Thursday, April 30, 2009

In Which We Declare a Flatulence Emergency

The construction crew is pouring cement in our driveway even as I type this so; my dream of a circular drive is only hours from fruition. Ok, maybe not hours since the cement will take some time to harden and cure but, you know what I mean.

The cement truck arrived just as the Man-Cub and I were leaving for school and, he was most disappointed that I would not allow him to stay and watch as the cement poured out but, that is how the cookie crumbles and; when I reminded him that I allowed him to be late for his vision therapy session yesterday so that he could take part in the school's emergency evacuation drill, he was somewhat mollified.

Speaking of the drill, I have to say that I was most impressed with the calm and orderly way that the students filed out of their classrooms, out of the building and down the block to the High School where they were all accounted for with role call.

Granted, they had known about the drill for the better part of a week; in a situation where (God forbid) they had to evacuate for an actual emergency, I'm guessing things would be a leetle bit less relaxed. Still, I'm glad the school district has a plan and that they take the time to train the students properly.

When I asked the Cub what he thought about the drill he replied that it was a really good thing that they did it when they did. I inquired as to why he felt that way and he informed me that, seconds prior to the alarm sounding, he had let loose a Silent But Deadly.

The fruit pizza from the night before clearly didn't agree with him.

I've smelt his SBDleys and, I assure you, his particular class was in the midst of an actual emergency-they just didn't know it.

It got me to thinking that we should have a family evacuation plan for those times when he lets loose at home and; I've determined that, in the event of a household evacuation, we will congregate on my new driveway.

Providing we don't have an emergency before the cement hardens, that is.

Fingers crossed.

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

There Should be a Prize for the Most Funcos

My husband’s nefarious plan to disrupt my Bunco party last night was thwarted by the most unlikely of allies-the town government.

Before the first drop of cement could be poured, the Town Code officer stopped by and informed Hugh that the cement would extend onto the town right-of-way and therefore, could not be applied as planned.

Hugh took great umbrage (is that not the coolest word, ever?!) at the officer’s declaration and immediately got on the phone; he has an appointment with the Town Engineer this morning and, I’m not terribly worried about our dreams of a circular driveway going up in smoke as my husband has a way of convincing people to see things his way most of the time.

Plus, our driveway will be the only noticeable improvement made to a town right-of-way in, oh, at least thirty years and reasonable people like improvement so; I’m anticipating cement by this time tomorrow.

Yes, now I’m anticipating it.

Last night, however; I was quite pleased that my friends were spared the indignity of having to leap over wet cement to get to my awesome Bunco snacks; snacks which included my first ever stab at making a fruit pizza (HUGE hit) and my special Malibu wraps that The Teenager and Kaley kept sneaking down the stairs to abscond with. I also bought a pricey block of Swiss cheese and, can I just say; you get what you pay for, that cheese was phenomenal.

Not so phenomenal were my Bunco stats, I swear; I can't even win the prize for having the most losses-my win/loss ratio is fairly evenly split. I also did not win the prize for the most Buncos as I had only one the entire night. I did manage to rack up eleven Funcos but, we don't give a prize for Funcos so the most I could claim was bragging rights and, really; who wants to brag about that?

I do. I got the most Funcos at Bunco last night, yesss!!!

Yeah, not quite as good as cash. Oh well.

While my friends and I tossed dice, Kaley and The Teenager (that would make a fabulous name for a pop band) watched television upstairs and Hugh and the Man-Cub attended the team’s first baseball game.

Jana and I felt slightly guilty about missing the game but, I had volunteered to host the game a month before I knew the baseball schedule so, it couldn’t be helped and, you know, fruit pizza.

Anyway, we kept up to date on the game by texting Jana’s husband and, since the boys got walloped by the other team, we didn’t miss much.

As I have said before, this season is going to be a building year for the boys. Our team is much younger than the teams that we will be competing against due to the fact that we had to move so many 10 year olds up to play at the 11-12 level. It’s just the nature of the game this time around and, if nothing else, they will hone their sportsmanship skills by practicing being gracious losers.

I can think of worse things.

Like, the town denying me my right to a circular driveway but; I’m not going to think about that right now.

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

I Love the Smell of Diesel Fuel in the Morning

I have a top-secret tip for those of you wishing your husband would complete a project that he started eons ago; plan to host a group of friends at your house, let him know in advance and then sit back and see what happens.

Really, this works; just this morning I awoke to the thunderous sound of a back-hoe in the driveway and, as I left for work this morning, my front driveway was being prepped for concrete....three years after I was promised a paved driveway.

