Some girls are quiet, and some won't shut up

It's been a long week of Not Blogging. I do not know where the time went.

That's me, pondering the passage of time. And, no, I did not cut my hair off, it's just up in a messy bun thingy. Some powder would go a little way towards minimizing my nose, I think.

I went bra shopping today with someone I do not know well. She is a dignified and understated lady from church, who is quiet and unassuming. She's just about as sweet as she can be.
I looked like a televangelist's wife from somewhere deep in Texas, what with my hot-roller hair and blue eye shadow. There could not have been two women more radically opposite in personality and demeanor. We really should have taken a selfie.

Whenever I spend time with people I don't know well, I sort of observe myself through their eyes. I imagine I do, anyway. It's alarming.
Do you do that?
Do you see yourself anew when someone else is getting to know you for the first time?
I found myself to be flamboyant, intense and really talkative, plus, borderline inappropriate. You may have noticed these things.

 

 

 

See?

Not to mention that I'm too fond of the webcam on my blog. It's the age of the selfie! I am not the age for selfies, true. I just had to take, like, 13 different shots in an attempt to smooth out the chicken skin on my neck and minimize the lines around my eyes. And my mouth. Webcams are not kind to mature women. Of which I am one. Notice the maturity?

 

Yes.

Moving on.

 

So, this delightful woman from church....her name is Carol. (Hi Carol!) The name Carol just always makes me think of music at Christmas time, and what could be better? She and I went shopping at Victoria's Secret because I had two sets of coupons.

That, and what better way to get to know a nice lady from church than to discuss lacy unmentionables?

I found it vastly amusing that after emerging from the fitting rooms, she and I had chosen identical sets. We each had the same undies, in the same color! This just goes to show that no matter how different our personalities are, we're really not that different underneath.

 

I so admire people like Carol. She doesn't draw attention to herself. She doesn't stick her feet in her mouth. She listens well. She seems so comfortable and settled. I have always wondered at people who can abide so beautifully still.

 

When I grow up, I am going to be still and stoic and controlled and also thin, on account of the self control. I'm going to be effective in a gentle way, and speak with a soft voice.

 

In my dreams.

And yet, God seems to have ordered things so that this planet is peopled by a wide array of personalities. Aren't people fascinating? For some reason, there must be a purpose to be served by vivacious, distractible narcissists, who say every single thing that crosses their minds. I'm not sure just what that purpose might be, but I have a great deal of confidence in our Creator.



Totally random

Any creativity I might have used to paint fancy words on this page are all buried under a good helping of exhaustion. I felt it was necessary to workout a bit today, and that turns out to have been an unfortunate use of my energy resources. I'm apparently not nearly as close to fully recovered as I thought.

Of course, the wild night of partying until the late hour of 10 pm may account for some of the drowsiness I feel. My girlfriends came over last night because Patti was in town visiting. Patti has been our friend since the late 90's, and we miss her desperately since her husband moved her across the nation. There was wine consumed, and not a little bit of dessert. Due to Lent, of course, I abstained from the alcohol, but availed myself admirably of the cookies.

 

 

Nice, how Patti has a statue growing out of the top of her head.

 

Besides a convoluted and slightly nonsensical conversational involving the Cliff notes of our respective lives, we did Snapchat. We Snapchatted? We participated in the chatting of snap. We were not unlike a room full of tipsy teenagers staring at their phones and making ridiculous videos of ourselves. This was vastly amusing, if confusing, to the less technologically savvy among us.

 

The hilarity of last night's social engagement gave way to a more somber morning. Don was scheduled to appear in court this morning for a Probation Review Hearing, which he was most eagerly anticipating. After four years of the Juvenile Justice System, he was expecting to be set free of any further obligations. However, the judge has asked him to hang in there for one more month to finish  the program. Don was terribly disappointed.

 

At my advanced age, four weeks doesn't seem like any time at all; for a young guy it feels like forever. One more month, and he can be entirely free!

My tall, handsome son is taking a blissfully deep drag on that cigarette. I'm so proud. And short.

 

Who posts pictures of their children smoking? I post photos of my friends drinking, so I guess it's par for the course. I'm sometimes a bit too transparent for a dignified Christian homeschool mom.

Which reminds me!

That show I started binge watching during my recent illness? Mozart in the Jungle? Don't watch it unless you are super comfortable with cable TV morality. I just feel compelled to add that caveat. The first season had your run-of-the-mill sex, drugs and classical music. I just got to the second season, though, and found that I wish I hadn't recommended it quite so loudly.

