Tuesday, June 29, 2010


We watched Revolutionary Road last night.  You know, that movie with Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio that's not Titanic?  Great movie.  Fantastic movie.  But boy did it fuck with my whole day.  I'm kind of speechless and pissed and sad.  Not as sad as after the last episode of Lost, but sad enough.

My mom saw the movie a while ago and she thought the wife "was a little nuts" and my friend, who I talked about the movie with this morning, thought she was too, but I think she's the sanest person in the whole flick.  I know that if you haven't seen the movie, none of what I'm saying makes sense, hence the brevity of this post.

If I didn't feel like a prisoner in my own home yesterday, I sure do today.  Thankfully, its 2010, not the 1950's and thankfully I'm not pregnant.  Might be nice to have Leo DiCaprio money for a couple days, though...

Also, I made gaspatcho soup yesterday.  Rob doesn't like it, but I love it.  I've been eating/drinking it all day.  So good, and relatively healthy which is to say it contains vegetables and no butter.  Soup is good food!

Monday, June 28, 2010

Rock On, Little Sister!

So check this out, this is amazing:

Saturday night, we took Leila to her first rock concert, Brandi Carlile.  It was Rob's idea.  Since Leila knows all the words to her songs, and the show would be over by 10:30 he figured she could make it through without crashing too hard and ruining it for everybody.  

There are a pair of twin guys in this band, and they often dress like this:
You've got the skinny jeans, button down shirt, and little hat, and often converse sneakers on the feet.  We thought it would be fun for Leila to dress up like this since she has all the ingredients, so she looked like this:

Before we went to the show, Leila spent some time in her room making this sign:

Our seats at the show had a fine view but there was a space, like a little walkway, where we could be a little closer and stand and dance.  Leila really wanted Brandi to see her sign, so the closer the better.  So we were singin' and dancin' and Leila was energetically waving her sign during the applause, and I downloaded a flick-your-bic app on my iTouch so I could hold a lighter up during the torch songs, and then this lady with a badge came over to us and I thought, oh, we'll have to go back to our seats now...

But no.  Instead she says, The management of the venue has been watching your daughter and thinks that she is totally cute. We're wondering, if you have time after the show, if she'd like to come backstage and meet the band.

Yes, you read that right.  I almost peed myself.

So we say, uh, YEAH! and the Badge-Lady goes on to say that she can't promise anything because sometimes the band has to leave right after the show, etc. etc. but she'll come back later and let us know.

Can you believe that shit?  It just occurred to me that it would have been way creepy if we had taken her to, like, a Rolling Stones concert or something and the same thing had happened: They think your daughter's cute and want to meet her backstage. But Brandi is a harmless lesbian, so I figure its fine, right?

Anyway, later in the show, Badge-Lady actually does come back and tells us to go down to the right of the stage during the last song or two and ask for Debbie.  Debbie is the overseer of all things, and she will know if we can go back and impress the band with our cute kid.  So we do as we're told, and we're stopped by a security guy, but I drop Debbie's name and he lets us down right near the right of the stage and tells us to wait.  He goes and talks to Debbie, and - alas and alack - should couldn't let us back stage.  We were, however, able to watch the rest of the show from up front, and Leila shook her little sign, and I'm sure the band saw her, and I bet they're still talking about the cute little blonde girl in the little hat.

I tried to decide how pushy I should be.  I'm not a very pushy person - I know, shocking - and I'm wondering now if I should have just strolled down to Debbie (who was standing five feet in front of me in all her power and over-lordness) and just pushed a little bit.  That's what my mom would have done.  She doesn't take no for an answer unless that answer is delivered by a police officer with a gun in her face.  My guess is she would not have been able to withstand the cuteness, and would have let us back there.  Where, upon being in the presence of greatness, I would have completely geeked out and guffawed and fallen all over myself.  I once met Shawn Colvin, another one of my favorite performers, and I just totally embarrassed myself.  I'm sure it wasn't memorable for her, but I still blush when I think about it.  But we'll never know now, will we, because I am such a complete wuss.

Turns out, Leila was very happy not to be forced to meet the great Brandi Carlile.  She said she was too tired.  Can you imagine?  Someone says to you, Hey!  Wanna once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to shake hands with one of your idols?  And you go, Nah, too tired.

