Showing posts from February, 2012

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. And really ticked off.

Someday I'll tell you about the last couple of days. Not today. It's way too raw. Instead I'll tell you that I had the Best Pizza Ever made and delivered for me by the owner of a local restaurant even though they weren't even open today.Gluten free crust. Pepperjack cheese. And pepperoni. And know that THAT is the only reason I'm still functioning.

Blogger's Index: A Numerical Explanation

N umber of homes I lived in as a child: 2 A ge when I first got glasses: 10 N umber of times I have almost seriously drowned: 3 N umber of times I have been washed off to sea: 1 N umber of times I have been bitten by a horse: 3 N umber of times I have had braces: 0 A ge I first moved out on my own: 17 N umber of places I’ve lived in the past 21 years (not inluding moving back home with the parents): 13 N umber of times I moved back with my parents: 2, +/- 10 L ongest number of years, as an adult, spent living in the same house without moving: 5 P ercentage of time in any given day I think about moving to a different house: 36 N umber of military branches I served in: 1 N umber of guys I dated named Tommy: 3 N umber of times I have consumed mussels: 1 C hances I’ll ever eat mussels again: 0 N umber of jobs held in the telemarketing field: 1 A pproximate number of days spent on that job in the telemarketing field: 6 C hances I’ll ever take a job in the t

Doubt: A Parable. And a Mother's Love

1. MY OLDEST DAUGHTER ASKED TO BE A MONK FOR HALLOWEEN. SHE WAS 2. At first we assumed she wanted to be a monkey. But, no. She insisted that what she wanted to be was a monk. She had just watched a documentary about the Dalai Lama and was infatuated with Tibetan monks. She was also infatuated with dingoes and whether or not they actually ate the baby. 2. I WAS CALLED IN TO SPEAK WITH MY DAUGHTER'S TEACHER WHO HAD SERIOUS CONCERNS OVER MY DAUGHTER'S FUTURE CAREER CHOICE. My daughter announced she wanted to be a Fortune Teller when she grew up. This was a grave concern and required the immediate attention of myself, her teacher at the parochial school she attended, as well as the prinicpal of the school, because only God can know the future of one's life and we ought not to fall into Satan's trap by buying into witchcraft and false prophecy. When I turned and asked my daughter why she wanted to be a Fortune Teller she explained that she wanted to wear long flowing

There is no Newsflash if I've already flashed you the news.

Being that yesterday I did all the laundry and folded it downstairs, in the basement, away from the children, and that I spent the last part of my evening glued to the television set watching the Downton Abbey, not blinking, and therefore became too lazy to go back down to the basement and bring up any of my clothes I might need to wear, and also because I began to read a book called  The History of Love   by Nicole Krauss - which immediately lives up to its description as 'hauntingly beautiful' and made me stay up too late so then I was tired this morning and woke up late and therefore did not have the time to run downstairs to get any clean clothes, I was forced to wear the absolute last pair of clean underwear I had in my drawer; that being a mauve colored pair I wore when I was pregnant. And these suckers are HUGE. But surprisingly comfortable. And also, my sternum now has an extra layer of cotton protection which will probably cut down on my chances of contracting a chest

We went and saw Shakespeare and no one got rabies.

Please ignore my double chin. It normally isn't that pronounced.  On our drive to the theater  to watch a performance of Shakespeare's The Comedy of Errors, Big V asked, "So, is this a rotation of different comics? Or skits? Or just one guy doing stand-up?" And I knew I had to tweet that right away. Because this guy had no clue what we were about to go see. And that made me laugh. Hard. Do you know who Shakespeare is? Yeah, the guy that did Romeo and Juliet. Right. And, do you remember how he talks? You mean all those thee's and thou's and come hither's? Exactly! [silence] Wait. Is this play going to be like that? Thee and thou and come hither? Yep. [silence] I hope I don't fall asleep. I only got 4 hours of sleep last night. Look, if you stay awake for the entire first act I'll buy you a drink at intermission. "Where's Shakespeare for Dummies in this thing?" Once we found our seats I sugg

And THAT is why I love him.

Last night, Big V played basketball while wearing two completely different shoes. And when I say different, I mean one was an athletic high top and the other was a black reffing shoe similar to those tacky styled orthopedic shoes. Seriously, we can send men to the moon but no one on the face of the planet can successfully bring together style and function for diabetics?  If you've ever wondered why I love Big V I'll tell you exactly why: because he actually called me to tell me he was wearing two different shoes . Any normal guy would have faked a sprained ankle and hobbled out of the gym, but not Big V. No, sir-ee. When he unzipped that duffle bag and stared into the humiliation that greeted him he threw his head back laughing and started lacing up. And then, instead of swearing all the other players to secrecy in a vain attempt to pretend this never happened, he picked up his cell and dialed my number. You are so going to wish you had come to watch this game! Uh, proba

Stay Tuned for the Real Comedy of Errors....

