Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Moo

Someone Just Kill Me

I was depressed yesterday. I went to my annual lady doctor appointment and had to get on a scale. I routinely turn my back on the scale numbers and ask the weigher not to say the number out loud. I know its ugly, I don't need the stats.

The good news is that I was only 2 pounds heavier than last year. Maybe I've finally reached some kind of plateau. The bad news is that I'm still a cow, and the doc wants me to lose 20 pounds. 20? How about 50? Why not dream big while we're dreaming? Its not like I don't look in the mirror every day and notice that I am a cow. I know what I look like, and I know what size my pants are, I have that much self awareness. Usually, though, other people don't tell you you're a cow, especially people you don't know very well, like my doctor, but she had no trouble telling me I am a cow, and giving me the card of a weight loss specialist. She didn't really use the word cow, but she may as well have. Shit.

So I was blue. And the answer to feeling blue? EAT! I had a massive bacon cheeseburger last night, and every bite of it was delicious. And yes, since you're asking, I did have some fries, and a few sips of a rootbeer (really, I only had a few sips.) Then, this morning, I went to Starbucks and had one of their english muffin sandwiches with sausage. God its good. That should hold me for a while. Here's hoping!

Then I went to the grocery store, and was determined to buy some healthy food. I went to the produce section and wandered around like an alien in a foreign land. I am totally overwhelmed by the produce section of the grocery store. If I'm making a recipe that calls for something specific, I can go right to it, put it in the cart, no sweat. But when all that's on the grocery list is "fruits and vegetables" I'm completely out of my element. I may as well be shopping for fishing rods or x-ray machinery; its all greek to me. I left with some bananas (for Rob, I don't like bananas) a pineapple, and some brussels sprouts. I would love to be one of those people that roams the farmers market, picking up fruit and smelling it for ripeness and delighting in finding the perfect peach, but I am just not that person. I once had one of those organic produce deliveries dropped off at my house twice a month. It turned out to be way too much pressure for me, and a lot of food went to waste, which is a crime in BoredHousewife's America, especially at those prices. It's weird: I had no trouble going to Texas and laying off 30 people, but shove me into the produce aisle and I practically start to cry.

And! The whole time I'm wandering around the produce aisle, my stupid pants are falling down. Not because they're too big, unfortunately, but because the rise is a little low for me, and they keep sliding down just far enough (taking my underpants with them) to be totally uncomfortable and necessitating a mighty tug upward. God, I'm a cow.

You know what I need? I need a non-profit organization in my county that has friendly, loving volunteers who will take my hand through the farmers market every Thursday, and say, "There there, deary." while wiping my tears away and helping me pick out healthy food. Then they will follow me home and help me unpack it or tell me how to prepare it in my kitchen, all the while telling me how great I'm doing, and what a trouper I am. Just like when you give birth; you have all these nurses and stuff in the delivery room cheering you on, like your the best little birth giver they've ever seen, and a few weeks later, when the euphoria wears off you realize, hey, they say that to every body! I wasn't really the best! Its kind of a sad moment. But my vegetable volunteer will be totally sincere, and she'll meet me every week until I'm strong enough to do it on my own, and I've built a repertoire of in-season fruits and veggies that don't scare me. Somebody get on that, okay? Someone out there, right a grant and let me know when to meet my first volunteer.

On another note, you may (or may not) have noticed that on the right side of your screen, there are some ads. I'm just trying this out, to see if anything comes of it. I make more $ if you click on the ads, so if you're feeling generous, or bored, or want to self-flagellate in some way, click your little heart out. I think they use key words in the post to choose the ads, so maybe later I'll make a list of key words to attract ads that might actually be interesting. Like, Free Hamburgers or Cheap Stylish Clothes or New Custom Sofas Half Off. Stuff like that.

Monday, September 28, 2009

You Sunk my Battleship!

Okay, phew, here I am. I made it. When you last left your heroine (that would be me, unless you're a junkie, in which case, sorry) I was lamenting my day spent searching for a way to transfer my Hi8 tapes on to my computer. The deed is done, my friends, DONE! The third camera I borrowed was the winner, and now, every time Leila pisses me off, I can quickly watch a movie of her being adorable, and quell the boilingness that is my blood. I wont say anything else about this endeavor except to add that I was so cautious about the success of the transfer, that I did not touch my computer while it was transferring stuff. I could have, I think, but I was so scared that I would ruin it, that I just gave the hard working machines a wide berth.

Fast forward to Friday, the day I finished the transfers and the day of E's big party. E's husband goes away every fall to watch a football game in his home town (guys are weird) and E ships her kids off to her mother so she can have the house to herself for two entire days. If you don't happen to have children, let me 'splain that a weekend alone in your own home is like, like almost as good as being on an island beach alone with nothing but a good book. The silence, the cleanliness (or at least the knowledge that the messes are your own, and you're not cleaning up after anyone else) the uninterrupted television and the possession of the remote, the eating anything you want whenever you want, and the dancing around in your underwear singing Jesse's Girl into your hairbrush. And the sleep; the glorious, heavy, sound sleep.