I host my Bunco club tonight. The driveway and sidewalk leading to my front door will be wet cement.

My husband has known about this party for the past month. He is a genius of MENSA proportions and, he has excellent timing in case any of you ever questioned it.

I am tempted to take a skillet to his head.

On the other hand, this time next week, I will have a fully-cemented driveway..... on which my son can smash his skull while skate-boarding.

Clearly, now is not the time to drop the Aflack coverage.

Monday, April 27, 2009

I Can Feel It Coming In the Air Tonight

Its allergies and they are kicking my ass. Honestly, I can’t remember being this sensitive to pollens and weeds and dander since I was a small child when I would wake up with my eyes matted completely shut.

I’m not quite there yet-my eyes have only been matting half-way shut but, you get the idea.

I read somewhere that adults are becoming more prone to seasonal allergies because the pollens are mutating into stronger versions of themselves in order to compete with all the toxins and crap that humans have polluted the air with and, that makes sense to me; it scares the ever-loving shit out of me but, it makes sense.

Speaking of things that scare the shit out of me; swine flu, anyone? Seriously? I heard that it causes its victims to grow a snout and a wee curly tail-stuff that nightmares are made of.

Speaking of pigs (would you look at that segue); the children spent the weekend at the cabin with Jana, leaving Hugh and me ample time to catch up on the million-and-ten chores that we had to do around the house, 0ne of which was the annual cleaning of the garage and, can I just say; my children hoard the weirdest shit imaginable in that space.

Every year it’s like an excursion to the center of the Dirty Universe; old sneakers, jars of bug corpses, boxes of dried-up worms, random buckets of dirt that must have housed creatures of some type at one time or another, and, my personal Favorite Thing to Find in the garage; mud-crusted socks.

Of course, I’m blaming the majority of our discoveries on the Man-Cub since the Teenager hasn’t been in the business of collecting insects for at least a year, now but; we did find a number of jump ropes missing handles, deflated volleyballs, a handful of press-on nails and an entire trash bag full of outgrown socks, granted, they were mud-free but; what is up with my kids and socks in the garage?

The world may never know.

Anyway, aside from cleaning out the garage, we (I) also managed to clean the house, install the screen door on the front porch (Hugh, obviously), fertilize the lawn and, in the happiest of all accomplishments-to haul off the very last of the remodeling debris that had been stacked in the yard for the past….one, two, six, carry the eight…um, four years or so (Sanford & Son had nothing on us).

Then, before the allergies really kicked in and had their way with us, we went out to dinner and caught up on our Netflix queue.

The moral of which story is; if you don’t already have a friend who is willing to spirit your children away for a weekend of fun so that you can clean up after them; you should totally get one.

Also, I owe Jana, big time.

Hmm, I wonder if she would take a box of over-the-counter antihistamines as payment; I’m pretty well stocked up on them, myself.

Now, if I can just get my hands on some Tamiflu….

Friday, April 24, 2009

She’s a Delicate Flower

The Teenager has recently developed a crush on a boy in her class. At least, I think he’s in her class, getting her to actually discuss the topic is akin to coaxing a timid animal out of its burrow; I gently toss out questions like food crumbs then, watch her sniff cautiously at them before she deems them safe enough to consume.

From what I have been able to gather, the crush is in the I-like-him-he-doesn’t-actually-know-I –exist stage so I have offered the Teenager several suggestions for popping up on his radar including, but not limited to:

-Signing up for whatever study groups he participates in (whoo, hoo! Parental Bonus: Better grades)

-“Accidentally” bumping into him in the hallway (yes, that old chestnut).

-Boldly walking up to him, introducing herself properly and asking him if he would like to sit next to her at lunch.

-And, if all else fails, she could send him a note-

I like you. Do you like me? Circle Yes or No.

Although, in this day and age, it would probably be more effective to just text him the damn thing-

I like U Do U like me? Yes/No

She has been less than grateful for my helpful suggestions and we are currently at an impasse, she is, however, spending the weekend with Jana and Kaley so information is bound to trickle down to me eventually since teenage girls have no problem telling each other about their crushes nor do they have a problem telling their parents about their friend’s crushes hence: The Teenager will talk to Kaley who will in turn talk to Jana who will report back to me, giving me at least a little more information on which to base the questions that I cautiously toss into the Teenager’s burrow, hoping the trail will draw her out into the open.

Welcome to Parenting in the Wild 101.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Blah, Blah, Blah...My Ass Hurts... Blah, Blah, Blah

So, yeah; nothing new to report.