Tomorrow, Big V and I are going to the thee-ah-tah . He's awesome at supporting my interests (theater being a pretty big one) and doesn't mind going .... but he may be in over his head this time. When the season dates came out and I was busy circling every event I wanted to attend, Big V was busy making himself a sandwich. He uh-huh'd and mm-hmm'd and oh yeah'd and then I asked what he would like to go to. And he scanned the page and saw the words Comedy of Errors. Except I think he skipped over the 'of errors' part and just saw comedy. You know that's Shakespeare, right? "What's Shakespeare?" Oh, boy, is he in for a treat. Feel free to come with!  We can giggle at Big V together over cocktails during intermission....

Obligatory Valentine's Day Post Complete with Hairy Lips and Crazy Socks

Thanks to my new obsession, Pinterest , I scored an idea and was able to create these lovely Valentine's  for Dotter's class. The minute I showed her the Pinterest version she was like yes! I must do this!! We taped various styles of mustaches on the back so every kid in class will be lucky to sport a furry lip if they so choose. I think they turned out awesome. (Unfortunately she suffers from the same disorder I happen to have, which makes taking an I am Awake and Seemingly Normal  photo nearly impossible.) In other news, yesterday was Crazy Sock day at Dotter's school: This is what I love. Right here. Zany, crazy, unique, express yourself the way you want to kind of kids. Somewhere between this and adulthood so many people lose that. Sure, there are adults who claim they never lost it, but the truth is, they're just slapping away getting older by acting like idiotic morons. Remember, there is a huge difference between keeping your childlike spirit alive and acti

We All Do Better When We Work Together

The last company I worked for were completely those Rah! Rah! Go Team! kind of companies. There were employee appreciation lunches, contests designed to spice up the workplace with fun and a lot of thank you for your hard work heartfelt thanks from the Higher Ups. The genuine feeling was  our employees come first; if we treat them right, they'll work hard, pump out tons of awesome work and our company will flourish . If they kept our morale up, we wouldn't notice they were driving Escalades while we were rocking the hand-me-down Cutlass Supremes from our parents. Not so much where I work now. There's a lot of backstabbing and finger pointing and blame and disrespect and an overall climate of  who's getting shoved in front of the bus next. The only thing we do as a team is watch each other with an air of distrust and suspicion. I've never heard a thank you from a Higher Up, other than a sarcastic one, or the goaded version:  of course you're appreciated but

10 Things I'm Going To Do When I Grow Up And Get My Own Apartment

1. Enjoy crunchy, non-stale crackers because all food packages will be properly sealed according to the Pantry Re-entry System. 2. Buy new underwear since I no longer have to pay additional $150 surprise teen fees on my cell phone bill. 3. Block the Disney channel using the parental control system on my brand new television set. (My brand new television set that has all its buttons and does not have a permanent marker doodle in the left hand corner of the screen.) And I'm also blocking Nickelodeon. 4. Never, ever, ever put my hand in a crusty, grungy sock to turn it right-side-out in order to effectively wash the sucker. People who leave their balled up socks in my living room will not be allowed over to play. 5. Enjoy meals that include dishes like mashed potatoes with goat cheese and kale, or tandoori chicken or spicy black bean soup in the absence of whining. 6. Go to the bathroom. by. myself. 7. Read in silence. And actually recall what it was that I just read. 8.

The One In Which I Realize The Very Real Possibility I May Be Completely Outwitted.

On December 1st, 2011, I retrieved a jar of treasured spaghetti sauce from my pantry and handed it to Big V with explicit instructions to put the remaining sauce in the refrigerator so it was not wasted. I then exited the residence confident in his compliance. However, he did not put the jar in the fridge. The freaking jar sat on my kitchen counter  for days.... weeks, even... because we are both incredibly bull headed and stubborn, if not also incredibly cute. On December 24th, 2011, as we prepared dinner for my parents, I noticed Big V had finally thrown the stupid, nasty, moldy jar of sauce away. And I had won. Or so I thought . Readers, I present to you January 28th, 2012: It should be noted that in order to place the jar next to the bird seed in the garage one must walk past not one, not two, but three large garbage cans and two recycling bins. When confronted with my discovery, Big V calmly pointed out that he never said he had actually thrown the jar away, that