Thursday, October 26, 2006

What An Awesomely Suckastic Day I Am Having!

It started when I woke up this morning to a blanket of snow covering the ground which, in hindsight, should have come as no surprise since it was snowing last night when the kids and I drove to the airport to pick up Hugh following his flight from Milwaukee.

Still. Snow in October, blech.

Also, don’t know if I have mentioned this before but I hate, hate, hate to drive in the snow. I hate it with the intensity of a million burning urinary tract infections and not because I’m a bad driver; because of all the other bad drivers. Like say, this morning’s particular jackass; a Texan in a humongous SUV who could not be bothered to signal before changing lanes or to yield the right of way when it was required of him. He totally deserved a middle finger salute but, I resisted the temptation since, someday, the CARma boomerange is going to come back around and he will learn that four-wheel drive does not invincible make; I don't want to jinx myself into being the poor schmuck in his path when it does.

Since merely driving to work wasn’t enough to make my day suck, I got to drive to a seminar a few miles away from my office. I didn’t really want to attend the seminar in the first place and certainly not in a blizzard. Even better was the fact that Hugh called right before I left to inform me that the ice maker on our freezer had malfunctioned and flooded the kitchen floor. The wood floors. Sucktastic!

And, the seminar was just as fabulous as I had expected it to be (she said sarcastically). I tried to pay attention to the presenter, however and, I did learn a few valuable tips related to the field of advertising; such as; Frequency =Top of Mind Awareness=Market Share.

Seriously? I had no idea (there’s that sarcasm again).

I did manage to incorporate the "impressive" factoids that I gleaned during the seminar in my mental wanderings, however:

Repetition Builds Reputation! Really? Someone should have explained that particular bit of logic to several girls in my high school; repeatedly screwing the football team did indeed build their reputations as total ho bags.

Frequency of 3=Top of Mind Awareness! I have to pee. I have to pee. I have to pee. Ah, I see how that works.

Frequency+Top of Mind Awareness=Market Share! Man, I hope the floors aren’t ruined in the kitchen; it would totally suck for Hugh to have to rip them up and replace them. Fucking ice maker! That fridge isn’t even a year old yet; bastards better replace it. I have to pee….Nintendo controls a large share of the video game market, no shit…I hope The Girl likes the pink Nintendo lite thingie-bopper we got her for Christmas….I can’t believe she wanted to ask Santa for an i-Pod….oh, god, I hope she doesn’t know the truth about Santa and wasn’t just asking for an i-pod to trip us up….that would be so sneaky….I have to pee….It’s still snowing, fuck! I guess the trip to the pumpkin patch with Jana and the kids tomorrow is off…Starbucks controls a large share of the coffee market, you don't say!…Hey..they have pumpkin lattes at Starbucks….I like pumpkin lattes....pumpkins are fun, they're so round and orange and stuff...I really need to pee…I currently control a large share of the I Need To Pee market.

So informative.

Finally, it was over and I got to drive back to my office. In the blizzrd. Only to discover that our bathroom is out of order and, I don’t know if I mentioned this but, I had to pee.


I am so looking forward to my “vacation” next week.

Wednesday, October 25, 2006

Much Ado About Nothing

The Man-Cub made it through the day without being teased, taunted or otherwise harassed by the playground bullies yesterday. Obviously they heard that The Girl was gunning for them and, fearing for their very lives, made the wise decision to lay off. Or, they came to the realization that Scouting is super cool they were researching ways to start their very own pack.

Oh, who are we kidding; they were busy teasing the kids from the Math Club.

The important thing is the Man-Cub had a great day and this, despite the fact that his Scout meeting was cancelled due to the illness of his Den Mother’s son. So, to re-cap; the kid got dressed in a uniform that essentially screams Bully me! And went to school were the bullies are and then didn’t even get the payoff of launching rocks from a catapult.

Yet, he had a great day; sometimes, his unflagging optimism puts me to shame.

This is probably why I have such a hard time saying no to him sometimes. Like, say… last night, when he asked to sleep in my bed. In my defense, Hugh was in Milwaukee and I cannot possibly be expected to sleep without someone hogging the covers, snoring in my ear and drooling on the pillow next to me so, acquiescing to his request was also somewhat selfish on my part.