E kicks off these weekends with a big bash. She invites 50 of her closest friends, makes a ton of Trader Joe's frozen appetizers, buys cases of white wine, and awaits the rockfest. There were a lot of women, eating, drinking, yapping, then C brings out the Karaoke machine. The usual suspects do a couple of numbers, and they've been bugging me to try karaoke, and I'm thinking, "If I'm going to do it, this is the way to do it: most of these people aren't listening." I'm thinking maybe they just wont notice me on the couch (about three or four people left the couch, clearly fearing that they would find themselves with a microphone singing Cocomo, but I hate standing at parties SO MUCH, that I didn't want to lose my seat.) Suddenly, they start chanting my name into the microphones. I quickly start shoving cocktail shrimp into my mouth (can't sing with a full mouth, right?) but I relent and agree to sing She Blinded Me with Science. For future reference, this is not a good karaoke song; you think you know the words but you really don't. Anyway, L, who is sitting next to me, says she'll do it with me.

The karaoke machine tipped over in C's car on the way to the party, so it wasn't working properly. I used that as an excuse to completely suck, but here's what really happened: So L is singing next to me, and she knocks my socks clean off. I know L as an accounting type with an unsettling love of spreadsheets. She lets me boss her around and clean out her closets and stuff, but she's afraid to get rid of decades-old bank statements and cables that lead no where. I just love that girl, and now I have a reason to love her more. Turns out, accounting lady knows EVERY WORD to EVERY SONG that comes up on the karaoke machine, and the stereo all night, AND she can sing like a mo' flicka. I kept looking at her like, "Who ARE you??" The Karaoke machine was packed up pretty soon after that. I've decided to believe that it was not my singing or my lack of Thomas Dolby lyric knowledge that made them cart it off, but I was relieved that they did. Can you believe I forgot my camera? Dang it!

The evening progresses, girls are leaving, much to E's chagrin as she has fantasies of rock 'n' rolling all night long and partying every day, and in the end its just me and L and E, laying on her sofa, listening to loud music. E assures me that I didn't over stay my welcome, but she looked pretty tired, and had a lot of food to put away. So Laura and I finally leave, and I drive Laura's hybrid (its like a space ship!) to her house with her in the passenger seat, bombed. We get to her house, and I decide that, even though I was fine to drive, I would just walk home. Its just before 2 a.m. and she flutters into her house, and I start the trek to my house.

There is no reason to be scared in my town. It should be made of gingerbread, its so safe. But L lives in a canyon, and its dark, so I call Rob at home to let him know that I'm walking and if I'm not home in 20 minutes, he should come looking for me. He sleeps through the phone. Awesome. My only real fear is that I'll trip, but I don't, and the walk is cool and quiet and wonderful. Not one car passed me, I didn't see one raccoon or cat or anything, I saw lots of stars, and it was a nice way to clear my head before hitting the hay. Rob didn't wake up when I got in bed either.

I told E that I hate taking my make up off late at night, and I wish I could just leave it on and go to bed, but I'm afraid that it will stain my pillow case. She assured me that, based on personal experience, it would not, and she was right! I slept in my party make up and there was no evidence on my pillow case in the morning. I did have a hangover, though, and Rob went and got me a McDonalds breakfast (with a small coke, I admit) which is the best hangover food, bar none. But I couldn't write that day, I was too tired. I was too tired yesterday, too actually.

But now I'm back, and my tapes are transfered, and I cleaned my house, and I cooked some dinner (Trader Joe's, gotta love it.) Rob and Leila are playing Battleship. The game came from my parent's house, and its so old, that the picture on the front is of a dad and son playing the game, and Mom and sis' are in the back ground, doing dishes and SMILING! I can sink plastic battleships as good as any man, I'll tell you that!


**ADDENDUM: As my friends read this post, the hangover stories are pouring in. I wasn't the only one! I also found out that a friend who lives in the canyon right below E's house heard us singing for HOURS...

Haven't had a chance to write in a few days. I'll explain later. Can't write right now either, but everything is fine, and I hope to get you all up to speed later this afternoon. Thanks for waiting!

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

The Day just Flew

So, this was my project today. I have gotten it into my head that I will transfer all my old Hi8 tapes to my computer, learn how to use the movie software, and edit everything down and burn some DVDs for posterity. Step one, I looked into having a service do the transfer for me, but I think that will be prohibitively expensive, and I'm not wild about sending all the movies we made of Leila as a baby/toddler/kid into the ether and maybe never seeing them again. The videos also contain her birth, and I'm not sure I want some video geek seeing that. I'm not even sure I want to see it; it may have been my finest hour, but definitely not my prettiest.

Anyway, my friend L tells me, "No problem! Borrow my camera! It has backward compatibility capability (mouthful much?) and I have a magical cable that you plug into your computer and it will download in real time." She lends me her camera, but the batteries are dead, and she can't find the power cord. Strike one.

Then, I send my need out into the universe, and A. a mom at school, says "Yeah, I have one of those cameras, with a power cord and the magical cable." She even remembers to bring it to school the next day, and I am on my way. Except I'm not, and all I see when I put my old Hi8 tapes in, is blue screen. I do lots of internet digging only to find that her camera is a 250, which is not supposed to have this capability, instead of a 350 that does. She does not believe me, and we have yet to put this issue to bed, but, basically, strike two.

