Tuesday, July 31, 2007

Mission Accomplished, No Arrests Made.

It took forty-five minutes, one hell of a big saw, a crowbar and a giant sledgehammer but; Hugh recovered the impression of The Girl’s feet from the sidewalk in front of the aquatics center. We are now the proud owners of a hunk of cement twelve inches square by five inches thick and weighing eighty pounds. We are so proud.

My reunion weekend was a total blast. I got to see a number of my classmates, we got reaquainted with one another over drinks at the cocktail mixer and carried it throughout the parade party, picnic and formal dinner (at which we dined on the worst roast beast in the history of meat, I swear). I also got the satisfaction of knowing that, while the results of Operation Hottie By July were not all I had hoped for, due to the ravages visited upon some of my peers by alcohol and drugs; I was hot by default.

Hey, I’ll take it. Also, clean living is in, you heard it here first.

Still, three days of parades, rodeos, dances, concerts, class picnics and reunion dinners kicked my ass. I am exhausted. It was totally worth it, of course. Aside from the reunion fun; getting the chance to catch up with Phoebe and Jules was awesome. We blabbed and gabbed for hours and that is no exaggeration, I promise. I also screwed up the courage to chat with The Man Who Was the Boy at one of the rodeos and he is doing remarkably well. On an aside, I opened the conversation with something along the lines of “Hey, sorry it took your brain attacking you to get me to say hello after sixteen years but, um, yeah.”

I admit it was a wee bit awkward but; his short-term memory was affected by the stroke so he’s probably forgotten it by now anyway.

Yes, yes, I know; I’m going to burn in Hell, yada-yada.

In other news, my kids stayed in Mayberry with my parents for the next week. Hugh and I aren’t quite sure what to do with ourselves; last night we sat on the couch staring at each other like “O-kay...what now?” Hugh suggested fornication but, we were both pretty tired so…not so much.

Clean living aside; we are old. But, not too old to show sidewalks who's the boss.

Friday, July 27, 2007

Could This Vacation Be Any Better?

My best friend, Jules, arrived from California yesterday for a surprise visit. She came to help me get my drunk on and to spoil my children both of which she proceeded to do, immediately. In addition, she brought one of her girlfriends from California with her and, judging by his full-on flirt attack at last night’s Neal McCoy concert; I think my son has developed a huge crush on her. At least he has good taste because she is a doll and, you know, delightfully snarky.

As an aside, during the concert Neal McCoy played a cover of Wild Cherry's Funky Music and my children knew every word of the lyrics and jammed out like rock stars; who's got geeky taste in music, now, Hugh? Huh? That's what I thought.

Back to the subject of The Snark, having Jules here gives me someone to people-watch with and, since she is possibly even better at the Snark than I am; we are having quite the fabulous time. At the dance following the concert, we spent several hours critiquing the many, many bad boob jobs on display. And, while I am on the subject, what is up with that? As a fairly well-endowed person who began the battle against gravity at a tender age; I cannot begin to fathom why anyone would want to purchase boobs far larger than that which their body frame can support. On the other hand, in five years, those girls are going to be mopping the floor with those puppies just like I will be so; I guess we’ll have something in common. We can trade advice about miracle bras and hoists and such.

In other news, we learned that the aquatics center I used to run is slated for demolition later this fall. That makes me very sad since I not only worked there as an adult but spent many a summer day there during my childhood. Also, when a new sidewalk was being poured in front of the building in 1996, my daughter’s feet were forever immortalized in the cement. She was four or five months old at the time and I will never forget my boss swooping her up out of her crib and racing outside to get her imprints before the cement set; he and his Parks foreman struggled to keep her tiny little toes from scrunching together and ruining the impression and my boss kept hollering “Gentle, gentle! Don’t pinch her piggies, man!” while she looked at them both like they were completely insane.

Good times.

And, just between you and me, Internet; Hugh is bringing a concrete saw when he comes to town this afternoon and we are totally taking back my daughter’s feet. Jules has predicted that we are all going to get arrested but, she also admits that it wouldn’t be the first time so, yeah.

Like I said, could this vacation get any better? I think not.