Admitting my own selfishness doesn’t really qualify as much of a defense does it? Fine! He used the puppy-dog eyes and the pouty lip on me, happy?

Also, how is it that I can spell acquiesce without the assistance of Spell-Check yet I still have a hard time with their and to? Mind. Boggling.

Back to the topic of my selfishness; the organizer of one of our community events just called to invite me to speak on the event’s behalf at a budget hearing tonight and I begged off because I have to pick Hugh up at the airport. Which doesn’t exactly qualify as selfish until you consider the fact that his plane doesn’t get in until after ten and the meeting is at 7:30; I just didn’t want to miss Lost.

In other news, I am getting a hair cut today. Well, technically I am getting them all cut, not just one as they have been equally uncooperative and must therefore pay as a group for their disobedience. I can no longer tolerate their shenanigans for we are having a formal family portrait taken the first weekend in November and I must look somewhat presentable.

One place I won’t have to look presentable? Work. That’s right people; it’s time again for Chelle’s Annual Autumn Stay at Home Mother Project! One solid week of baking, car-pooling, volunteering in the classroom and cleaning my house. I can hardly wait and, I say that with not the slightest hint of sarcasm; I really can’t wait.

Ok, fine, you got me; I have also scheduled a full-body massage and I’m looking forward to cracking open my latest bottle of the OPI. Hellooo people, selfish, remember?

Could be worse, I could be teasing Boy Scouts and stealing kids’ lunch money on the playground.

Nah, I might break a nail.

Tuesday, October 24, 2006

Would You Give This Kid A Hard Time?

The Man-Cub has Scouts again today. Sadly, the enthusiasm that he exhibited last week as he dressed in his uniform, was somewhat lacking this morning.

Thanks, bullies.

The Girl also dressed in a uniform this morning; her Peer Mediator tee shirt and hat. She was giddy with excitement about the opportunity to mediate between the Cub and any kid who dares to tease him.

Her definition of mediation is unusaully flexible today since,what she means is, beat the crap out of if necessary.

Hopefully, it won’t come to that since the Principal would have no choice but to take away her mediation privileges. A demotion to a mere citizen of the playground would be devastating; girlfriend really, really likes the tee shirt.

Monday, October 23, 2006

Pink Is My signature Color

I spent part of my weekend educating Jana on 1980’s culture and, y’all; I had never felt older in my life than when Miss Ten Years Younger informed me that she had never seen Steele Magnolias.

Until we followed up with the whole Brat Pack? What’s a brat pack? conversation that is. I cried real tears, then.

If you’re wondering why we were even on the topic; thanks for asking! It came up when Jana asked me to help her with some ideas for a costume for an 80’s party that she and New Hubby are attending later this week. I tried to help. I did; when it became apparent that we were speaking two different languages regarding 80’s attire (bomber jacket? Pegged jeans? Sweater vests? Bueller, Bueller?), I even offered up my old high school year books as visual aids.

My ears are still ringing from the laughter.

It was on the heels of my humiliation (Oh my GOD; is that your hair? It’s huge!), that Miss Still Sucking Her Thumb When I Was French-Kissing the Basketball Captain let it slip that she had never seen Steele Magnolias. Two hours, a box of Kleenex, a bottle of Yellowtail merlot and a plateful of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies later though, that had all changed.

What? You’ve never paired a really good merlot with warm, ooey-gooey, fresh from the oven chocolate chip cookies? You have not lived; go forth and experience; you can thank me later.

The wine, by the way, gets all the credit for Jana confessing that she knew nothing of Madonna: The Like a Virgin Years meaning her first exposure to the material girl was that of the I Dream of Genie pony-tail and the metallic funnel bra which… how sad.

That alone makes up for the comments about my hair.

Friday, October 20, 2006

Is It Propaganda If Chocolate Is Involved?

Our community’s annual amateur photo show started this morning at the local events center. As a sponsor, my organization was invited to set up a table on which we could display the various brochures that we produce each year or, as the Show Chairman likes to call them, my propaganda pieces. Since, I am all about the spreading of propaganda; I was at the event center bright and early to deck my table with brochures galore and enough fall-colored flowers to stock a floral shop. Just in case the sight and smell of the flowers weren't enough to attract people to my table, I strategically placed a few colorfully wrapped chocolate kisses on the table and, by a few; I mean a metric ton, rendering my table the most popular in the room.