I still have L's camera, and I've used A's power cable with it, and I think I am on my way again, except I'm not. Still getting a blue screen. I do all the same internet research for L's camera that I did for A's, hours worth, and I learn that the 460 should be able to do this, and L says she has done it loads of times. After even more research and trouble shooting, I am about to conclude that her camera needs service, and its just not going to work. At that moment, I hear voices, and I realize that the camera is playing my tape! I am watching a 4 year-old Leila look for easter eggs in the back yard! So I quickly rewind and plug everything in, and for about five minutes, everything works according to plan. I am very excited, and I tell the whole family not to touch anything on the computer or camera, lest the whole thing fall to pieces, which it does anyway for no reason I can fathom. It stops importing, and I can't replicate anything, and I'm back to concluding that the camera is fucked. Strike three.

I'm now sitting at my desk surrounded by three camcorders, none of which can do the job I need them to do. In the last day, I have not won the lottery, so I still can't afford send the tapes to a service. I did buy a lottery ticket today, so maybe by tomorrow this will have changed. But I just jinxed it, so nevermind.

Have you ever noticed that these types of projects can so easily suck up an entire day? So, if you are out there, and you have a solution to this problem that I can afford (rent another camera or machine that can do what I need it to do?) I want to hear about it ASAP. And don't tell me to clean the tape heads; I just don't see that making any difference (although, if it saves me $ I suppose I could part with a few q-tips and rubbing alcohol...)

AND ANOTHER THING! What's with the no comments on Leila's rock video? Are you immune to the cuteness or something? Come on!

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Budding Rockstar

Leila has designs on being a rock star. She had some cake after dinner last night and exploded in song. Then she figured out how to accompany herself on piano, using both hands. She's freaking me out, man! Her song lyrics include the word "oppratunity." Don't you just want to eat her up? She wanted to sing her song in class, but they ran out of time, and she was all weepy about it when I went to pick her up. But she's going to play it at piano class today, while I try not to laugh. Right this minute, she is figuring out which canned drum beat to add to her opus. I asked her if she wanted me to make a movie of her singing and playing her new song (for your benefit) and she says she has to practice it a little more first. I can't wait to show it to you!

Its hot again today, and will be hot all week. Freakin' California. I've been really bored this week. I have earned my Bored Housewife title. I think about the stuff that needs to be done around here, and then I lie down and take a nap so I don't have to think about that stuff for a while.


Is this the best thing EVER??
video

Monday, September 21, 2009

Warning, Explicit Language

I lost my shit this morning. Leila is going through a sass phase. Sass R Us. Sass all the time. Sass Sass Sass. Pain in my ass ass ass.

I finally got her out of bed this morning by standing in her doorway pointing a spray bottle of water at her head. Then it was all about... Sass. I'm not going to school today. Its not fair. I don't care if I lose a blue bead. I don't care if I don't eat breakfast. You can't make me. etc etc. So I had what can only be considered a rational response to a person who is determined to break you down first thing on a Monday morning. I yelled. Loud. And how.

"You know what? I CAN'T TAKE ONE MORE MINUTE OF YOUR SASS! Starting now, you are going to lose something dear to you every time you sass me. iPod? GONE! Wii? GONE! You name it, ITS GONE!

AND ANOTHER THING! Get your own self ready for school, I've had it! I'm going to mind my own business, and you can just figure it out, and if you're late to school, you can just march your self into the office and tell them why. I'M DONE!"

I think I got my point across without adding, "Shut the fuck up! I'm sick of this bullshit!" I didn't say that, but I really, really wanted to. I did throw a God-dammit in there, and that usually lets her know that I mean business.

I hate feeling that way in the morning. No one should have to start their day being crapped on by a seven year-old. Screw that. Amazingly, she did get herself ready for school, didn't skip any steps, packed her backpack, and we did not speak to each other at all, even while I was putting sun screen on her. Then we started walking to school, and the fresh air softened me a little bit and I told her that I just couldn't take it any more, and that I didn't deserve it, and she apologized and said it was all her fault. Which it was, really, but I still feel like a douche every time she says that.

This little episode came right on the heels of an afternoon spent watching home movies in which she is so cute, at age three, singing Rudolph, and reading books to herself, with her little lisp and her crazy hair. I had all these lovey-dovey feelings toward her, and then she went and ruined it. Damn kids. You love 'em and they drive you ape shit.

Friday, September 18, 2009

Kitty Kitty

Right after this is written, I am going to Home Depot, and I am buying an air conditioner. I know its the end of the season, and everything will be picked over, but I don't care. I don't even care if I get a good one, I just need something to get me through what will hopefully be the last heatwave of the summer (and fall) until I can bank enough cash to get central air. I'm doing it, and you can't stop me.