Hey, I know! Let's talk about the weather! Can you believe that it has actually been quite pleasant around here the past couple of days? Well, it has. The warmer temperatures have been a welcome change and, I'm pleased to report, my tulips finally decided that maybe, just maybe, now would be a good time to actually bloom. I know! And here I was, determined to rip the little bastards right out of the ground; lucky for them, they got with the program.

Speaking of things that should grow; Hugh aerated and mowed the lawn last night and is planning to turn on the sprinklers this weekend.

I am somewhat dubious of the lawn's chances for survival as several rather large spots (um, the backyard) appear to be dead. I haven't voiced my concerns to Hugh because, as evidenced by my stellar gardening efforts last summer; I suck at growing anything other than acne on my chin and spare rolls of flesh with which to pad my waist and ass.

So, I'll leave the fretting over the lawn to my husband.

Besides, I have other things to frett over; baseball, anyone?

Practices have been going well but, our team is a motley crew, to say the least. And, by motley crew, I mean that they lack the coordination and skill of more seasoned players, not that they routinely whip out guitars and break into a spirited rendition of Shout at the Devil although, that would be awesome.

They are a determined bunch, I will give them that. And, they are all preciously, adorably, ridiculously good looking, long, gangly limbs and all. Seriously, we have a team of little heartbreakers-in-the-making and; I feel super-sorry for the girls in, oh... say, five years.

Anyway, our first game is next Tuesday. I won't actually be attending the game as I am hosting my Bunco group that same evening and I take my hostessing duties seriously. So seriously in fact, I am planning to serve refreshments on actual dishes rather than on paper plates, which is my usual modus operandi; nothing says "I'm glad you all decided to be my friends" like washing dishes, I always say.

Ooooh, that last sentence reminded me of Drew Barrymore's performance in HBO's Gray Gardens. If you haven't seen it, I highly recommend it; the Beale women will make you feel realllly secure in your own sanity.

Or, you'll have discover people who share your particular brand of Crazy in which case, damn,

Bless your little heart.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Why Does Monday Have to Come Along and Ruin a Perfectly Good Week?

Mondays are my kryptonite-they suck my super powers right out of me and kick my ass when I am down. Luckily, however, the weather was nice for yesterday’s Monday so, there’s that.

And, maybe it just seemed like it was a crappy day because the weekend before it had been so nice and relaxing....

Friday, after getting my abs pounded by the Bionic Woman who, by the way, I am now convinced has not only a metal hip but abs of steele; I worked at the store for a few hours before heading home to clean the house.

I was in the rarest of all cleaning moods-perhaps you know the one-wherein I placed my iPod on speakers and energetically and frenetically scrubbed every surface of my home until it was glistening and smelled hospital-clean only, not in a gross medicinal-people-die-here-everyday-kind of way.

Then, on Saturday; the kids and I picked up Emily and drove to Neighboring City to stock up at Sam’s. We also stocked up on summer essentials at Old Navy and, when our shopping was done; we introduced Emily to the perfection that is Chik-fil-A. Yes, introduced her, can you believe it?

Woman had never known the pleasure of a honey-dipped Chik-fil-A nugget, scandalous.

Not only did she love the food but; Emily was greatly impressed by the cleanliness of the bathrooms and by the courteous nature of the staff. I suspect she will visit the Chik-fil-A again and, my work there is done.

On the way home from Neighboring City, we engaged in cheerful conversation, one in particular stands out in my mind; the Man-Cub informed us all that, when he grows up, he and his wife, Kendrea (yes, he already has her picked out and everything), are each going to have a Lamborghini. When we asked him what fabulous job he planned on having in order to afford such luxury he replied “I’m going to run the hardware store” and, Emily and I laughed and laughed…ah…kids these days.

The rest of the weekend consisted of little more than relaxing at home. The weather was finally nice enough for the kids to play outside and I got quite a few of my Baseball Association secretary duties finished as well as a mountain of laundry that had been threatening to eat our Mud Room, whole.

Emily invited us over for dinner so, I didn’t even have to cook and my pristine kitchen was allowed to remain so for another day.

Then, Monday came along and pissed all over the place.

But! I got the greatest thrill this morning when, upon awakening, I realized that it was Tuesday and that Monday was over; the rest of the week will be a relative cake-walk.

You know, until next Monday.

Sunday, April 19, 2009

Sunday, Sunday

I am the only person awake in my house.

The scent of coffee brewing combines with the aroma of biscuits baking in the oven, delighting my senses.

I have a solitary hour in which to read the newspaper in complete silence.

To take full command of the remote control or to surf the internet without interruption.

To sit in the breakfast nook and soak up the rays of sunshine as they filter through the bay window.