As a benefit of being at the show early, I got to view the photos immediately following the judging which is how I know that my pictures won two red ribbons, two white ribbons and a pink ribbon. Of the nine photos I entered, only four failed to at least place which makes me pretty happy.

You know what else makes me happy? Jewelry. So it should come as no surprise that I am quite excited about going to a jewelry party tonight at the home of one of my girlfriends. Who wouldn’t be excited? Jewelry and a party! Pretty baubles, friends and margaritas! It’s the trifecta of happiness for the girlie-girl set of which I am a card-carrying member.

Spell-Check hated that paragraph; Spell-Check is not a member of the girlie-girl set, obviously. Perhaps I shall produce a brochure outlining the merits of joining and mail it to Spell-Check along with a box of chocolates; it isn’t propaganda when chocolate is involved. Which, someone should explain to the political candidates; it would help them immensely when going door to door looking for votes.

Wednesday, October 18, 2006


Yesterday was the Man-Cub’s first Cub Scout meeting. In the morning, he stood proudly in front of the mirror in my bedroom in his uniform, shoulders back, head held high and compared himself to a soldier in the military at which point his sister entered the room and positively squeed over him; You are just precious!

I’m not entirely certain that precious was the look he was going for exactly.

When I picked the kids up at the school later in the afternoon, I inquired as to how their day had gone. The Girl gleefully filled me in on how sucessful her day as a Peer Mediator had been (she stopped two fights! Single handed!) and crowed about how well she had done on the previous night's math homework despite my obvious inferiority at 5th grade math (common denominator? The hell? Did I even learn that in the 5th grade?)

The Cub's day did not go quite as well; he somewhat reluctantly admitted that several of the older boys had teased him and his fellow Scouts about their uniforms during recess, which kind of sucked the wind right out of the sails on the good ship Cub Scout. I tried to convince him that they were just jealous of his cool neckerchief but he wasn’t buying it. Finally, I told him that, should they repeat their taunting next week, he should tell them that being a Scout was preparing him for his future career in the Secret Service and that he had already learned three hundred ways to kill a man with his bare hands. Without leaving a mark. And, without a sound.

Let us hope that The Girl is assigned to mediate next Tuesday's recesses, otherwise, my son is so going to get beat up on the playground.

Tuesday, October 17, 2006

Soul Sistah

Jules, my best friend in the world, lost her brother last week. She is heartbroken and heartsick and I wish that there was something-anything-that I could do to ease her pain. Sadly, I’ve learned enough about life to know that Grief is its own master; its only foes are time and love and, while I can’t predict how much of the former she will need, I have plenty of the latter and it is all hers. I owe her that, and more.
Jules is my soul sister; she knows everything there is to know about me and she loves me anyway. She is the rarest and most precious of friends; the one who stood by me through the very best and the very worst. I have known her virtually all my life. My earliest memories are of her and her family sitting in the pew in front of my family in St. Joseph’s Catholic Church every Sunday morning at the 10:00 a.m. mass. Jules was five years younger than I and had something I wanted desperately; brothers. Many a Sunday I sat and fantasized about having brothers of my own. Not that I was jealous, just...envious. Also, Jules had the hair. It hung down to her ass and was thick and naturally wavy. The color can best be described as a beautiful brown with red highlights that shined like a penny in the sunlight. In case you couldn't tell, I loved Jules’ hair; I actually sat in the house of God and envied her that hair with all my heart. Then, one Sunday, Jules came to church with a new haircut; a DOROTHY HAMMIL PIXIE CUT and I was mortified. Seriously. Even now, scenes from Mommy Dearest flash through my mind when I think about that haircut. I often lose sleep wondering what in the world could have possessed her mother to inflict such a horror upon her only daughter. Granted, Jules was probably none too impressed with her new do, either, but I was traumatized. In all honesty, if I could have grown hair like that I would have locked myself in a tower and called myself freakin’ Rapunzel and it was just…gone.
Not gone? My issues, clearly.
And, I digress.
No matter what her hairstyle (she’s had quite a few since and they have all been gorgeous), I owe a lot to Jules. She is the person who dragged my emotionally wrecked ass through the worst year of my life. She was the one who ran my bath, poured my wine, plopped my ass in the tub and took care of my babies when I was incapable of attending to my own needs let alone those of an infant and a toddler. She stood beside me through a very messy time in my marriage and she did it with grace and style. Hugh also owes a huge debt to Jules; she was the one friend who was able to support me in forgiving him and in moving forward with our marriage without recrimination and, because of that, she and Hugh are close today. Not too many people have a friend like Jules. If you do, consider yourself lucky and cherish her. I know I do.
In this life, I was blessed with three sisters, two were born from the same womb as I; one was born in my heart and that is Jules.
And I will be there for her now and always.
All my love, Jules. All my life.