Wednesday, July 25, 2007

Live From Mayberry

Yesterday’s trip was mostly uneventful save for a bout of carsickness suffered by The Girl. She was courteous enough not to puke in the new car and for that I am most grateful. Also, I will forgive her criticism of my chosen travel music because no child of mine could possibly dis the musical stylings of The Partridge Family, Wild Cherry, and Lynard Skynard unless they were ill.

Anyway, we are well ensconced in Grandparentsville and the spoiling has begun. This morning, The Man-Cub requested, and received, pancakes and eggs over-easy. The Girl is still sleeping and it is well past the time that she should be up. I am drinking a cup of coffee that I didn’t have to make and there is a good possibility that I won’t have to clean out the coffee pot.

Life is so good right now.

Later today, I am meeting one of my college roomies for lunch. I’ve decided that she needs a name since College Roomie is tiresome to type and because there are five other lovely ladies who can claim the title as well which, could get quite confusing on the rare occasions that we are all together. So, she needs a name and, obviously I can’t use her real name what with all the crazies on the internet and all. So, I suppose the Christian thing to do would be to ask her what she wants me to call her, but, since we all know that the last time I darkened the threshold of a church was ages ago; I’m going to call her Phoebe.

It is my blog after all. Besides, she has always reminded my dad of Phoebe from Friends and she has been known to answer him when he calls her that which means; she totally brought this on herself.

After lunch with Phoebe, my mom and I are going antiquing and then, who knows? After all, part of the pleasure of being on an unplanned and unscheduled vacation is not knowing what will happen next.

Speaking of; The Man-Cub just informed me that he accidentally dropped one of his eggs in his lap. He was wearing nothing but his underwear (apparel allowed at the breakfast table by Grandparents, apparently) and he now has “Eggs on his junk. Eggs on his junk, Mom! What is he supposed to do now?!”


Like I said, life is so good right now.

Monday, July 23, 2007

Locked and Loaded

Tahoe washed and vacuumed, check.
Oil changed, fluids checked, gas tank filled, check.
Manicures and pedicures for The Girl and myself, check.
Kids’ suitcases packed, check.
Hugh instructed to feed the cat and water the tomato plants, check.
Board members instructed to leave me the hell alone, check.
iPod playlist downloaded, check.
Case of fresh local sweet corn ordered for morning delivery, check.

I guess I’m ready to leave tomorrow!

Except for packing my own suitcase, that is.

A full week of eating my mother's home cooking, sleeping past six a.m., sunning myself in their backyard while reading a good book, watching my children enjoy the company of their grandparents and cousins and re-connecting with old classmates while memorizing snarky details to later share with my younger sister....

.....can you say, squee!?

Friday, July 20, 2007

And Lo, the Weekend Cometh

Come 4:00 this afternoon, the shackle around my ankle magically unlocks and I begin my much needed and, much anticipated, vacation. Can I get a hallelujah!

Now, the actual travel portion of the vacation won’t begin until Tuesday but; I’ve got a lot of stuff to get done between now and then. Like, say laundry. Because, unlike my children; my preferred wardrobe for travel actually includes clean clothing. I know! What a concept!

Speaking of travel; I would love to say that we are headed for the tropics or to a lovely seaside village in Italy but, no. We are headed to Mayberry for my 20th High School reunion. And, by we; I mean the children and myself since Hugh has to work until Friday at which point he will join us at my parent’s house.

I actually don’t mind making the two-and-a-half-hour drive without him since it gives me an opportunity to bond with the children and, by bonding, I mean slapping headphones on them as they watch movies on the DVD player so I can play my music way too loudly while singing, also way too loudly. And, you know, badly.

I’m looking forward to the trip for a number of reasons. For one, I get to see one of my college roomies and her family. Also, time spent with my parents is always enjoyable. And, while I leave secure in the knowledge that Operation Hottie by July was a spectacular failure; I also have the satisfaction of knowing that Starbucks and Krispie Kreme can claim higher earnings for this quarter.

I’m sure they know they have me to thank for that, by the way (also: must remember to buy stock in Starbucks and Krispie Kreme).

My reunion should be a blast or, at the very least will provide gossip fodder for me to write about for at least a week.

I’m sure you all thank me for that too, by the way.