To close my eyes and dream of foreign lands, exotic locations.

To sit in lotus position, breathing deeply, relaxing every fiber of every sore muscle.

One solitary hour every Sunday morning. One hour in which to preserve my sanity.

No wonder God rested on the 7th day.

Friday, April 17, 2009

It’s Only a Number, It’s Only a Number, It’s Only a number….

I stepped on the scale this morning and just about crapped my pants.

Ok, that is a slight exaggeration-I don’t wear pants when I weigh in; I go naked as the day I was born in hopes of eliminating even a few extra ounces. But! That is all beside the point. The point is; I am a mere twenty pounds away from my Scary Weight-the weight that I was at five years ago when I went on my Magical Life-Changing Fitness Streak and lost almost forty pounds and, if you are no math genius, let me break it down for you...I have gained back TWENTY FREAKING POUNDS in just a little over a year and a half.

Naturally, when I saw the number in all its digital glory; I got pissed-why have I been busting my ass and eating like a monk (monks don’t eat much, right? Oh, wait, monks don’t talk. Hmm, well, what the fuck ever) just to gain weight? Then, I reminded myself that I have only been eating well and exercising again for like, a week and, before that I was downing fluffy sugar cookies and mainlining donuts with sprinkles so, yeah, what exactly was I expecting?

And, I hopped off the Crazy train and vowed to continue on the path that I am currently on-the path to better health (and a far more acceptable number on the freaking scale, hellooo, bikini season!).

That said; I am going to Pilates today. Maybe the Bionic Woman can jump-start my weight loss.

In other excercise news, the Man-Cub has been doing a great job with his vision therapy. The therapist is pleased with his determination and enthusiasm (Man-Cub: I’m supposed to throw this bean bag at that trampoline and catch it when it bounces back? Fifty times in a row? Suh-weet!) and we are working diligently with him at home. In fact, I get up a half hour early to allow time to supervise his exercises.

At first I was worried that he would get bored with the project and begin to fight me so; I bought a mega-pack of temporary tattoos with which to bribe him-complete the exercises for the day, get a tattoo, yay!

Who would have thought that he would enjoy the exercises so much that bribery would be totally unnecessary?

For my part, I don’t exactly enjoy getting up a half hour early to swing a ball over my child’s head while recording the smoothness (or lack thereof) of his eye movements but, I do it; I do it for him and, his improved reading will be all the reward I need.

Plus, you know, I don’t really care for tattoos.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

Only the Lazy Resort to Blogging in Bullet Points

So, yeah, um....guilty as charged.

-Hugh tilled my vegetable garden last night despite the fact that we are supposed to get another winter storm this week. I think he is almost as anxious for warmer weather as I am, no doubt because he is dying to get the boat out of storage, don his captain's hat and take to the water.

-Now that the garden has been tilled and fertilized, I'm starting to get excited about gardening again even though last year's efforts produced only a steady harvest of anxiety and stress. Still, I have to have some faith in my cultivating abilities, after all, I have managed to grow an impressive crop of zits on my chin just this month, alone. Surely that says something.

-Hugh and I had to discipline The Teenager for abusing her text messaging privileges. She racked up 12,000 texts last month and more than a few of them occurred during school hours or well past her bedtime. We have installed some parental controls on her service and her messaging will be monitored closely from now on.

-I then had to discipline Hugh for conducting the discussion with The Teenager more like an interrogation than a simple discussion. In fact, I suggested that, next time, we place her in a chair under an excrutiatingly bright light with a tray of bamboo slivers at hand. He was duly chagrined.

-I am on day 3 of the 30 Day Shred and, holy Hannah, I'm sore. But, I haven't succumbed to the siren call of the chocolate in the children's Easter baskets and I am proud of my ability to make good choices; soon, my body will be detoxed into a state of utter purity. Then, maybe my face will get the memo and the zit crop will wither and die, die, I say!

-The Man-Cub has vision therapy again today followed by baseball practice. In a surprising turn of events, the child has decided to try pitching in addition to his role as second baseman. One can only hope that the vision therapy contributes to improved accuracy in his pitches because, currently, they are more likely to hit a batter in the head than the bat somewhat less than consistent in their accuracy.

-I believe I was a diplomat in another life.

-I have cut back considerably on my intake of Diet Pepsi since Lent ended. And, by considerably, I mean, not really very much at all. Oh, Diet Pepsi, I wish I could quit you.

-On the other hand, drinking Diet Pepsi keeps me from eating puffy sugar cookies with frosting and sprinkles so, disregard what I just said, Diet Pepsi, you know I love you.