 

I do think that Dignified Christian Homeschool moms should be transparent, though. I think it's important to be honest about our foibles and sins, about the reality of our imperfect lives.

So many people, Christians especially, put forward a false persona that looks convincingly flawless. It isn't helpful because all the regular messed up people look on thinking that something is wrong with themselves.

We're all dealing with stuff.

Some of us have kids who smoke, or kids who go off to live terribly awry of our values. Some of us drink or watch cable TV. Some of us have messy houses or 40 extra pounds. We need to talk about the reality of our lives so that other people will be able to talk about theirs, too. For people who love Jesus, our shortcomings are a big part of what we hold in common.

 

 

 



In which I wax poetic on the subject of friendship

I had the privilage to visit with an old friend last night, over tea. Tea is becoming my evening drink of choice now that wine is not so much an option for me. Tea lacks some of the soothing qualities of wine, but one must make due with what one has.

By "old friend," I mean that she is knocking at the door of 50, and also that I've known her for quite a number of years. I begged her to tell me of her ailments, so as to comfort me in my affliction. The best she could do was to note a twinge in her hip. Really? How does one get to be 49 years old with nothing more than a need to stretch?

I've found a change among my friendships, since I got married two years ago. Tim is really intent upon being my very closest confidant, and he is satisfied to have me as his best, and only, friend. Because of this, my friendships with the Girls have become irregular. Although I am full-to-bursting with my marriage, I would like to maintain my girl friendships. It's not a simple matter. Besides my romance, I also have the relationships with four children who draw on my energy reserves. By the end of the day, I am often so done with people in general that the thought of having to have another conversation can make me withdraw into a funk. Who ever met an extrovert who was overstimulated by too many people?

Of my friendships, I find that the easiest ones are those I never talk to. Which you'd think would defeat the purpose. Those ladies who are in happy marriages, with bustling households, are the low-maintenance kinds of friends with whom I talk every month or two. Of those in this category, I trust that the years of investment will carry us through this particular phase in life, and they opperate with a similar notion. Friendship is no longer group activity on the weekends, with giggling gossip. It's more a matter of meaningful touchstones to strengthen one another for the demands of life. It's quite beautiful.

I've never been one to look at friendships as a passing fancy. No, I see them a bit more as a marriage of sorts. Take Cathy, for example. I've known her since 1989. She matters to me, really matters. We only catch up a couple times a year, yet it's always as if no time has passed. She knows me, and I know her. I think it's because our core values are really the same, and we've invested enough to have that credibility to speak truth into one another. Love that.

Friendships ebb and flow through the years, though, and that can be a real challenge. It's worth fighting for, I think. Even when core values are confused, or circumstances change, I think that friendships are worth the effort. It's a marathon, rather than a sprint, so the eternal perspective is essential.
...And that's a race I can still run.

Dead on a Wednesday

My BFFs went to a graveyard tonight, without me.

Which reminds me of something funny my Mother said.

Mother is an effervescent communicator. She is always so enthusiastic about a subject change. Mother lit up and leaned in, and said, "Do you know who is buried in the Saratoga Cemetery?" When Mother has a tid-bit like that, she looks all amazed, with big eyes.

Faline and I looked at each other, and said "no."

"Jack Brown!" She authoritTIVELY ANNOUNCED. ( I was gonna erase the 'caps lock' there, but it actually seemed accurate.)

Faline and I glanced between ourselves with a hint of bewilderment, and came up empty.

Mother sought to enlighten us, "He was a black man from the Civil War.... Actually, he wasn't buried there, it was his wife and children."

I have no idea how she knows that, nor why she sought to educated us with this random bit of knowledge.

Neither have I any particular idea why my friends are in the graveyard tonight. Although, I am glad they are not dead. I actually thought they might die, all at once, which I would find very inconsiderate.

My BFFs are all off to the East Coast on a Girl's Only trip. I love these women from the depths of my being; it's a sisterhood. Yet, I decided to stay behind with my husband. He and I are determined not to spend a night apart, except under the most horrific circumstances. It's a hard thing to be away from my friends, and a part of me is dying not to be there.

But I wouldn't change my decision, even if I could. I'm with Tim.

I still feel like a chunk of my heart is off with the girls.....You know, in the cemetery, dying, and entirely deprived of wine.

Boise State

Boise is a small town, that thinks it's cosmopolitan. Not unlike a lapdog with a guard dog self image.