Of course, were it not for the reunion, I totally would go to some aforementioned tropical island or to a fabulous Italian village. Unfortunately, I would have to do so without the Man-Cub as only Hugh, The Girl and I are in possession of official documentation that would enable us to actually get back into the country following our glorious vacation. The Man-Cub’s passport appears to be lost somewhere in the fantabulous clusterfuck that is the United States passport system and I would be lying if I said that I wasn't becoming the slightest bit anxious about that fact.

The Cub isn’t the least bit concerned however; last night, I teased him about the possibility that he might be left home alone while his sister, father and I jetted off to some exotic locale and he shrugged his shoulders and reminded me to buy Oreos before I left. Oh, and if it wasn’t too much trouble, could I put fresh batteries in the TV remote? Great, thanks.

I’m sure he was hurting. On the inside.

Thursday, July 19, 2007

Look Who Came to Visit

I am in awe.

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

God Is Good and the Grapevine Sucks

Contrary to what the Mayberry Grapevine had to say (oh my god! He’s on the verge of death! He’s going to be a vegetable for the rest of his life!); the man who was The Boy is doing well. He was even released from the hospital and allowed to go home which, come to think of it, is information that also comes courtesy of the Mayberry Grapevine so, really, who the fuck knows?

But! I prefer to think happy thoughts.

Also, I prayed hard, y’all and the Lord did not disappoint which means I should probably do something godly in return like, um….give up cussing or start tithing on a regular basis.

Right. I’ll get right on that.

Hugh will be thrilled to hear this latest development. And, by that, I mean the development about The Boy's health, not about my sudden ban on cussing (Hugh likes the salty wench side of me thankyouverymuch) or about my decision to start pledging ten percent of our monthly income to the holy Catholic church. He will welcome the good news about the Boy's health because, since I first heard about The Boy’s aneurysm, or stroke, or whatever it is they finally decided to call it; I have been acting as though Hugh is the next in line for a heart attack or something. Seriously, I made him promise to stop eating bacon, people. And, Hugh likes his bacon.

So, to recap:
The man who was The Boy, much healed.
The Mayberry Grapevine, total suckage.
God, freaking awesome.
Bacon, back on the menu. Maybe.

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

Put It In a Memo

Memo to: Co-Worker I
From: Chelle
Cc: Co-Worker II, Co-Worker III, Volunteer Personnel
Re: File for Future Reference

Our workplace encourages Courtesy Flushing as a rule. My enjoyment of our local sweet corn will be forever ruined by the sight that greeted me in the staff restroom this morning.

Because that is exactly what I needed today. NOT.

Monday, July 16, 2007

Dream a Little Dream of Me

Hugh was not the first love of my life. Shocking, I know, but true, nevertheless.

Last night I dreamed about The Boy. The one who first stole my heart and it took me back to a time when the most important things in my life were The Boy, my friends, my wardrobe, my cassette collection and my family. Pretty much in that order.

Because, hell, yes; I was shallow.

And young, sixteen going on seventeen. The Boy, for his part, was four days shy of his eighteenth birthday, which at the time seemed so mature to me. Now, technically, I had known him for years and years; it was, after all, a small town and we attended the same schools. I would have to have been dead not to be aware of who he was, but for romantic purposes, let us just say that we met the fateful autumn of 1985. Ok? Great.

The Boy had taken notice of me that fall (most likely due to the short nature of my cheerleading skirt although he always denied it) and had wrangled a date with me through mutual friends. You know the drill, my best friend was dating his best friend and, if The Boy and I dated we would fall in love and get married and we would all buy houses next door to each other and raise our babies together and we would all be 2gether 4ever!

Or something like that.

However, while The Boy was a looker, my sights were already set on a boy from the rival school, so I had little interest in dating “one of my own”. I only agreed to the date for my friend’s sake, and, ok, because I wanted to make the other boy jealous.

This didn’t work, by the way. I am sure he was gay. How else could he have escaped the charms of my little cheerleading skirt?

And, I digress.

Our first date was on September 14, 1985. If you are having trouble believing that I can remember the exact date; you will really have a hard time believing that I can remember exactly what I was wearing. But, I do.