-I'm supposed to be working right now and, instead, I am blogging in bullet points. see above: LAZY.

Monday, April 13, 2009

Just Like Old Times

The Easter picture above is wrong on so many levels. The Teenager is wearing curlers and a hair net, my nephew appears to be naked and the Man-Cub’s head has seemingly been severed from his body and perched in his Easter basket like a gruesome holiday treat-this is not what Jesus would do and yet; I cannot help but love it.

Maybe I love it so much because it reminds me of every Easter photo that my mother ever took of my sisters and me- pictures in which we are all three lined up on the sofa like we were about to be fingered for a crime and in which someone is either rooting through their basket for the first piece of candy or crying about being scolded for rooting through their baskets for the first piece of candy…cough…usually me…cough and; it seems only right that our children should be immortalized in much the same pose.

Granted, there was 100% less nakedness in my mother’s old photos but, you get the idea.

We thoroughly enjoyed spending the holiday in my childhood home. My younger sister and I got caught up and talked shit about my older sister who had elected to attend a rodeo rather than join us in the fun and; no one can blame us for trash-talking her because, that’s what you get when you chose to roam about a dirty arena rather than spending time with your sisters.

We had it out of our systems by Saturday, though and, that afternoon, following a shopping trip to the neighboring city, wherein we had hoped to find the delicious mellocreme bunnies of our youth (denied!); Barbie and I participated with the children in the ancient rite of dying eggs for the holiday.

We were extra stoked to be participating as the following picture clearly illustrates.

Shockingly, alcohol was not a factor.

In fact, we didn’t start drinking alcohol until later that night when we left the children under the watchful eyes of Hugh and the grandparents and ventured to the local bar to catch up with some friends. It was really nice and the time went by far too quickly but; we had Bunny Duties to attend to so, we parted ways, promising to get together again soon and, hopefully, we will.

Sunday morning, the children were up at the crack of dawn, screeching over their baskets and falling all over each other to find the eggs the bunny had so thoughtfully scattered throughout the house.

Easter dinner consisted of ham, scalloped potatoes, creamed corn, homemade butter rolls and my mom’s awesome Frog Eye salad- a container of which she was kind enough to send home with Hugh- and, before we knew it, it was time to head home.

The fact that it had snowed four inches during dinner led us to believe that we might have rough roads ahead but, spring snowstorms in Colorado are fickle bitches to say the least and, the most we had to deal with was a wee bit of slush on otherwise wet roads.

We finally pulled into the drive a little after seven and I immediately set about the chore of washing enough clothes to keep the children satisfied for the week and-having learned my lesson after our trip to New Orleans-enough underwear to go around.

We don’t go commando.

Oh, we totally encourage our five-year old nephew to pose for pictures half naked but we draw the line at going commando.

Friday, April 10, 2009

Here Comes Peter Cottontail…

Hugh, the kids, and I are headed for Mayberry for the Easter weekend. Barbie and my nephew are already there and I am looking forward to spending time with them almost as much as I am looking forward to drinking Diet Pepsi and eating my own weight in chocolate.

Speaking of which, the Teenager asked me how we always managed to get the Easter baskets, Christmas gifts, etc. to grandma’s house when we visited for the holidays and she was genuinely shocked when I told her that we put everything into black trash bags and threw them in the back of the car; she had never noticed the bags.

She noticed them this time, of course but; is going to make a concerted effort to ignore them for the sake of her brother, the true believer.

She’s going to make an excellent Easter Bunny one day (years and years and years from now).

On a totally different subject, Hugh finally finished our taxes last night. Every year he cuts it closer and closer to the deadline; I think he’s trying to see how far he can push me before I go completely mental and, the answer is, not too much further goddamnit.

On the bright side, we should be getting money back so; I will be able to afford a good therapist.

For the record, I’m thinking massage therapist.

Thursday, April 09, 2009

Insert Bad Pirate Joke Here______

So, the Man-Cub’s appointment with the eye therapist went as well as could be expected. She ran us through a number of exercises that we will have to do at home as well as working on some things that she and the Cub will be doing during his office visits.

The therapist is optimistic about the program and feels that, with the Cub’s can-do attitude, he should show rapid improvement in all the areas that we are hoping for. Needless to say, by the time I left the appointment; I was feeling slightly better about the situation.

Then, I wrote a check for $163 for the day’s session plus a non-refundable equipment fee; the equipment fee covered the items that we were required to take home for our homework exercises. This essentially boils down to eighty-five bucks for a large Frisbee, a ping-pong ball and the lovely eye patch the Cub is sporting in the picture above.