Monday, October 16, 2006

I Missed You. What Did You Bring Me?

These are the first words I usually hear from my children upon returning from a business trip as per instructions outlined in chapter twelve of The Childhood Manual for Annoying One’s Parent. The only reason I didn’t hear those words first this time was purely accidental, and, I mean that literally.

Following a four and a half hour journey, I was called to the school to pick The Girl up from after-school programs early on Friday due to an accident. She wasn’t injured in the accident; she inadvertently caused it when one of the fifth grade boys, who was sprinting around the classroom, tripped over her foot. The boy fell into the doorjamb headfirst and the resulting gash required fourteen stitches to repair. The accompanying blood and gore was the topic of conversation among the after-schoolers, I assure you.

Which didn’t much impress The Girl who was beside herself with guilt although it was, as the teacher, the ambulance crew, her father, the kid’s parents and the damn kid himself, assured her repeatedly, an accident and not in any way her fault. Nonetheless, she was well on her way to making herself sick from crying by the time Hugh called me on my cell phone.

It just happened that I had pulled into our garage moments earlier. I had been looking forward to an undisturbed hour in which I could unpack and decompress before retrieving my offspring but alas, it was not to be. Instead, I raced to the school to console my daughter who wanted nothing more than to just go home, already.

Which, we did.

The rest of the weekend was thankfully less eventful.

Saturday morning, I got up early to get the Man-Cub ready for our community’s annual cancer walk which he was attending with Emily. I usually participate in the walk but, The Girl was scheduled to attend two birthday parties that day and I still had shopping to do, so I was grateful to Emily for taking the Cub.

The rest of the day was really just a blur of car-pooling. The Girl was delivered to the first party, then picked up and delivered to the second party which was a sleep-over. Groceries were purchased. The Man-Cub was picked up and, later that evening, Hugh and I drove the three of us to the theater to see The Guardian or, as I kept referring to it, An Officer and a Gentleman, The Water Version. Not to imply that it wasn’t a good movie; it was. I just kept expecting Ashton Kutcher to start wailing “I’ve got nowhere else to goooo!” ala Richard Gere, at any second.

Sunday was a nice quiet day. I caught up on our laundry, framed the photos that I will be entering in the annual photo contest this weekend and made dinner from a recipe in Rachael Ray’s 365: No Repeats-A Year of Deliciously Different Dinners. It was recipe number 223, Bacon wrapped steaks with mushroom, onion and Gouda stuffed potatoes. Hugh raved about the steaks because he is a remorseless carnivore. I personally loved the potatoes and will make them again before I make the steaks. I am less carnivore than, um…poultry-vore.

Or whatever.

Also, Gouda is fun to say.

In fact, the next time the children ask what I brought home for them; Gouda shall be my answer.

They'll never see that coming.

Tuesday, October 10, 2006

What If He Forgets To Pick Up The Children?

Tomorrow morning, I leave for a conference at a ski resort four and a half hours away. I would be lying if I denied that a small part of me is looking forward to three days in a one-bedroom condominium on the ski slopes so, I won’t. In fact, I will readily admit that I am eagerly anticipating the peace and solitude, not to mention having sole possession of the remote control and ordering room service, ah, glorious room service! Fresh coffee delivered to my room each morning! A wine and cheese nightcap, perhaps? Room service, glorious room service; how I covet thee!

But, let’s not get carried away.

The children are almost as excited about my trip as I am. I don’t take it personally. They are merely well aware that their father is, how shall I say…somewhat less strict than I am in regards to certain parenting rules, rules regarding bedtimes, vegetable eating and television viewing, to be specific and they take full advantage of it when I travel for business. This is reason numero uno that I feel no guilt whatsoever in enjoying myself while I am away.