On the date, we accompanied our mutual best friends to a school dance where they unceremoniously dumped us to have sex in the car. So, it should have been awkward, but it wasn’t. It was, in fact, the most comfortable evening of my life (all sixteen years of it). We danced that night and there was no hesitation in the steps, no ripple in the fluidity in which we moved, I felt graceful that night on that gym floor, like I had never felt graceful before.

Little did I know when he walked me home that night; that I was writing a chapter in the book of my life. But, how could I have known?

We talked on my parent’s front porch that night until way past our curfews. We talked about everything and anything; I suspected, even then, that we were trying to post-pone the inevitable moment when we would have to part. Funny, the things that I remember from that night.

The moon was full, a harvest moon. It got quite cool as we stood there and he put his varsity athlete’s jacket around my shoulders to keep away the chill. We could have gone inside but I remember not wanting to. I did not want to share him, to share that moment in time with my parents or my sisters. I wanted it to myself. And I didn’t even know what it was yet. Not then.

The hours flew by. I was thoroughly entertained by him; The Boy was smart. He was funny. He was sweet and he was handsome. And he smelled so damn good; like clothing dried in the sunshine.

When he left, I missed him. I denied it, though. I told my friend that the date had been “ok”. I was still determined to catch the other boy.

My mind was set. Totally set.

My heart overruled.

After that first night, The Boy and I were inseparable.

Months later, on a cold winter night, in the front seat of his Ford pick-up; he told me that he loved me. My head laughed at his boyish declaration; it was too early, we were too young. This was crazy talk.

But, my heart. My heart swelled to three times its normal size; cutting off oxygen to my head until it saw reason. My heart knew.

My heart kicks ass and takes names.

I loved him. And, I continued to love him for the next six years so, overall; I would say that first date went pretty well.

Last night, he was smiling in my dream; he smelled like sunshine.

I love my husband and my children. I love the life that I have chosen. I love the person that I have become; I am not perfect, I have flaws, but they are my flaws and I embrace them.
My head recognizes that The Boy wrote part of the history of me; the lessons he taught me were invaluable and, for that, there can be no regrets.

And, sometimes, my heart misses The Boy.

The man that The Boy grew up to be isn’t someone that I know well. In fact, I don’t know him at all so, when my mom called me yesterday to tell me that he had suffered an aneurysm and was not doing well, I was surprised at how sad it made me and, obviously; that is why I dreamt about him last night.

If you are of the praying sort, please say a prayer for the man who was The Boy and for his family. As you may recall, they lost his brother in May and I cannot imagine the heartache that another loss of this magnitude would mean for his parents and siblings, not to mention for his own two young sons.

I really can't.

On that note, remember when this blog used to be funny? Yeah, me neither.

Friday, July 13, 2007

Not Your Average Bear

I love yoga. I’ve been practicing the discipline for the past two years and feel that I have benefited greatly from the increased strength and flexibility that it has provided me. Hugh, not placing much faith in Eastern medicine, scoffed at the notion that it could prove beneficial to him as well, but; I insisted that it could, especially considering the lower-back problems that he has been experiencing since being involved in a car accident a number of years ago.

A couple of nights ago, I finally convinced him to give yoga a shot and, as the children looked on in amusement, we proceeded to run through a number of poses and transitions.

The following day, Hugh was extremely sore. And, you know pissed.

But! I convinced him that the soreness was a sign that his body needed to continue with the practice and that, in time, he would be limber and free of pain. And, since he is a sucker; he believed me and agreed to try again last night and.....

....he could barely get out of bed this morning which leads me to believe that he is probably not destined to become a yogi.

His children, on the other hand, just might be.

And they totally get that from their mother.

Thursday, July 12, 2007

Love Never Dies

A few weeks ago, The Girl and I were sitting in our rocking chairs on the front porch, quietly soaking in the warmth of a beautiful summer day. As we rocked side by side, she turned to me, tears in her eyes and said “I miss Brandon”.

Not knowing what else to say, I nodded my head and said “I know you do.”

The Girl stood and walked to the porch railing and leaned her head against a support column. Seemingly out of nowhere, a blue dragonfly appeared and landed on the railing next to her.