In Boise, we take football very seriously. You may have seen the recent hoopla all over ESPN and Sports Illustrated. We love our college team. It's something of an obsession, truth-be-told. Everyone puts flags on their cars on game day, like they did with red/white/blue after 9/11. It's a show of support that makes the entire town seem like family. I painted my toenails blue.

Monday evening was the big game between BSU and Virginia Tech.
The best part of the game, was watching Kara.
At our house, we had a party. The men all sat on the back patio with the TV and the cigars.
We women sat upstairs and watched Kara scream at the TV. She has two phrases to yell. If the team did something poorly, she would say, "that's ok," (clap, clap), "that's ok."
If they did something good, she would shout, "That's what I'm talkin about!"
If they did something really great, she would stand up and scream, "That's what I'm FRICKIN talkin' about!!!"
She was fascinating.
By the thrid quarter, we were begging her to find a new phrase. Something. Anything. We were making helpful suggestions, being inventive. She just couldn't manage creativity when the moment was right. It was like some instinctive muscle memory, or something. She just kept screaming that same phrase over and over again.
But it worked, I guess. Our team won.

Boise is crazy about BSU football. Especially Kara. But you know that now, because...that's what I'm talkin about.

The first day of Spring

I spent the morning and a good part of the afternoon with Jenine. She came over to do my hair for me, as she does about once a year. I am fairly goofy about my hair. I am paranoid that some wicked stylist will cut off several inches, so I seldom darken the door of a salon. Stylists do that, you know. They hate to see simple long hair. Something within them makes them want to cut off all that length. Jenine has never removed more than the merest whisp of the tip of my hair. Love her. Now, here's the thing. I hate to inconvienence her. So, I only call her when I've done a really bad thing with the color of my hair. Take this time, for instance. I recently tried to highlight my hair at home (I refuse to pay an evil stylist a gazillion dollars to do it.) My hair ended up resembling leopard print. Seriously splotchy. (Is that dark with yellow spots, or yellow with brown spots?)
Every time I call Jenine over to repair my color and give me a trim, she says the same things. Such as, "why do you always do this?" Or, "Just call me next time." I always say the same things about how I'm trying to save money and I hate to bug her. We pretty much don't need to talk.
She labored over me for about 4 hours. Like giving birth. Bless her patient, ever-loving heart. Someone remind me to call her before it comes to that again. I'm fairly certain she wouldn't volunteer to birth any of her 8 children more that once. What gives me the right to cause her that much labor?
My hair looks cool. It's all light and Spring-y. Very unlike the look I had going before her loving care.

I totally forgot to tell you about the Alice in Wonderland movie, didn't I? It was good. Not great, maybe, but few movies are these days. I read the book to my kids a few years ago, and that book is always better. The movie seemed pretty true to the heart of the story, if not to the actual plot. The Queen of Hearts was fantastic, the good queen was so totally not. The Mad Hatter was good, I thought, though I kept seeing Jack Sparrow. I liked Alice, and I want her hairstyle. (That's what I'm aiming for, Jenine. K?)

We're currently sitting on the patio, pretending it's warmer than it is. Tim is watching the basketball nonsense that dominates Men in the month of March. I am obviously blogging. What are you doing?

Halloween

I am a little tardy in posting this, but it's Patsy's fault. She took the great photos and did her magic with them. Then, I had to steal them from her site!


I am too lazy to link. Go to her link in the sidebar for more of her pictures....

For Pete's sake

Clearly, I have undergone a significant life change. It's affecting my ability to blog. That, however, is about the only complaint I have. Otherwise, all is going swimingly.
This past weekend was The Party of the Year. We had our reception, complete with out-of-town family, long lost friends, and catering. I had convinced Tim to leave the pool uncovered for this occation. It's so pretty when it's uncovered. Every teenager at the party, (and there were not a few), ended up in the swimming pool, fully- clothed. Now that I think about it, that was better than it could have been. They could have stripped for the occasion, and that would have been worse. Personally, I found screaming wet teenagers to be quite festive, if somewhat unexpected and damp.
My wedding dress got ruined at the party, which was less upsetting than it sounds. I was sitting on a piece of patio furniture, whose back legs were unfortunately settling into soft soil. The decent was abrupt, and it precipitated my baptism in a very drinkable red wine. Alas. I liked that dress.
There were people at that party from all over the span of my life and Tim's. There were people I haven't seen in years. One really should host a party like this from time to time. It's like a "This is Your Life" TV show. Remember that? You don;t really need to wait until next time you get married, though. Have a party now. I have about 3 cases of wine left over. And rather too much of the catering. You people didn't eat nearly enough.