It seems like some of my best stories end like this.  Like the time I ALMOST picked up Sean Penn hitchhiking when his car was broken down on the side of the freeway, but we couldn't change lanes fast enough even though we endangered our very lives trying.  He would have had to get in the backseat with Leila (she was a toddler) and what a great story that would have made!  Then there was the time that my mom called me and said her friend had two tickets to see Celine Dion in Vegas that very night and did I want to bolt out to the airport and go?  Of course I wanted to go!  Not that I was dying to see Celine Dion, but what a great story it would make!  I really just wanted to leave that message on my husband's work voicemail: Pick up Leila from the neighbor's when you get home, I had to go to Vegas.  My mom decided it would be too expensive and dropped the idea.  Damn.

So there you go, and ALMOST really great story, but as it is, a pretty good one.

Tuesday, June 22, 2010

Air Mattress Dancing

We're back from camping. Had a great trip, one of the best yet. Weather was great, not too hot or too cold, company was great, I think we got the best camp site in the place, and the wine was plentiful. Here's the thing:

Friday night, I went to the camp site next door to see if they had a funnel I could borrow to fill my camp stove with fuel. I ended up borrowing some foil, which worked well enough, and found out that this couple was attending the nearby Sierra World Music festival along with several hundred other reggae fans. Later, after our wine-soaked evening, we went to bed in our tent, I popped my camping ambien (let's call it cambien) and I heard this noise. I can't really find the words to describe what it sounded like, so I'll just tell you that it was the air mattress creaking in the tent next door. (You know where this is going, right?) So, in my cambien haze, I ask Rob, "what's that sound?" and he's all, "air mattress" but for some reason I didn't believe him.

Tangent: when we first moved into our house, before we had cats of our own, we took care of my brother-in-law's cats. One of them was lapping water in the middle of the night, and when I asked Rob, "what's that sound?" he said, half asleep, "a kid running down the street in flip flops." The next time you hear your cat lapping water in the dark, you'll know exactly why he said this. This could have been the root of me not believing him when he said the noise was an air mattress. That and the drugs.

My mind started wandering and I started thinking that the sound was far off fireworks. Then I started to get concerned that there were fireworks in what is definitely a high fire danger area. Then I bagan to get more paranoid and think that the sound was our campfire come back to life and crackling madly on dried leaves and inching ever closer to our tent. Then I saw the lights of a car go by and I thought that it was the ranger coming to lecture us about our out of control camp fire, and then kick us out of the camp ground in the middle of the night. It felt like this whole line of reasoning went on for HOURS, but that wasn't possible because eventually, I heard the reggae-loving couple next door get to the denouement of their amorous tryst, and their mattress stopped making that noise. I never did get a good night's sleep after that, though. Too much paranoia.

The next night, after some consternation, I popped another cambien and slept like a baby.

The third night, though, the couple was at it again! I should mention here that this was not one of the young, nubile, tattooed and dreadlocked kids that were also in town enjoying the world music: This was a couple in their fifties, and I was kinda proud of them for gettin' in on like that. Anyway, Leila and Rob and I all got in our sleeping bags at the same time, and I hear the lady in the throes, and, even though Leila is already half asleep and hasn't seemed to notice anything, I get nervous that she'll start asking questions. I decide that if she does, I'll tell her that someone in the next site over must have a stomach ache. But in order to avoid this line of questioning in the first place, Rob and start a completely manufactured conversation to cover the sound of the lovemaking. "So, what was your favorite part of the trip so far?" "Those marshmallows sure were delicious!" "This sleeping bag is soooo comfy!" and on and on until the couple next door were clearly finished. I was exhausted.

Here are some pics:

The kid
The dog
The band
the girls

Friday, June 18, 2010

See you Tuesday!

Thursday, June 17, 2010

Ho to the Hum Part Deux

I'm sitting here, sipping a coke, like I have nothing whatsoever to do, and yet I am leaving for a three day camping trip tomorrow. The car needs to be cleaned out, clothes need to be packed, the house needs to be tidied, and I just don't feel like it. I did do all the grocery shopping, and I packed the bag of non-perishable goods (doritos and marshmallows) but I don't have any interest in moving on to the next steps. I was going to make cookies and pasta salad to bring along, but when I opened the camping spreadsheet I found I had written a note on it in big letters, "DON'T BAKE COOKIES! DON'T MAKE PASTA SALAD!" So that made things a little bit easier.