I realize the country’s economy is in the toilet but this is ridiculous.

Unless it works in which case, it is brilliant.

Anyway, the Cub looooves his new eye patch so, there’s that. This morning, I had to physically remove it from his person before he left the house for school, so badly did he want to “talk like a pirate” all day. I’m sure the teachers would have been thrilled.

Now, for the bad pirate joke….so, a pirate walks into a bar with a parrot perched on his crotch. Bartender says “Hey, mate, did you know that you have a parrot on your crotch?” and the pirate says “Ayye, he’s driving me nuts.”

Ba dum dum. Thank you, thankyouverymuuuch...I'll be here all week. Don't forget to tip your waitress on your way out.

Wednesday, April 08, 2009

The Return of the Excercise-Induced Tourette's

So, day three of my renewed commitment to daily exercise; I'm so sore I can hardly move without my eyes tearing up and my language, it has become so... colorful.

A lot of the cursing is directed at how frustrated I am about how weak my body has gotten following just a little over a month without frequent workouts and, while I realize that this will teach me not to slack off again; I feel entitled to a swear word here and there.

Or, you know, every other word. Whichever.

I would tell you that I plan to challenge myself to the 30 Day Shred starting on Monday but, I fear that you have already gotten bored with this topic and, if I were you I would have nodded off at the first word, too, so; moving on.

The Man-Cub has an appointment for his first session of vision therapy today and I am approaching it with cautious optimism; if it works, great! It will totally be worth the money that we are about to hemorrhage over it invest. If it doesn't work, well, we can tell the child's future therapist that we did everything we possibly could. Obviously, I am hoping for the former rather than the latter.

Today is also the first day of baseball practice. Hugh has stepped down from the position of Head Coach to fill the Assistant Coach position-freeing him from the majority of the responsibility of the team. That said; how did I get hijacked into the role of Team Mom, again? Inquiring minds want to know.

On the plus side, Darren is playing for our team this year so Jana will be available to assist me-she'll be the Assistant Team Mom, so to speak. I haven't told her that yet, I'm going to let it me a surprise; I'm a sweetheart that way.

I also haven't told her that she is going to be doing the 30 Day Shred challenge with me yet, either. That's also going to be a surprise; I'm sure she's going to love it.

Oops! Talking about fitness again, wait! Come back! I'll totally change the subzzzzzzzz....

Tuesday, April 07, 2009

Cows, Sheep, Goats, Mules, Donkeys and Whiney Bloggers Named Chelle

Alex, I'll take Animals With More Than One Stomach for $1000.

That can be the only explanation for the voluminous amounts of food that I have been able to put away this past month or two. Granted, I have always had a healthy appetite but, I also had willpower that kept fairly decent pace. Lately, my willpower is MIA; one of my stomachs probably ate it.

I thought that by giving up chocolate, candy and Diet Pepsi for Lent, I would jump-start healthier eating habits but, I was wrong and I have the extra tummy roll to prove it. Clearly, I am going to have to get serious again, thus commencing...say it with me, people...Operation Hottie by July.

You all know the drill by now. I'll pledge to eat only the healthiest of foods and to exercise daily. I'll drink more water and get more sleep. I'll treat myself to bi-weekly massages and weekly OPIcures and maybe I'll go crazy and get my eyebrows waxed by a professional.

I know I can do it, I've done it at least two other times with results that lasted anywhere from a few months to four years (yes, I screwed up four years of relative diet sobriety! Who does that?!) and I have faith in my ability to do it again.

I have to do it; I'm old, now. I don't have the luxury of thinking that tomorrow is another day; the habits I set now will determine my overall health well into my Nursing Home years, of that I am certain. I need to write the script for the rest of my body's story and it needs to be a good one, otherwise; I might as well rent a pasture and join the rest of the cud-chewing crowd and, people? I don't think I could stand the smell.


Not bored with me yet? Lucky you; I'm also at Rocky Mountain Moms today.

Monday, April 06, 2009

Because I’m an Effen Mess, That’s Why

Lately, I burst into tears for no good reason. While I’m fairly confident that it has something to do with the state of world politics, the economy and my children’s ridiculous insistence on growing up, it's still embarrassing as hell so; I’m taking steps to improve my outlook and to keep the waterworks down to a trickle rather than a flood the likes of which the world has not seen since, well...Noah.

Over the past couple of weeks, however, commercials for Easter dresses have been my downfall. Seeing the cute little Gap kids in their Easter finery, hunting for pastel eggs while fluffy bunnies romp at their feet has proven almost too much for my obviously-addled brain to process and; I admit to openly bemoaning the fact that I no longer have a tiny toddler princess to dress in a frilly new dress with matching sweater, ruffled-butted tights, precious Easter bonnet and little white gloves.