It didn’t always used to be this way; when the children were smaller, the guilt gnawed at me like a bulimic super-model on a fried chicken leg. Not only did I miss them but I worried constantly about whether or not Hugh was feeding them (he was; junk food is still food) and if they were dressed appropriately which was a justifiable fear since my husband engages in an especially haphazard method for determining what constitutes appropriate school attire:

1) Open drawer.
2) Grab first article of clothing that comes into contact with hand.

Thankfully, I can cross this particular fear off the Master List O’ Terror since The Girl is now old enough to dress herself and the Man-Cub can always blame bad outfits on his recently diagnosed color-blindness.

I also worried about Hugh getting them to daycare on time and about him forgetting to remind them to brush their teeth for three days in a row, allowing the evil gingivitis to gain a stronghold on their delicate gum lines.

I guess it’s good that they are growing up; these days, I just worry that they won’t miss me as much as I’ll still miss them.

And, I will miss them.

Not even room service and an uninterrupted episode of Lost can change that.

Monday, October 09, 2006

Foam Fingers Not Required

When everyone else was complaining about the rain on Friday, I pointed out that we needed the moisture. The rain rewarded me by causing several large leaks in the ceiling of the hardware store which meant that Hugh had to stay late hanging plastic tarps to protect the merchandise. And that sucked, except …no football game. While I was pretty happy about missing a chance to sit on hard bleachers in the pouring rain, I do admit that I felt badly for Hugh. So badly in fact, that I didn’t protest too loudly when he wanted to watch Friday Night Lights on DVD later that night.

At least we were dry.

The movie wasn’t too bad, actually. It reminded me a little bit of high school; not because our school was all football crazy like the idiots on the movie, but because, like in the movie, our band always played at the home games and, next to almost being run over by the entire football team while executing a complicated cheerleading maneuver on the field junior year, the dance routine that we did as the band played the school song is my most vivid memory of high school football.

Wow. If only our receivers had run as well as that last sentence, we would’ve taken state.

Anyway, speaking of my high school band; this weekend there was a band Competition in our neighboring city. I know this, not because I still follow high school band competitions (what kind of a freak do you think I am?) but because I actually passed the band busses from my hometown as they were heading to the competition on Friday.

I was surprised (see above: not following high school band competitions) and, dare I say, excited to see them. So excited in fact that I pulled up beside the equipment truck, honked my horn and pumped my fist in the air while making whoo, whoo, whoo sounds at the driver who just happened to be the band director-the same band director who was in charge back when I was in school. At first he looked at me like who is this crazy-assed Arsenio Hall impersonating jack-ass? Then he recognized me and, I’m sure, it all fell into place for him. But, he smiled and waved, nonetheless.

Now, when I was in high school, our band was the Sate Champion for, like eight years running. You didn’t have to be a geek to be in band, band was cool. I didn’t play an instrument; I was a flag girl which sounds pretty pansy, I know but, much like with cheerleading, there was a very short skirt involved, not to mention thigh-high leather boots with three inch heels.

I can’t help it! I had good legs!

Anyway, band trips? Were fun. In a way that only a half-assed chaperoned overnight stay in a hotel with members of the opposite sex-one of which was your slide-trombone playing boyfriend- can be fun. Which is to say-a lot.

But, enough tripping down memory lane.

The rest of my weekend was nice. I accomplished everything on my to do list and then some. The weather cleared up enough on Saturday for the Man-Cub to attend an outdoor birthday party while The Girl and I ran all over town looking for the patches that he will need for his scout uniform. Luckily, I found all but one of the required patches. Even better, I called Emily and totally conned her into sewing them onto his uniform so that I don’t have to!

Note to self: Flattery will get you everywhere.

One of the stores that sells scouting patches also sells Levis and, since we had time to kill, I decided to try on a pair. The last time I bought Levis was, oh, I don't know, thirty pounds ago? So, when I managed to fit into a pair of 501's with a 28inch waist, I heard a choir of heavenly angels sing. At least, I think I did. It could have been a hallucination caused by a lack of oxygen due to holding my breath while buttoning them.

But, I bought them anyway.