The Girl didn’t notice it at first and, as she continued to stare out at the yard, lost in her thoughts, I watched the dragonfly inch slowly closer to her. It sat there for quite some time, wings still, barely moving at all and I wondered to myself, when was the last time I had seen a dragonfly land on something and stay?

That would be never.

I then asked myself when was the last time I even saw a metallic blue dragonfly in our yard?

Once again, that would be never.

After several minutes, The Girl noticed the dragonfly and bent down to examine it. The dragonfly did not immediately fly away as one would expect but, instead, inched ever so much closer to The Girl and, the two stayed like that, examining each other for several additional minutes before The Girl stood upright at which point, the dragonfly zoomed away into the sunshine.

The Girl stood motionless for a moment, smiling to herself before turning to me and saying “Blue always was Brandon’s favorite color.”

Then, she went inside, leaving me with goosebumps racing up and down my arms.

Several days later, Brandon’s mom came by the house to see The Girl and to drop off the turtle figurine that Brandon had purchased for her in Mexico last November.

Unfortunately, The Girl was at a friend’s house and so she missed the visit but Hugh and I spent several minutes with her, and, as she was leaving, Hugh encouraged me to tell her the story of the dragonfly. I hesitated at first, not quite sure how she would receive it but, decided to tell her anyway and, as I related the story, she grew more and more teary-eyed until, at one point, she gasped and her hand flew to her mouth. Then, she began to sob.

And I thought; great idea, Hugh.

It was ok, though. She had a story of her own.

The day after Brandon died; a blue dragonfly appeared in her yard and, as of that day, had not left. It hovered near her whenever she was outside and had landed and actually sat still long enough for them to photograph it.

I hugged her and we cried together for several minutes. We agreed that it would be just like Brandon to visit in some form, if he was capable of doing so, and it in no way surprised us that he would pick something fast and shiny.

The night before last, Brandon’s mom picked The Girl up for a visit to the cemetery. While they were at Brandon’s gravesite, neither of them was the least bit surprised to see a metallic blue dragonfly hovering nearby.

And it made them both smile.

Wednesday, July 11, 2007

What the…..Green?

Seriously, after all that discussion about flaming casts; the Man-Cub chose a green one. He said he picked it because green is his sister’s favorite color and because seeing it every day will make her happy. Which, leads me to wonder what she has on him and how long it will take her to tattle.

So, it's green. And, aside from being green (Green! Wha?!), the cast is also waterproof; something I did not know even existed! The modern world of orthopedic medicine is a phenomenal thing, I must say. For, now; the Cub is free to swim with the other children on the daycare's Tuesday field trips to the local pool. He can run through the sprinklers without fear and, thank ya lord jezus, he can shower regularly! With, like, shampoo and everything!

I'm so choked up, just, bear with me....whew, better!

You know, for just a second; I even considered letting him take his previously-planned swimming lessons. And, were it not a fact that the weight of the cast would throw off his stroke, resulting in something hideous; I might have allowed it. But, yeah, not so much, once a bad-swimming habit has been developed, it is really hard to break and I cannot allow a child of mine to have anything less than a perfect stroke.

And, yes, five summers of swim team when I was a child left me completely broken; I blame my parents.

And, I digress.

So, back to the topic at hand….

This is the plaster splint. Words cannot adequately describe the stench coming off the thing but, suffice it to say that, when the rather good-looking doctor cut it off the Cub’s arm, unleashing a green cloud of putridity; I totally denied responsibility. I may have even tried to blame it on Hugh for passing along a recessive gene for noxious body odor but, you can’t prove it.

In case you cannot read the inscription on the splint, it says; Man-Cub: If lost, please return to jungle. Dr. Hottie got a kick out of it so I did accept total credit for that. Like, duh.

This is the Cub’s new, improved and water-proof cast.

And, this is the Cub, looking mightily pleased with himself while plotting his next playground catastrophe. Saints preserve us.

Tuesday, July 10, 2007

Not That There’s Anything Wrong With That

We have an appointment tomorrow morning to have the Man-Cub’s broken wrist placed in a cast, finally. The plaster splint has been on for 11 days now and is emitting a funky smell the likes of which I have never before experienced; something evil lurks beneath.

Hold me.