In an unprecedented act of mercy (or, in an effort to get me to shut the hell up, already), The Teenager has volunteered to let me dress her up this year. This is a huge concession for a child who has not voluntarily worn a dress since, um, I cannot even remember when. The only caveat to the deal was that we had to find a green dress and that I had to agree to let her wear her sneakers with it which, were two concessions I was more than willing to make although the prospect of finding a green dress that we could both agree on seemed a daunting task to say the least.

We actually found the perfect dress on Saturday when, following the Man-Cub’s final wrestling tournament of the season (2nd place, yay! And, no more wrestling, double yay!), we visited the local JC Penney’s. In a welcome turn of events, the dresses were all half-price which was a good thing considering the fact that we also had to shop for a new bra for the Teenager, a bra that would convert to accommodate the halter-top nature of the new dress.

Since we hadn’t been bra shopping in some time, neither of us was certain as to which size the Teenager needed. The Teenager wasn’t interested in taking the time to try bras on so, I was forced to improvise, holding each bra up to her chest and eyeballing the fit. This was about the time that the child’s patience with me and my obviously hormone-driven mood swings ran out and I can’t really blame her; no one likes getting felt up by their mother in the bra department of the JC Penney.

So, we cut our losses, grabbed the bra voted Most Likely to Fit and hightailed it outta there.

The Teenager tried on her new outfit for her father once we got home and, I’m pretty sure I saw a tear in his eye although, he claimed it was dust.

Now, why didn’t I think of that? I’m not an emotional wreck; I’ve got dust in my eyes.


Friday, April 03, 2009

This Stomach Bug Could Be the Best Diet Plan Evah

So much for it being a 24 hour virus, instead; I’m going on day three with the rumbly in my tumbly as Winnie the Pooh would say.

I haven’t thrown up since Tuesday night but, everything I eat still goes through me in record time, if you know what I mean and, wow, my bad; hope you weren’t eating when you read that because I know you know what I mean.

On the bright side, my appetite is about as low as it’s ever been and so a diet is really easy to stick to right about now. On the not-so-bright side, this morning I felt too weak and exhausted to go to Pilates so, my muscle tone is definitely going to suffer.

I hate stomach flu.

Hopefully, I will be completely healed by tomorrow when we travel to a nearby town for our last (Hallelujah!) wrestling tournament of the season. I would prefer not to have to jog to the restrooms every five minutes if I can help it although, hey! Jogging is a form of exercise! Maybe my muscles won’t turn to complete jello before this thing runs its course.

And, speaking of things running their course; Good Friday is a week from today which means that, as of noon next Saturday, I will be reunited with my long-lost lovah, Diet Pepsi. I’m planning to run to the nearest bottle of the magical elixir. In slow motion. With the wind blowing through my hair and my arms outstretched.

Diet Pepsi, I’ve missed you so.

Thursday, April 02, 2009

Is It Friday Yet?

With our trip to New Orleans and the puke-fest that followed, my days have become disjointed and confused. It feels like it should be Friday to me already even though I have technically worked just one day this week. Maybe I just wish it was Friday so that tomorrow would be Saturday and I could actually get my housework done.

Yeah, I said it; I wish it was the weekend so that I could clean. Maybe I'm still sick after all.

In my defense, I have virtually no clean underwear after having missed my usual laundry day last Sunday. The children are less affected by the lack of clean laundry since it is Spring Break and neither of them has bothered to change out of their pajamas since our return from New Orleans. Hugh doesn't seem to notice the lack of clean underthings either but, I'm chalking that up to the fact that he simply has more underwear than I do.

And, maybe I need to go shopping.

Speaking of shopping, I forgot to mention that Hugh and I spent a great deal of time wandering through the French Market while in the French Quarter. I snagged a great deal on a fake Burberry bag with a matching wallet and I could not be more pleased. The last fake I had-a Kate Spade-lasted for four or five seasons before starting to look trashy and I got millions of compliments on it. I also got used to cheerfully chirping "It's a fake!" as though anyone cared so; I should do well with my faux British accessory.

In the interest of full disclosure, the Burberry perfume I wear is 100% authentic, purchased duty free in Barbados.

You know, in case you've ever been close enough to smell me and you wondered.

Not enough brain-rot for you? I'm also posting at Rocky Mountain Moms Blog today. Come by and say hello and I'll totally let you sniff my perfume for free.