Then, I went to the park to pick up the Cub from the birthday party, where in keeping with our weekend theme, I discovered that the main entertainment was a rousing game of….football!

Note to the birthday boy’s mother: Shirts and Skins in October? Not a good way to earn the love of your fellow mothers.

Of course, allowing children to run amok with six-shooters and swords while swearing in Pirate is probably not all that mommy-kosher either, so…we shall not speak of this again.

Since the kids were such good sports about not going to the promised football game on Friday, Hugh decided to take us all to see Open Season at the theater Saturday night. The movie was pretty good and we had our fill of popcorn and candy so, yay.

On the way home, we passed a school bus which reminded me of the band busses so I told Hugh my story about seeing them. Then, as I was replaying some of my finer memories from high school band trips, I noticed his eyes glaze over and, figuring I was losing my audience, I took the story up a notch.

Chelle: So, as I was passing the equipment truck, I honked the horn and flashed my boobs for luck. I bet they won.
Hugh: You think?
Chelle: Absolutely. The power of boobies compelled them.
Hugh: Boobies are powerful.

I’m going to remember that the next time he wants to watch a sport-related DVD when I want to see a romance.

Friday, October 06, 2006

NOT Taking One For The Team

Tonight is our local high school’s homecoming football game and Hugh promised the children ages ago that he would take them. It has been raining to beat the band all day and a sane person would totally welch on that promise and instead, take his children out for Chinese and a movie.

Hugh by the way? Insane. Not only will he make good on the promise, but he’ll make every effort to guilt me into going with them and, while I’m all in favor of my offspring showing their school spirit, yada, yada, yada, I have no interest in freezing my delicate ass off in the pouring rain as the temperatures dip.

Thanks, but, no thanks.

But, since I know the man, and I know he will persist in his demands that I accompany them, I am mentally preparing my argument. I predict it going a little something like this:

Hugh: You should totally come; it’ll be a family thing.
Chelle: Cleaning the house could be a family thing; what are you all doing tomorrow? Besides, newsflash; I hate football.
Hugh: You were a cheerleader in high school.
Chelle: Cheerleading was all about the skirt, dear; not the sport. Besides, have you looked outside? It is pouring.
Hugh: What, you think you might melt?
Chelle: Exactly; sugar does, you know.

I’m totally ready for him.


I hope he at least buys me a big foam finger.

Thursday, October 05, 2006

Taking One For The Team

Yesterday, the Man-Cub came home from school with a nasty scratch on his arm. When I asked him how he got it, he told me that one of his classmates, let’s call him Cameron (for that is his name) had scratched him. The Girl then piped up with, as Paul Harvey would say, the rest of the story…..

….Cameron, it appears, was calling The Girl names. Nasty, foul names that have no business being in a second-grader's vocabulary and, the Man-Cub had risen to her defense which is when Cameron-hereto after to be known as CaMORON 'cause, god, what a moron-turned totally sissy and scratched the Man-Cub's arm before turning tail and running away like the candy-ass he is.

“It was so cool, Mom! The Man-Cub stood up to CaMORON and told him not to call his sister names! He was. Like, totally defending me!”

To which the Cub merely shrugged and said “No one calls my sister names.” And, as he turned to look out the window, “Except me.”

I am so proud.

Tuesday, October 03, 2006

Tae Kwon “Doh!”

The first Tuesday of each month is Program Day for my woman’s club and today’s program was presented by the local Tae Kwon Do club which means that I got to spend an hour of my busy day watching elementary school-age kids run around in their pajamas, kicking each other. Seriously, y’all, I can watch that at home. To say I was slightly bored would be a tremendous understatement and, were it not for the fact that I had a Board meeting immediately following the program, I would have gotten up and left. The Board meeting was all that kept me in my seat, really.

The possibility that a tae kwon do crazed elementary school kid might tap-dance all over me in her bare feet if I dared attempt escape never even entered my mind.


I know, I know, how old am I?

Just about old enough for puberty, if the blemishes on my face are any indication. It’s embarrassing, folks; my chin is hosting the zit version of Woodstock, minus the tie-dye shirts and reefer.