**ADDENDUM** As it turns out, air conditioners are a little more complicated than I anticipated. I was kind of naively expecting that they were like space heaters and you could just pick one up. Not so. I went to three stores. I found a small window air conditioner, but realized that I would not be able to install it myself, so my most immediate need would not be met. In another store, I found what I was looking for, a roll around, free-standing air conditioner, but it was the size of a small refrigerator and was around $400. Nutballs. So, I bought a new fan, and almost cried right there in the OSH. Then Thomas Dolby's Silk Pajamas came on my iPod on the way home and made me feel a little better. I'm now going to bust open the yellow pages and get some estimates for central air. I'm trying to think long term, but its hard when I'm a sweaty mess.

So, remember how I told you that my cat woke me up in the middle of a really good dream last night and ruined it? Well, yesterday afternoon, I was petting this same cat, and I said to him, "I love you. You are a good boy. But, please, would you wait to snuggle with me until my alarm goes off in the morning? I know you like to snuggle in the morning, and so do I, but I just need you to wait a little longer, and not wake me by sticking me with the needles you call claws. Please? That'd be great, thanks." I said this out loud. To my cat. He looked at me through half open eyes, purred, rolled, went to sleep.

But. It. Worked.

He did not wake me up today, like he has every morning of his life. He waited until the alarm went off, and then slithered up to me and leaned against me and purred and and kept his claws to himself. Heaven. I'm going back to the bedroom right now to thank him.

Thursday, September 17, 2009

Yahoo Lies

My yahoo weather says that it is 75 degrees in my town right now. It is made of lies. The thermometer that I had Rob attach outside the kitchen window says its 90 degrees. Dammit all! I hate global warming. I washed my hair and blow dried it, and now my head is sweaty. I hate that.

I have been in a foulish mood all day. It started when I was having a great dream that was put an end by a cat kneeding on my arm. Damn cat. Then, Rob moved up the time on the radio alarm ten minutes which means we wake up to commercials. I hate waking up to commercials. It blows. I had it set perfectly, so that I wake up to the middle of a song, and then my radio people come on the entertain me for 15 minutes before I have to get up. It was perfect, and this morning it was wrecked.

After I took Leila to school, I took a shower and started to read my next book club book and I fell asleep on the couch with the dog. This is not a reflection on the book, on which I am still reserving judgement. I woke up with a headache. I put on some make up, just to kill time. I could have done dishes, but I feel like I'm on an involuntary dishes strike. I just can't seem to bring myself to do them.

There is a fly in my house that I have been trying to kill all day, and it wont die. Leila and a friend are playing Wii and its so frustrating (but also kind of funny) when the other kid has never played, and she's pointing the remote up in the air and behind her and wondering why her cowboy keeps crashing into the fence.

I am going out to drink some wine with some friends tonight, so that should change my mood. It will be cooler, and I'll have wine, and maybe I'll eat something delicious.

Tomorrow is Friday, though. Friday!

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

Where's Fabio when we Need Him?

Today is my blogoversary! One year ago, I started writing about how my house is a mess, my animals are annoying, and how I hate to make dinner, and I'm still writing about the same BS a year later. Who knew? So before I write another few paragraphs about what is annoying me on this fine Wednesday, I just want to thank a few people: Thanks to J. for telling me to write a blog in the first place, and not shutting down my decorating ideas yet. Thanks to all my white-pants PTA moms for letting me expose them for the wild, bawdy MILFs they really are. Thanks to my husband for never getting mad when I write about his bad breath or his nightly nose-strip. And thanks to my readers (and commenters!) you all make me feel like a big shot!

Here is the first blog post I ever wrote. Nothing much has changed except that Leila is now 7, and in second grade. My house is in about the same state it was in a year ago, I'm still hungry, the puppy is a degree or two calmer, and I have a new TV.

Lately, I have been thinking about romance. I stayed up way too late to watch the last hour of Pride and Prejudice with Keira Knightly, complete with underbite, and Matthew Macfayden, who is really more dashing than handsome. I don't really care about the first two thirds of the movie; I don't care who Mr. Bingley is, and you can keep all the dancing, and, frankly, you can kind of keep Keira Knightly, too. But then, in the last hour, there is Mr. Darcy. Mmmmmm. Again, he's really not that handsome. I mean, he doesn't make me want to puke or anything, but its more the look on his face; he's so in love with Elizabeth Bennet, and in that scene, in the rain, where she is all pissed off and says, through her underbite, that he is "the last man in the world that I could ever be prevailed upon to marry!" His face just falls, like he's taken a bullet. There are more scenes in which he's dashing, but, in the end, and this is what I stayed up late for (Rob says to me, Are you asleep? And I open my eyes and say No! I have to stay awake so I can watch Mr. Darcy walk across the grass in his long coat!) Miss Elizabeth is taking a pre-dawn walk on the moors or whatever the hell they call them, and when she looks over the horizon, she sees Mr. Darcy striding purposefully toward her, and the music swells, and he has on a white shirt and riding pants and boots and a long duster that looks like a cape from far away, and I am just breathless. And he professes his love for her - again - and in spite of the fact that she has too many teeth in her mouth - and they huddle together without kissing, and the sun comes up behind them, and that's where the movie should end. But, it doesn't. The rest of it is Keira Knightly weeping with joy and being a little annoying.

