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Showing posts from April 4, 2010

Bad Date #86

I worked with weird guy's mother. She was nice. Her son seemed nice. Kind of nervous. (At the time I thought it endearing.) Weird guy's mother convinced me to go out on a date with weird guy. I suppose I shouldn't give away the date by describing him as weird...

We went to the movies. Even though he lived in a small city which had two functioning theaters, he figured we'd drive an hour-and-a-half south to meet up with his sister and his sister's boyfriend. Odd. It was snowing. I would've preferred to stick around town, but whatever. This would give us time to talk and get to know each other. (Or opportunity to drive to the middle of nowhere and dump my body.)

So weird guy starts talking. And talking. And doesn't stop. I figure he's nervous. (Again, slightly endearing. I know. I needed professional help. I got it after this date.) So, weird guy is talking about his mom and his sister and things he did growing up and that the government wants everyone to …

Dog Lovers Unite!

I was going to go rock-wall climbing last night but by the grace of God that was nixed and an evening with the gals at the cottage was about to ensue. (Thank you, God, for realizing I am in no shape to climb up a wall.) So I sang my way home - yes, sang. As in, radio cranked with Lady GaGa as my duet partner right after Pink and I rocked the Nissan. Anyway. Jolly, I was, as I walked in the house, because what could be better than a glass of wine among friends? Especially when the significant other was tethered to the house with the teen, the baby and the kid in the middle. However, that jolliness did not last very long.

"I just called you," Big V announced.

"Sorry. I was working on my demo."



"The baby needs to go to the hospital."

"What?! Why?! What happened?"

"I don't know..."

"You don't know? Is he bleeding? Can it wait about 3 glasses of wine?"



Don't forget to Vote!

Since I had the baby six months ago but still look very much pregnant (I could seriously get contracted as Buddha's belly double) I decided to force myself into doing something other than sitting in front of a computer, or a television, or a chocolate cake. I organized the Office Climb, which is pretty much me and my two male co-workers talking a lot about wanting to reduce our belly size, but doing very little about it. (The one guy keeps hauling in donuts and Coke. He should be forced to scrape up my crumbs with bamboo under his nails.)

Every Tuesday, Thursday and Friday we vowed to climb up this super duper high hill across the street from our office. There's a bike path that defies gravity, so it's perfect for a wanted calorie burn. Except today is Tuesday. And an election. And election days mean two things: (1) you vote, and (2) there's an awful lot of food in this office. Election Officers like to eat. And they eat good. We're talking donuts and orange juice …

Life is certainly not fair at all.

I sent Dotter to school today. With a zit. That's right. The poor 8-yr old had a huge pimple on her chin. I tried not to draw attention to it. What the heck is a pimple doing on a second grader's chin? And it was a pimple. It wasn't a bug bite. Or a pimple you could convince others was a bug bite. It was a pimple. Plain and simple. And ready to pop.

The Salsa with the Spice & the Spunk!

I get giddy when I see an envelope in my mailbox with a hand written return address. It usually means a thank you, an invite, or anything other than a requirement to send in some money in exchange for heat or electricity. Imagine, if you will, the overflowing excitement I experienced when I came home to find a HUGE BOX on my doorstep. A BOX, people. A really big box!

Now I know I've told you about the pending arrival of a jar of salsa... I thought I was getting onejar of feisty fun. One. I thought I hit paydirt with a singular jar of Feisty Mama Salsa ... But, oh no - this box was way too big for a single little jar....

This was a party in a box! Invites, plates, napkins, a cute, adorable tunic to wear at the fiesta, and thank you's. The only thing missing was the mustache & sombrero!  (And here I thought I was waiting for a jar!)


That's not all! There was more!

Much... much... more!

Twelve jars from the Mama herself. Blended smooth with a kic…

Come out, Come out, Wherever you are!

I like how accommodating the Easter Bunny is. He's so in tune with different family traditions and that's why there are so many variations on what happens with all those eggs.

In our house we hard-boil eggs and decorate them. The dye gets spilled on my only unstained dish towel that I own. Fingers look like a judicial booking gone bad. Everyone complains because the purple looks more like khaki. Good times all around.

Then the eggs get stored in the fridge until the Easter Bunny tip-toes in, while we're all sound asleep, and hides those eggs in silly spots around the house.

Although it's not so funny when you can't find one of those darn eggs and the rabbit didn't even think about leaving a stupid map and you know in three days that still hidden egg is going to start smelling something fierce, especially with this warm, sunny weather we've been having....