I still don't have anything to write about. Things are a little slow around here. Took the dog for a long walk this morning to tire him out, and he's still as amped as ever.

Okay, I'll see ya.

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

Ho to the Hum

Y'know, I prefer to write when I'm feeling down or mad or annoyed. Its more therapeutic for me. But I haven't needed a whole lot of therapy in the last few days. Actually, I think I could use a WHOLE LOT of therapy, but not the writing kind. But I know you miss me when I don't write, so this is just for you.

This is how I have spent my morning, and you can feel free to envy me all you want. I woke up at 8, and stayed in bed listening to my inane radio program, turning the radio off during the commercials, and playing solitaire on my little hand held device. I should just call it The Solitaire Machine, since that's what its mainly used for. Then I heard L get up and go to the bathroom but instead of jumping into my bed and bothering me when she was done, she turned on her new audiobook (oh, the agony and the ecstasy of the audiobook...) and snuggled back into bed. I got up at 9, made myself a big breakfast of 2 fried eggs, 2 turkey breakfast sausages and a piece of whole grain toast. I'm hoping I wont have to eat for the rest of the day. Then, I checked my garden and saw that my lettuce has finally - FINALLY!- appeared. I sat down with a coke (call it a cup of coffee if it makes you feel better) and read through the easy parts of the new Oprah magazine. No actual articles or anything, just the short-attention-span stuff. I made L some breakfast at around 10, and now, here I am, in my bathrobe, hanging out with you guys.

I think I may start another blog about my garden. But first, I have to get ready for The First Camping Trip of the Camping Season! Today, I will inventory the supplies, make sure everything is clean and has working batteries, refill all the gas powered stuff, and see if there's anything I can weed out because its getting ridiculous. Then I will make a shopping list, and maybe - just maybe - go shopping. Then I will rest, because I can.

See? I'm too calm and contented to write anything of interest right now. I'm sure I'll be irritated by something before the day is out...

(and if I start that garden blog and you're interested in reading it, it will appear in the blog list on the right side of this page.)

Friday, June 11, 2010

71 Days and Counting

Today has been the first day of summer vacation, brought to you by second grade. I avoided the tearful nostalgia I experienced on the last day of first grade by completely forgetting that it was an early dismissal day and finding Leila waiting for me on a bench outside her classroom. We went to a great pool party, a delicious dinner, and now its just the two of us. For 72 days.

I don't have this poor kid signed up for any camps or classes or swim lessons, and, if today was any indication, I better set up some playdates, pronto. We slept in, until 7:30, I did a little cleaning up (a very little cleaning up, in fact,) and we went back to school to help her teacher pack up her room. Then that got old, so we came home for lunch, and then she bothered me every five minutes. She was bothering me every five minutes for the first part of the day, too, but I hadn't worn down her patience yet, so it wasn't as irksome. I have now played several rounds of a mind numbingly boring board game, I have make ooblek (a mixture of corn starch and water that Leila informs me has "visco-elasticity") I have taken her to the neighbor's pool where we have played "mom-boat" and then I made her let me read some of my book and take a nap. My nap was infused with the sound of her latest audiobook, and ended by the sound of crunching. By the time I was fully awake, she had polished off almost a whole bag of baked cheese crunchies (Trader Joes version of cheetohs. Chase 'em with a Red Bull, and there's her dinner.)

So now I'm sitting here, hot and groggy, in my favorite outfit (bathrobe) and I'm not sure I can do this for another 71 days. Which is ironic because I have been looking forward to summer vacation since the first day of school. The next few days are going to be hella hot, too, and I never followed up on getting that air conditioning I promised myself last year. I called a guy, he came out, said my electrical system could support central air and that he'd send me a quote, and then he disappeared.

Mercifully, L is spending the night at my parents tonight, so I will have a break from the unrelenting audiobook, and the constant interruptions. Doesn't this child know that I'm on summer vacation?

Monday, June 7, 2010

I've gone nuts

I don't know what's gotten into me. I think I've gone mad.

First, Rob built a box

then, we filled it with dirt and I planted stuff
It doesn't look like much now, but I planted two pepper plants, 6 pole bean plants, one zuchini, one cucumber, carrot, scallion and lettuce seeds. I don't have high hopes for the lettuce, I'm told its too late, but I'm going for it because, for reasons I can't fathom, I am suddenly very excited to grow things I can eat. We irrigated the whole back yard, too. I've been suspiciously productive lately. Its a little alarming. We cleaned out our garage and under our house last weekend. I don't know where all this is coming from, but I'm going with it.

