung at most of my girlfriend’s weddings. But I’m talking the big stuff.. like more than the golf-outing ‘Star Spangled Banner’. I’m talking the big stage. Holding the mic. Rocking the crowd. Feeling you feeling me. I hear the Doobie Brothers are getting back together. I’ve always gotten along well with guys. And I know all their songs. Maybe they.. Aw, who am I kidding? If you need me I’ll be in my room singing karaoke.
I’m building things…with wood and nails and saws and stuff. I don’t want ‘the man’ to mess up his pretty hands. He’ll be emptying the dishwasher later. (Yes, that was supposed to be sarcastic). ……So hey, boys and girls, watch for me soon, on the DIY Network. (It could happen)
My daughter was a cheerleader at an inner city school. She was a flyer (the one they threw into the air). This particular year, their squad was AWESOME. Mid-year, they always had an area-wide cheerleading competition. It was a big deal around here (their Super Bowl). This was finally their year!! After Round one, her school was in first place. (unheard of!) Excitement filled the air. Round 2 was flawless, until the dance part..when the music didn’t start. Apparently the cheerleading coach, of the team ahead of them, turned down the volume on the music machine so ours wasn’t audible. Because of this, our timing was off, the girls became panicked and confused. They went over their time limit and ultimately ended up in sixth place. Devastation took over…tears, embarrassment, major disappointment. The ride home was horrible. My daughter was sobbing. They had worked so hard and had the potential to win ..for the first time in YEARS. This is when my mother (who was sitting in the back seat with my crying, unconsolable, daughter…the same mother who never talks about feelings or emotions, ..just the weather) ..decided to speak up and matter of factly said: …”Well, somebody’s gotta lose”. My EYES got wide as saucers. I felt like somebody kicked me in the gut. …The whole time thinking to myself: OMG! Did she just say that to my distraught baby?!! Really? Is this how she thinks you make people feel better?? ..And that’s my mom! God love her. She really, really is a good woman. But conveying feelings isn’t her strong suit. Not her fault. She was raised that way. But now, whenever something happens, where things don’t quite go our way. My daughter and I, lovingly look at each other, eye to eye, and jokingly say: “Well, somebody’s gotta lose” and then we roll our eyes and laugh. Our private little joke.. all thanks to mom. You see, we learn from our mothers… So, last night, when my son’s college football team lost their most important game of the season… I went up to him, and said …NOTHING. I gave him a BIG hug. I did not say, ..nor will I ever say to HIM: “Well, somebody’s gotta lose”! Are you kidding me? I love my teeth too much. Lessons from a mother.
51 is the number of degrees outside. 51 is the number of degrees inside. 51 is the number of sweaters I am wearing. JK,..I don’t have 51 sweaters. This post has been brought to you by the number 51! *little kid laughter sound*