Here's the thing:
You know that stereotype of the middle aged housewife who reads harlequin romances and thinks Fabio is attractive? The one who watches soap operas and is surly toward her husband when he comes home from work because his name is, like, Bob, and he's an accountant with a paunch and an appendectomy scar instead of a gay actor named Chance or Zander with his shirt off, a trust fund and a "bad boy" reputation? You know what I'm talking about.

I think I may be becoming one of those women. I don't watch soap operas, and I don't read romance novels, and I think Fabio is a joke, but I think I might be starved for romance. And you know what the pisser of it is? Its an impossible itch to scratch! Unless you're young and freshly in love, or a character of fiction, its really a no-win situation. Romance boils down to your husband going to the corner store for a vanilla drumstick because you're really in the mood for ice cream. That's pretty good. Or taking out the recycling without being asked. That's not bad. But I think I just have to resign myself to the fact that movie romance is out of my reach, and I should just download Pride and Prejudice on iTunes and watch the last hour whenever I feel the need.

Ah, yeah, that's the stuff.



Now, its lunch time.

p.s. As a little bonus, mostly to myself, I wanted to post the best comment I've ever gotten. Thanks, AlwaysAllah!

"I am 24 years old and in the midst of planning a wedding and trying to figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life. I've always known I want to be a mom - and a stay at home mom at that! The problem has always been that I am not a terribly domesticated woman...I hate cleaning, picking up after myself and others and the thought of it exhausts me! I thought that meant I needed to be a career woman...but that really doesn't float my boat! After reading your blog it's made me realize that I CAN be a mom and stay home and not be a domestic goddess...it's okay! I think the time you put into the relationship with your daughter and husband is 100x more important than cleaning the pink stain on your bathtub. (I just got rid of mine this week too!)"

Monday, September 14, 2009

Coke is Good Food

I had the best weekend EVER! Here's why it was so great:

1) Not only did it rain, but we had a thunderstorm! Very rare in this part of the country. The thunder woke Leila up, and we stayed up from four to five in the morning watching it and saying, "ooh! That was a big one!" Then it rained on Saturday and Sunday, and I loved every little droplet.

2) Because it rained, we hung out at home. We were kind of shocked by the weather, and it felt like we stared out the windows all weekend.

3) My parents bought Leila a Wii on Saturday! Its was like Christmas morning around here.

4) I took naps (see #1) and I got to eat Chinese food. I love it when we order too much, and everything is plentiful and you can pick at it, and its delicious, and there are leftovers.

5) I had a coke. Coke tastes extra good with Thai food and Chinese food. So I had a coke okay? Back off!

6) My good friend came over and we went to the fabric store to pick out fabrics for my other friend's baby. We got some good stuff. I followed that with a trip to the paint store. Its good to have a hobby, I guess.

7) My friend who is adopting the baby has not yet told be to back off, and seems to be on board with my ideas. Let's see how far I can take it.

8) We have leftover cake. Need I say more?

9) I started drinking wine at four in the afternoon yesterday.

The weekend really felt like four days. Friday night felt like two nights, and Saturday felt like a regular day but Sunday felt like three days. It was awesome

Now, L has a playdate over and they are - surprise - playing Wii. The other little girl is having a little trouble aiming her remote at the sensor, so her fishing pole is all over the place. Y'know, I worked in the video game industry for seven years, and I never played a video game. I vowed I would never have a video game console in my house, but, much as I hate to admit it, Wii is fun. There, I said it: Wii IS FUN! COKE IS GOOD!

Sunday, September 13, 2009

My Latest Obsession

I think I may be going crazy. Nuts. 'Round the bend. And more than normal, not just the usual amount.

I have been completely obsessing on fabrics, paint chips, duvet covers, pillows, rick-rack, carpet squares, and I topped it off this morning with an old stand-by, the Elfa closet. I am custom making things in my mind, even though I can't actually sew, and have very few skills.

Here's the thing:

Its not even my house I'm obsessing over. No, the house I'm obsessing over isn't even in my state. And I'm pulling others into my obsession, and they are also starting to become obsessed.
My friend is adopting a baby very soon, and, too save her time and stress, I am designing the baby's room. Okay. The truth is, I'm shoving her out of my way so I can design her baby's room. I'm being totally pushy and over bearing, but I JUST CAN'T HELP MYSELF!

Luckily, she has known me for a long time, knows that I need a life (which I clearly do) and that I'm safely 817 miles away and I can't do any real damage. She also has enough credit points with me that she can tell me to back off whenever she needs to, or just not answer my calls.

But what I have in mind is so pretty, so adorable, without being babyish or girlie, and if she wont let me do it, I'll just have to find someone who will. I'll start approaching random pregnant women at the mall with fabric swatches, and let them know that, if given an unlimited budget, I could design the baby room of their dreams. Exactly how many takers do you think I would get?

I can't redecorate anything in my own house. Everything has already been painted and carpeted and fabrics and elfa are already in place, so I need a new house to do! This obsession will pass eventually, and she'll put me in my place, and I'll go back to whatever I was doing before, which was nothing, and I'll be dejected and pathetic, looking longingly at pregnant women at the mall, not because they get to have babies, screw that, but because they get to shop for stuff. Now, I'm depressed.