And remember this?

It now looks like this!
after only 42 days!

You wanna know what else? As of Friday, we don't have cable TV anymore. No more TV for us. So last night, when I was dead tired and my feet hurt, my impulse was to fall on the couch and vedge in front of the TV, and when I remembered that I couldn't, I felt... relieved. Isn't that odd? We sat outside on our beautiful deck, I submerged my achin' feet in hot water, drank a glass of wine, ate some cake, and perused my new gardening book. Huh... Things are getting weirder and weirder all the time...

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

One for the Books

Dude, this day has kicked my ass. Not kicked ass, kicked MY ass, with steel-toed boots. I'm shocked I'm still standing. Actually, I'm not standing at all. I'm sitting with my feet up on the couch, drinking my third glass of wine, fourth if you count the one I had at 11:30 this morning. I threw the kid a bowl of granola for dinner and she mercifully ate quickly and alone. I am serious. My nerves are shot.

Let me 'splain.

I started the day by cancelling cable TV. Times are tough chez Bored Housewife, and nothing is sacred. Not even HGTV and Roseanne reruns. Then I cancelled long distance phone service, but I'm rethinking this. Now, if I call farther than a seven-mile radius from my home, I'm paying twelve cents a minute. This means that if I call Rob at work to prattle on about nothing, it will cost me twelve cents a minute, and that is too high a price to pay for prattle.

I had taken on the job of prepping some food for the PTA luncheon. So far, no problem. But as I was finishing up and washing my hands, I had a freak accident no one on this green earth could have anticipated. See, I've had this little hairline break in my engagement ring for some time. I didn't even know if the break went all the way through, and I really never thought much of it. But while I was washing my hands in the kitchen sink, the ring some how slipped or jammed or I-don't-know-what, but the upshot is the the break in the ring openned up and closed on the skin at the based of my ring finger. I couldn't believe what I was seeing, plus it hurt like a son of a bitch. I sprayed it with windex to get the ring off (it really works, try it) and tugged on the ring, but it was really pinched on there.

It eventually went all the way through the fleshy (very fleshy, if we're being honest) underside of my finger. Its like I had my finger pierced the slow painful way.

Not only was I horrified by the sight of my finger and the pain, but I had to get a huge salad, a big thing of roasted shrimp, and three flower arragements to the site of the meeting, and I was already running late. I called Rob, for twelve cents a minute, and completely fell apart, totally panicked, and after suggesting I go to the fire station to see if they could cut the ring off, a suggestion I still don't quite understand, he put me on hold and called a local jeweler, and they said they could save the finger.

Then I called the PTA president and completely fell apart on the phone with her, and another PTA lady was there, and this is the side of the conversation she heard:" Oh my God! Are you okay?! Oh my god. Okay, how about if K. comes over and takes you? Okay, she'll be there in a minute." Meanwhile, K. is thinking she is about to have to take me to the emergency room, or the police station or somewhere dramatic, but instead, E. hangs up the phone and says, "you have to take Bored Housewife to the jeweler." I had a Jewelry Emergency. I suppose if you have to have an emergency at all, the kind that involves diamond rings and going to a jewelry store is the one you want to have.

So we fly over to the jeweler, and I start crying again because it hurts, and I'm a pitiful dork, and I'm stressed about being late to this meeting, and he takes his magic plyers, like the freakin' jaws of life, and rips the ring off my finger. I think the holes left behind are impressive, but the ring is completely mangled. The ring that I love, have always loved, is a train wreck. I would like to express a theory I have that may be totally wrong: I think if you wait until your thirties or fourties to get married, you get a better ring. When you get engaged at 24, you get rings that break and try to maim you. I'm just sayin'.

When I finally got to the meeting, the ladies were all downstairs discussing important PTA issues, and after I put the food away in the kitchen I openned to fridge to see if there was an open bottle of chardonnay in there, and there was! The angels smiled on me. I poured myself a good slug of wine into a water glass, and went down to the meeting, which is how I came to be swilling the hootch before noon on a school day.

I am pefectly happy that this day is coming to an end. This day can suck it. But I have a full glass, a puppy on my lap, and love in my life, so I think I'll make it.

Can you see the holes? They're just above the wedding ring.

Poor mangled baby!