11 days is a long time to wear a temporary splint if you ask me but, if you ask the orthopedic guy; not so much. In any case, it has given the Cub ample opportunity to think about what color he wants the actual cast to be and, as of this morning; he wants a black cast with flames on it.


Which, Hugh decrees, is further evidence that the child is destined to be straight since no respectable gay man would ask for a cast that resembles something one might see at a NASCAR race.

Not that we had any reason to think the Cub will turn out gay, you understand (not that there’s anything wrong with that), after all; this is the child who just the other day told me how much he likes boobs.

Hugh’s just sayin’.

Monday, July 09, 2007

Operation Hottie By…..

…..ah, fuckit.

I had a great weekend! Friday night, the kids and I traveled to a neighboring town to watch my niece (The Princess) and nephew (The Rebel Without a Pause) participate in the Little Britches Rodeo. I got to visit with Older Sister while my kids, with a clear lack of consideration for my health; shadowed their cousins, darting underneath horses, climbing fences and generally giving me minor heart attack after minor heart attack.

Heart failure aside, I got to meet the newest member of sister's family; Max the Twee Wonder Dog. He is precious in a way that makes my teeth ache and, if I wasn't 100 percent certain that Rowdie would eat him whole before spitting out his rhinestone-studded collar; I would have smuggled him home in my shirt when we left later that night.

Oh, like you wouldn't.

Saturday, I spent the entire day lounging about on the front porch. It was hella-hot and I had zero energy for the million and ten chores that I could have been doing so, you know....I said fuckit and I enjoyed glass after glass of iced tea while watching Hugh slave over his chores. I did offer to get him a glass of iced tea too, lest you think me totally heartless.

Sunday was basically a repeat of Saturday with the exception of The Talk with Oscar and Emily, happily; it went quite well.

We had previously made plans for The Girl to spend the night with a friend since, as they say, little pitchers have big ears and, at least in my daughter’s case; spill their contents with only the slightest of tips. Since we don’t want the rumor of my departure from my job to get out prematurely, we thought it best to conduct the Talk with her safely out of earshot.

On the other hand, The Man-Cub can listen to a conversation and forget it even happened within five minutes. Hell, he can have a conversation and forget it in three. So, he got to stay.

We mixed business with pleasure by inviting Oscar and Emily over for dinner which allowed us all to relax a bit and, I’m sure the fact that it gave Hugh the perfect opportunity to show off his new grill was a pure coincidence. What’s that? I didn’t tell you about Hugh’s new grill? He would be horrified! Must. Remedy. Immediately! Let’s see, it is stainless steel, has six-burners and a rotisserie plus a separate burner for cooking beans in a saucepan as one is often wont to do. Oh, and it weighs 290 pounds which I know for a fact because I helped the man lift it fifteen inches up onto the porch.

Yep, she’s a beaut all right. A heavy beaut. Also, I came thisclose to breaking a nail while hefting the bitch onto the porch; I’m not entirely convinced that we can be friends even if it does grill my chicken breasts to perfection.

Anyhoo, Hugh cooked said chicken breasts and I made my special Caprese salad as well as my infamous Potato Crack and we set about consigning ourselves to A Life of Indebtedness to the In-Laws, certain we would have them eating out of our hands by the end of the meal.

Which, we did. Well, as much as you can have two people who already want exactly the same thing that you want, eating out of your hands, anyway.

My estimated date of Release from Public Servitude is set for December 17th. I am giddy with relief and anticipation.

And, scared practically shitless about the new responsibilities.

But! Just think of the money I’ll save on toilet paper! Money that I can then use to purchase rhinestone-studded collars for the twee precious lap dog that I plan to purchase once I have Rowdie's jaws wired shut!

Kidding, Hugh.

Thursday, July 05, 2007

I Wish Someone Could Tell Me Why My Office Smells Like Cotton Candy

It is making me hungry and, that’s not a good thing.

On a completely unrelated topic, we had a lovely Fourth of July holiday yesterday. When the friends we were planning to host at a BBQ had a sudden change of plans, Hugh and I decided to pack up the children and head to a neighboring town for a soak in the outdoor hot springs. It was a great decision, even if we did have to give the Man-Cub the equivalent of a redneck arm cast; i.e.: a plastic bag wrapped with duct tape. Hey, it worked.