Friday, September 11, 2009

Blind and Loving It

I am rocking and rolling today. I have a long list, but I've already checked off half of the things on it, so I can spend a few minutes with y'all. Leila is going to decorate a birthday cake for my mom. I'm having the family over for dinner tonight, and she is doing the cake. Actually, I baked the cake, and I mixed all the frosting colors and put them in the pastry bags, and I will put a crumb coat on the cake, but other than that, she's doing it. I kind of got excited and made up the design instead of letting her do it. She was into it, though, and didn't seem disappointed, so I think I'm okay. Its going to be a yellow flower with an orange middle and a green stem. I'll take a picture when its done and show you.

I'm making a pork roast for dinner. Its supposed to be 90 degrees here today, but once I make a decision I have a really hard time unmaking it, so pork roast it is. I have just mentally prepared myself that I'm going to be a hot, sweaty, miserable mess until 6 o'clock. Then I can drink cold cocktails and everything will be okay.

Yesterday, I took my mom to a beauty salon and had her eyebrows done. She hates them. She thinks they go too far down the outside of her eyes. This is where the people who know the beauty rules say eyebrows are supposed to go, but my mom prefers to draw hers on so they disappear into her temples. I don't mean draw, like, a dark, high-arched line, hers are more subtle. At least now her brows are all one color. She had a big poof of brow on either side of the bridge of her nose, and they were grey and white, and the she would draw on the the outside half of her brows (out toward the temples, like they were plotting an escape from her face) in a light brown pencil. She didn't see the problem, but I couldn't take it anymore. So I got her waxed and tinted, and now she's learning to live with normal looking eyebrows which is apparently much harder than I thought it would be.

After the brows, the make up ladies took over. They were very respectful of the fact that she didn't want to look like she was wearing make up, and they did a beautiful job. No Tammy-faye to be seen. I bought her a bunch of stuff, and then I bought me a bunch of stuff, which I totally don't need since I wear make up, like, twice a month, maybe.

I love to buy make up. There's so much promise. I always think that, this time, I have found the magic tube or jar or powder that will make me look like a younger, thinner version of myself, only more fabulous, and then I'll walk into a store and buy jeans that make me look irresistible. Irresistible to whom, though? My husband is blind to how I look, which is kind of a blessing; I can put in minimal effort and still get laid pretty much whenever I want. I can also eat a scone while pushing a cart through the Whole Foods and not think too much about it. I can also pee with the door open. But make up can change all that, right?

If you're married or have been with the same person for a while, isn't it so hard to see them? I couldn't tell you if my husband is good looking any easier than I could tell you if my brother is good looking. I am told that he is (the husband,) and I know he looks better than he did when I married him, but that's about the best I can do. Really, thank God for the blindness that years offer me. Otherwise, I would be sca-rewed.

I have to clean the house for tonight, but I'd really rather take a little snooze. A pre-cleaning nap never hurt anyone right? I can still get it all done, right? Thanks, you're a big help.

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

Cereal is the Devil's Breakfast

I am fu-ull. I had an EAT day today. You know how every once in a while you just have a day when you can't get enough to eat? That was today, for me. I started the day with a small bowl of cereal which is always a problem; I'm always hungry about an hour after a bowl of cereal. So, at around 11:00 in the morning, I had half a roll with leftover pulled pork. It didn't satisfy, so I preheated the oven for a Stouffers french bread pizza. A friend called to to say she was stopping by, so I made two and we had lunch together. I had a big glass of milk, and it kind of put me over the edge. Have you ever drank (drunk) too much milk? Its a sickening feeling like no other.

I called Rob's cell phone while he was on the bus home and said, "I'm not feeling very dinner-making tonight." He took that to mean that he would not be greeted by me in my pearls with a home-cooked meal on the table. I told him we could split a burrito. This is what I love about him: he couldn't care less. In fact, I've been plotting an experiment whereby I leave progressively grosser foods on the counter to see what he'll actually eat. I have learned that if there is food on the counter as he walks by, he will stuff it in his mouth. It doesn't matter if I have made dinner, or if I was saving it, or if I was discarding it, he eats it. I once made a batch of blueberry muffins, and had left the blueberries out of two muffins for Leila, since she might collapse on herself if fruit of any kind enters her atmosphere. So there were two blueberry-less muffins on the counter, and as Rob walked by, he stuffed a whole muffin in his mouth like a pig. I can't tell you how many times I have had to explain to him that maybe he could ask first before he eats stuff. I know its his house, too, and it his food, too, but its my office, so ask first, buddy!

Anyway, I went out and got a burrito and some chips and salsa, and got Leila some Spanish rice (which, she declared, was too spicy; How is Spanish rice too spicy? She was jumping around like she had slurped a spoonful of wasabi. Drama.) Now I'm full. Eventually, my stomach will settle enough to have a little ice cream after L goes to bed. I do my best eating after she goes to bed. That's when the dessert comes out, or the extra glass(es) of wine.