On a happier note, the damage to my car was even more minor than we originally thought. We actually won’t need to replace the dented hubcap since, upon inspection; we discovered that it is made of plastic rather than of metal and the dent popped right out! I know! Isn’t it comforting to know that the cars we spend tens of thousands of dollars on are made of such a pliable material? Why, if a tae kwon do crazed elementary kid was to kick my car door? That dent would pop right out.

They should have demonstrated that nifty trick at the program. It would have made the whole thing ever so much more interesting and might have drawn attention away from Zitapalooza on my chin.

I said might have.

Monday, October 02, 2006

Starting the Day Off With a Bang

This morning I discovered that I possess two super powers. The first is invisibility and I discovered it when an elderly woman turned right into my car without ever even realizing that I was there. Invisibility is not all it’s cracked up to be.

Luckily, I also appear to have super lightning fast reflexes and I was able to jerk my car to the right while accelerating, managing to escape all but minor damage to the back wheel-well of my car.

To recap; invisibility, bad. Super-human speed, good.

Unfortunately, Hugh was impressed with neither super power and was even less impressed with my lack of common sense considering the fact that I didn’t report the accident right away. In my defense, the accident occurred right in front of an automotive repair shop where the son of the woman who had hit me happens to work. Her son, who just so happens to know my husband, immediately claimed responsibility for the repairs on my car, repairs, I remind you, which will be quite minor. The woman was very upset about the whole ordeal; she had been turning into the repair shop to visit her son and really had just not seen me which, duh, invisibility, and I just didn’t feel the need to upset her further. Plus, her car sustained far greater damage than mine.

I did end up filing a report with the police department but I declined to press charges so the woman won’t get a ticket. I have every faith that her son will fix my hubcap and the trim around my wheel-well which is really all the damage that was done and I think we can all just move forward.

Of course, I am going to have to put some energy into controlling my super-powers in the future.

In less climactic news, my weekend was absolutely fabulous.

In case you were eagerly awaiting my review, Hugh and I watched The Lake House and, while it did not suck, it also does not make my top-ten list of favorite movies.

Hmm. That was actually a pretty disappointing review, I suppose. Hey, try reading it again only, this time, imagine yourself reading it in the Movie Guy’s voice. Better, no?


So, Saturday, Jana and I took the kids to the mountains for a picnic. The weather absolutely could not have been better and the trees were gorgeous. We spread a blanket under a couple of aspens and enjoyed sandwiches, cheese and crackers and a bottle of Pinot Grigio while the kids built a small fort with downed limbs and underbrush.

I should clarify; the kids drank hot chocolate, not wine. apparently, Social Services frowns on the underage drinking thing. See? I do have common sense! Would someone please let Hugh know? Thanks!

Where was I? Oh, yes, it felt so good to relax! Jana and I caught up on each other’s lives and made plans for additional get-togethers later in the season and it was just…..nice. I haven’t been that still for some time and I really appreciated the natural beauty surrounding us.

And the wine was tasty. Not that any of the kids would know!

On our way back down the mountain, we stopped underneath a stand of ancient pines to gather pinecones. When we got back to my house, we set the kids up on the front porch with a jar of peanut butter and a large bag of birdseed so they could make feeders for the birds. They turned out quite well and we now have the pleasure of watching our feathered friends dine in our yard.

Have I mentioned lately how very much I love my wrap-around porch? I totally do. If it had lips, I would totally make out with it and I can’t wait to host our annual pumpkin carving party on it later this month.

Sunday, Hugh worked for the police department and the kids entertained a friend from the neighborhood (on the porch, I might add. Soon, they too, will want to make out with the porch). I did my usual Sunday chores and also had a visit from Oscar and Emily, who are just back from their visit with family in Maine. It was a pleasant afternoon.

No, really. It actually was.

The rest of the evening was nice as well. Hugh's one and only sister called and we had a long chat. Hugh had taken a routine traffic call during the day which turned out to be anything but routine; he arrested five people and confiscated a large amount of rock cocaine, so I had to get the play-by-play of the arrest. Then, The Girl and I watched the Amazing Race and Desperate Housewives while we soaked our feet in a tingly peppermint foot bath. The Girl is still chewing her fingernails, which drives her father absolutely insane so, before I sent her to bed, I polished them in the vain hope that the nail polish will deter her habit. Time will tell.

Unfortunately, I did not get the ability to see into the future in addition to my other super powers.

What a rip-off.