Wednesday, April 01, 2009

Maybe It Was the Voodoo

Despite spending the last day and a half desperately trying to hold down the slightest thing, say water; I am feeling well. I’m still sore from the dry-heaves and my head aches a bit but, all in all, I think the flu has passed.

Thank God.

Unfortunately, I will probably associate New Orleans with the view of my toilet bowl for the rest of my life but, you know, I can think of worse things.

Anyhoodle, the trip itself was interesting. Hugh and I were scheduled to fly out of town at 7:00 Thursday morning but, due to the mini-blizzard that blew into the area, actually made it out closer to 9:00. By then, our connecting flight had left without us and we were rerouted to New Orleans through Philadelphia. Unfortunately, that flight left Denver late, thus placing us in Philadelphia late enough to miss our connecting flight which is when the airline, in its infinite wisdom, booked us on a flight from Philadelphia to Chicago, Chicago to Pittsburg and Pittsburg to New Orleans except, oh yeah, we didn’t actually have seats on that plane so, um, shall we “see what we can do?” said the nice (if very frazzled) woman at the customer service desk.

Yes, yes, please.

Here is where I tell you how beneficial simply being polite to a customer service representative can be; after a long and exhaustive search for a more direct flight to New Orleans, during which time Hugh and I smiled and nodded and generally behaved ourselves, the lovely agent found us seats on a direct flight leaving at 7:30 the following morning. Unfortunately, rumor had it that most of the hotels near the airport were over-sold so; we would probably have to bunk in the airport but! since we had been so cooperative, the agent upgraded our seats to first class.

Being nice counts when it matters, people.

So, we spent the night in the airport. Hugh can sleep anywhere so, he had no trouble dozing off. I, on the other hand, require a certain level of comfort in order to sleep; none of which includes a naugahyde couch, floor-buffers operating at two a.m. or the constant buzzing of overhead lights. Needless to say, I did not sleep at all. I did, however, manage to read through the latest Jodi Picoult novel and one by Maeve Binchy.

When we finally flew out on the 7:30 for New Orleans, I knew the Philadelphia airport by the back of my hand, including the Gap, where I purchased Hugh and myself each a new outfit, so positive was I that our luggage would never make it to New Orleans with us (it did). Fourteen hours in the airport was also enough time for me to reach the following conclusion: The center of global warming is the Philadelphia airport. Seriously folks, you might want to turn the thermostat down juuust a titch.

Once we landed in New Orleans, we headed to the hotel where we showered and dressed prior to meeting Oscar and Emily at the convention. Hugh and Oscar took off to do hardware type buying while Emily and I hit the gift buying area and, despite the fact that I was starting to majorly drag ass; finished our buying in record time.

Although the thought of falling into bed was looking more and more appealing, we instead joined Oscar and Emily at the opening night cocktail party. The party was held in the warehouse area that the floats for the Mardi Gras parade are stored and Hugh and I had a ball taking pictures of them. I can now say that I stood next to the floats and will never have to journey to New Orleans to see them glide down the street while crazy women flash their breasts and drunken people pee on the sidewalk. I’m a better woman for it.

(Not too bad for 40 hours without sleep)

After the cocktail party, Hugh wanted to join some friends from another store on a pilgrimage to the French Quarter. At that point, I had been awake for going on 40 hours but, I am nothing if not a good sport so, I went along. By the time we finally got back to the hotel, I resembled the walking dead and, two seconds later, I was comatose.

The following morning, I joined Emily for some shopping. My cold, which had been getting steadily worse throughout the trip, reared its ugly head and, I excused myself for an hour-long nap that ended up lasting five but; I felt much improved upon awakening. Dinner that night was in celebration of Oscar’s birthday and then, since he and Emily had made the trip by car and were planning on leaving early the next morning; we said goodbye.

Sunday Hugh and I spent the entire day exploring the French Quarter. We did all of the typical touristy things including a carriage ride, tour of St. Louis cathedral and the requisite stop at Marie Leveau's house of Voodoo. That night, we took a walking tour of New Orleans most haunted places and some of the images that Hugh captured on the camera would cause a non-believer to scratch his head. It was cool.

Monday, we played the same cat-and-mouse games with the airline industry that we had on the trip out but, with slightly less stress and no overnight stay in Philadelphia.

It was good to get home to the children and, considering the fact that the flu hit me at 5:00 on Tuesday morning; it was a darn good thing we weren’t sleeping in an airport.

As I said, today I feel much improved. So much so that I might actually unpack my suitcase and do some laundry. The excitement, I know!
Totally beats barfing up a lung, though.