I don't know what brought on my EAT day. I'm not PMSing (much to the relief of anyone who knows me.) I think it was the cereal. It never ends well when I eat cereal, but I cannot live on eggs and toast alone. When I eat eggs for breakfast, I forget to have lunch. Its that simple.

So now I'm sitting on a small space on the sofa surrounded by: a dismembered newspaper, my next book club book, L's empty backpack, her super girl cape, a Safeway receipt ripped to shreds by my dog, and what's left of the stuffed bunny he has been dragging around for two weeks. Leila is whining because Daddy Play Time is over and she has to get her PJS on and go to bed. I pushed the bed time up a half hour and its made all the difference in the morning. Like night and day, pun intentional.

Happy Birthday, Brynne!

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

zzzzzzzzzzzz.

Nothing is happening. I don't have anything interesting to say. I have too many readers from Leila's school now, so I can't comment on them as freely as I once did. So, here are a few things that are on my mind:

1) I love the dictionary function on the mac and I use it all the time. It is one of the best inventions ever.

2) I am sick to death of drinking water. I am still enjoying the benefits of not drinking soda, but water is so boring, and juice has as many calories as soda. I just want a coke, man!

3) I have a sore throat, and will now spend the rest of my day taking my temperature and stressing about getting sick and having IVs. I hate IVs because they poke me in the arm, but I love them because I don't have to drink boring water.

4) I finished my book club book over the weekend, and cried on the sofa. I hate crying. (Time Traveler's Wife)

5) I am conflicted on a couple of fronts, and I need to make some decisions. I hate hard choices.

6) I am mailing birthday cards late because I am a loser and I forgot about Labor Day.

7) I am putting myself to sleep, so I'll stop here. If anything interesting happens in my day, I'll let you know. Zzzzzzzzzz.

Sunday, September 6, 2009

Crabby Pants

Leila is so crabby today. Granted, I did not feed the child breakfast until, like, 10:30, because I was watching Four Weddings and a Funeral on TV. Then we went to the farmers market and waited in line for an ETERNITY for a Belgian waffle. She ate kettle corn while we were waiting, so, basically, that's what she had for breakfast. Mother of the Year? Right here, baby!

But this is what I've had to endure all morning: "I am NOT changing my shirt!" When it was pointed out to her that her shirt was on backwards: "I WANT it this way!" "I am NOT going to the farmers market, I want to have a PLAYDATE!" "My FEET itch! I want to go HOME!" "I'm sooooo HUNGRY!"

I had to hold her hand the whole time she was spewing her vitriol, and, I'm telling you, I wanted to drop her hand and lose her in the crowd, but not before I yelled, "I AM SICK OF YOUR BULLSHIT!" into her pretty little face. She was much nicer after she ate. Huh, waddya know?

She's been having a rough time lately. Second grade is a bitch. Every morning, I have to listen to her dramatic recitation of the age old platitude, "I am not going to school today." She hasn't bothered to make up excuses yet, she just informs me that, today, she's not going. Then I say she has to go or the police will come and throw her in jail, and she says, "I don't care. I'll go to jail, because I am NOT going to school." I try to be a nice mom and cajole her out of bed with tickling and music and jokes, and then, after fifteen minutes of threatening to have her arrested, my blood starts to boil and I say, calmly, "I am about to get really mad." That seems to do the trick, but it doesn't actually work unless I really am about to get really mad, which sucks for me because I hate to feel that way in the morning.

Next, if memory serves, she will not feel well every morning, and I will be mean because "YOU DON'T KNOW MY FEELINGS!"

After school, however, I have the hardest time getting her out of the classroom because she doesn't want to leave. On Friday, she was making a yellow star for Ms. Hancock to wear on her sweater that said, "you're my hero." Could she make up her mind?

Right now, fortified by a Belgain waffle and kettle corn, she is running through the house with a beach towel secured around her neck with a binder clip. She's super girl. Super crabby, moody, unpredictable, drive-me-to-an-early-grave girl. She keeps telling us to let us know if Super Girl can help us with anything, and when Rob asked if Super Girl could put her socks away, he was informed that that was beneath super girl. She added, "You could pretend that something is ATTACKING you, or something! Its a GAME, y'know!"

Friday, September 4, 2009

Baguette-Off

I am all over the place today, so here are just a few things that are rolling around in my brain today:

1) I'm having my own baguette taste test. I used to live in France, and I've decided to scientifically figure out where I can buy the best french baguette. I'm on my third one, and so far the results are: La Boulange (which, technically, in French, doesn't mean anything) was ok, crust was a little tough, but its possible that it was later in the day when I bought it. This bakery in North Beach that I forget the name of, so far the winner. Pretty perfect. Champagne Bakery, a supposedly french cafe, but there's very little about it that's French, terrible baguette. Its like they walked over to the Safeway and got one of theirs. Just awful. If you have any suggestions, please let me know.

2) I thank God for the computer, because how would I ever procrastinate otherwise? I have successfully put off blow drying my hair for half an hour. My head is wrapped in a towel right this minute. AND, if not for the computer, I would not have been turned on to Shitmydadsays on Twitter; even if you don't tweet, check this out. I laughed my ass off.