He even managed to get his head wet. And, to swim.

Anyway, we soaked and swam for a couple of hours before enjoying a picnic in the adjoining community park which, by the way, is one of my favorite picnic spots in the world because it is surrounded by mountains on all sides and, in addition to relaxing on the grass and enjoying the view, you can watch rock-climbers make their way up and down the face of the surrounding cliffs.

After our picnic, we walked downtown for ice cream cones at our favorite old fashioned ice cream parlor and candy store. The cones there are made fresh and I cannot resist a good waffle cone full of blueberry cheesecake ice cream, I just can’t. Of course, since the cone is huge, it’s a good thing The Girl also likes homemade blueberry cheesecake ice cream.

Once we had accomplished diet hari-kari, it was back to the hot springs for more soaking and then back home to get ready for Fireworks Extravaganza 2007. Oscar and Emily joined us for the display and, despite a sudden storm that included high winds and lightning bolts the likes of which I have not seen all summer; Hugh was able to put on quite a show.

Oscar, Emily and I sat on the front porch and shared a nice bottle of white Merlot while the kids enjoyed the show from blankets spread on the lawn. The show was briefly interrupted when the automatic sprinklers came on but I proved quite speedy in getting to the controls to turn them off and, really, the night was so warm the kids didn’t really mind the minor soaking.

After all, they are kids and therefore, won’t melt. On the other hand, sugar does melt which is why I took great care not to get wet, myself.

‘Cause I’m sugar, get it?

Yeah, yeah, lame I know.

Speaking of lame; the baseball tournament that Hugh worked so hard to put together for the boys this weekend won’t be happening after all. The other teams claim that the parents of their players are just too burnt out following the regular season to get it together for another weekend but, we all know the truth; they were afraid. Undefeated, yo.

Also, what a bunch of chickens.

Which reminds me; I'm hungry.

Where in the holy hell is that cotton candy smell coming from?

Tuesday, July 03, 2007

Asserting Our Independence

Hugh and I are going to meet with his parents this weekend to discuss the terms for our purchase of the family business. I am a little nauseous. Although, the nausea is probably a result of the Really Bad Headache© that hit me during a meeting with several members of my Board of Directors earlier today, rather than on the impending change of my career status.

Even still, the process is more than a bit scary and, while totally worth it in the long run; anxiety producing.

Tomorrow should be a nice day, though. We are hosting a BBQ for a few close friends followed by Fireworks Extravaganza 2007. Hugh purchased a butane torch with which to light his five million fountains, bottle rockets and sparklers and I attached the garden hose to the spigot on the front porch.

Because he is all about efficiency and I’m a safety girl.

Anyhoodle, here’s hoping your Independence Day is safe and enjoyable and that none of your neighbors have the audacity to subject you to hour upon hour of loud noises and profanity. Like that which my neighbors will have to endure.

Really Bad Headache© is code for a headache that starts with an M and ends with me writhing about on the bathroom floor in agony. The M word is verboten in my family as its simple utterance has been known to cause a reaction in certain family members. Sorry Sis.

Monday, July 02, 2007

So…It’s July

and, Operation Hottie by July is now Operation Hottie by the End of July So Help Me God.

Yeah, I don’t hold out much hope, either.

Anyhoo, I have managed to achieve a state of ignorant bliss regarding the situation. I recognize that I love the Starbucks orange crème frappucinos, Krispie Kreme donuts and Cheese-It crackers far too much for my own good. I also realize that, to separate myself from them would be futile. On the bright side, I have come to enjoy my daily workouts again so, it’s a 50/50 proposition regarding whether or not my ass will eventually overtake the universe.

In the meanwhile, as long as my jeans still fit; I’m good.

Speaking of which, remember my quest for the Holy Grail, AKA: The Perfect Jeans? Yes? And, remember how thrilled I was with my purchase of a pair of Seven for all Mankind jeans on eBay? Yes? Well, I managed to win two additional auctions for the same cut of jeans and I got them in two different sizes so; one pair is bound to fit me no matter the state of existence of my ass at any given time.

Nirvana. You heard it here first.