3)Why can't my dog stop bringing wood chips in the house and chewing them up and spitting them out so that there is wood chip debris all over the floor at all times? And why, when the yard is covered in wood chips (our attempt at landscaping) must he dig in the lawn and in the dirt for what must be the perfect wood chip? Why can't he just go down, grab a wood chip off the top, chew it OUTSIDE, and be done with it?

4) What am I going to eat next? And why does only one market in town carry the kind of yogurt tubes Leila likes necessitating an extra trip?

How about a Friday Five, and then I really have to blow dry my hair. And brush my teeth.

1) In what way this week were you reckless? Um...I pulled out of my driveway without looking both ways and was nearly hit by a little green truck. I was just so hot and cranky. I'm a really good driver (knock wood) but I make little mistakes like this from time to time, and I always feel like I want to wave over the other driver, who now thinks I'm a spaz, and offer them my complete driving record so they know that their experience with me is an aberration and not indicative of my quotidian driving habits. I obsess about it way longer than I should.

2) In what way were you shameless: Duh, eaves dropping on my hotel neighbors during their sexcapades (which you can read about here)

3) In what way were you fearless? I spoke in front of people, but not very well. I'm not very afraid of public speaking (surprised? All eyes on me, people! Me Me ME!) so maybe it doesn't count. I don't believe I was fearless this week. I'll have to get back to you.

4) In what way were you thoughtless? I haven't made two phone calls that I need to make, and the longer I wait the more irrelevant they will be, until its too late to make any sense and then I've just bailed on a commitment.

5) In what way were you doubtless? I have no doubt that I will buy an air conditioner before next summer. I have no doubt that I couldn't care less about what Sarah Palin has to say about anything, especially considering she doesn't have a job. I have no doubt that second grade is going to be a rude awakening to my poor kid, who has finally realized that summer vacation is even better than getting up early and going to school. I have no doubt that my dog is a stinky mess right now, and I have no doubt that my husband will bathe him this weekend. I have no doubt that if I don't blow dry my hair RIGHT NOW it will look bad all weekend, and I'll have to wear a hat.

Have a good weekend!!

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Too Hot in the Hot Tub

Its too hot to blog. Its too hot to do anything but bitch and moan, and sweat and be crabby, and drink cold water. I cannot take this heat. I hate it. I've decided that, after we get a new sofa, we will saving for central air conditioning. People where I live don't generally have air conditioning because it doesn't get that hot, that often, and the nights are cool. Not cool enough for me, and I think that, even if I only use it five afternoons a year, it will be worth every penny.

Rob makes a point that our house isn't insulated, and our windows are old an inefficient and that we should fix those things before thinking about an air conditioner, but I think that's bullshit. Having an uninsulated inefficient house doesn't stop us from heating our house in the winter, right?

By the end of these hot days, I want to cry, and scream, and drink margaritas. I don't want to put laundry away, or make a meal, or be a hospitable person in any way.

My dad is coming over for dinner tonight, and I haven't done a thing. I'm going to make coleslaw, and I just can't find the motivation I need to go into the kitchen and do it. I think I'll play computer solitaire on the couch, in front of the fan, and just count the minutes until it cools down. And, no matter what the weather report says, its always warmer than they say its going to me. Someone just kill me.

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

Oh Holey Jeans

Leila blew out the knee in one of her newer pair of jeans. Dammit! Why must she play dog on the playground at school and crawl around on her hands and knees??? Why must she torture me in this way? I sounded like such a mom when I saw her jeans. I gave her a whole Jeans Don't Grow on Trees speech and she just stared at me while I ranted and then said, "sorry, mommy." and I felt like a douche bag.

I can't figure out how to patch jeans. I buy these iron-on pieces of crap at the fabric store, and they peel off after one wearing. I don't have a sewing machine (which is good, since it would just get stuffed piled on top of it because I don't know how to sew) so that's out, and I'm at my wit's end.

I could just let her wear jeans with holes in them, you say? What's the big deal, you ask? I don't know what the big deal is, but I did not just shell out cash for pants and shirts and new school shoes so this kid could wear holey jeans.

I look at all the pants in her closet and I can already see the holes they are bound to get. Its so sad. When I was a kid, and my mom got me new sneakers, I would, on purpose, drag the soles of the shoes on the ground while I was riding my bike so that I would get new shoes again, sooner. Why are kids such losers?

Which reminds me! Why do kids today have so many pair of shoes? I got, like, two pairs of shoes per year. Fall shoes, summer sandals, maybe a pair of sneakers or fancy shoes, and that was it. Leila has three pairs of sneakers, two pairs of sandals, two pairs of flip flops, crocs, three pairs of mary janes in varying degrees of fanciness, one pair of rain boots, one pair of ankle boots and slippers. And before you say anything, I did not buy all of these shoes. But, upon reflection, I did buy more of them than I thought I did...

Happy Birthday tomorrow, Alice!

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

At last...

Pig...

Pig no longer. What a good room cleaner she is!

Let's Play a Game

This is what I did today:

Pig...

Not a pig.


Pig...


Not a Pig.

Leila has been instructed to clean her room this afternoon, so she's still a pig.