Moulon Rouge Deux

Jessie is the ultimate party thrower. She hosted, catered, and otherwise ensured that I had the very most amazing bridal shower that ever there was.

Here's a few of my very oldest friends in the world. We were enjoying the photography rather a lot. Except for Heidi, who looks surprised, or fearful, or something.

There are my sisters: Amanda, Danielle, and Bentley.

And this is me with my mom, and Kara with her mom. The mother/ daughter mix always adds to the fun. Especially when the conversation would turn risque, and Kara would not make eye contact with her mom. That was fun. Of course, my Mother is the one who taught me to be risque....she may have taught Kara, too, come to think of it.

Moulon Rouge, Part I

Despite the fact that I have no pictures, yet, I do have the best friends in the world. Evidence of that was grandly displayed at the Beautiful, and slightly scandelous, bridal shower on Friday night.
There were those feather boa thingys, and champagne, and food, and rather a lot of ladies. I am rich in my variety of friends. There were sisters and mothers, homeschool moms and lacrosse moms, dedicated Christians, and even my two favorite lesbians.
Jessie opened our time with a prayer of thanksgiving and dedication to the God of Creation.
These women, whether they love the Lord, or not, had the opportunity to hear that God is Faithful, and that He is the Giver of Good Gifts. The entire evening was a celebration of romance. God's best is worth waiting for.
This time in my life is so joyful. People seem drawn to that. It's been a chance to tell, over and over again, of all that God has done.
You're still thinking about the fact that I said "lesbian," aren't you? I don't know why those girls put up with me, but they are very respectful and gracious to my bible believing, right-wing ways. I love them, and I pray that they see something of Jesus in me. Plus, they are sweethearts, and I quite like them.
But, as I was telling you, I have great friends.
There was this room full of people. Some I'd known for 2 years, some for 35, most somewhere in between. I felt so surrounded by love in that room. Nevermind that my mother flunked the test called "How Well Do You Know Kelly?" She did. She flunked. Mother, remember all those times I shouted "You just don;t understand me!"? Well, turns out I was right.
Who won that, anyway? I can't remember who won. It was one of those bridal shoower games. There was one where they quized me about Tim, to see how well I know him. I got a 50%, so don't be judging Mother too harshly. I plan to study the half I don't know after the wedding.
Speaking of the Wedding!!!! Did I tell you how our scandal rocked the church? Celebate Christian Couple Denied Church Wedding.... Well, now we're back to being married there by our favorite pastorish person!
So, that's good news.
Have you ever seen so many links in one blog?
.....Now I'm totally off track and distracted from reading all my old blogs while trying to link for this one. I'm giving up. I'll be back tomorrow to tell you all about the stuff I acquired at the stimulating party on Friday night.

Livin the dream

I didn't think it was remarkable, that a mom would be accessorized while cooking breakfast. We grew up with June Cleaver, after all. Michael has two buddies over this morning, and they commented at some length regarding my dress, and jewelry, and the Orange Juice in a wine glass. Life is just too short to be tacky, in my opinion. Besides, have you ever worn a maxi-dress? It's better than throwing on a pair of sweats. It as comfortable as being naked, if you want the truth. Now you know why they are so popular.

It's Friday, which brings me joy. This weekend should be a blast. Besides the usual freaking out over all that needs to be done, we are going to a concert. A rock concert. Journey and Heart are playing together. I think that everyone probably knows Journey songs, right? I just can't think of any right now.

.........Just right this very moment I hung up on a telemarketer. Do you hang up on those people? I don't think it counts as rude to slam the phone down when someone is calling to interrupt my life to give them money. Do you think it's rude?

I had the loveliest conversation this morning with Jenine. She is a vibrant, joyful mom of 8. The whole Jon and Kate people have nothing on Jenine. You TV people should do a Mike and Jenine Plus 8 show. She's so cool. This lady just gave birth to AnnaLee Grace, and their eldest is off to college in a few weeks. Jenine home schools, and cooks every meal from scratch. Also? She's terrifically sexy, and I'm not even gay. She's beautiful and intelligent, and a fantastic dancer. I might have to hate her. Maybe if I spend some time with her, she'll rub off on me.

At least I'm accessorized.

...in a single bound

I'm so glad I'm a faithful blogger.

Last weekend was a blast, because Cathy and Asia were in town. I took no pictures at all, despite the fact that I bought new batteries for my camera. Sorry about that. Asia mostly fired deeply personal and incisive questions at my patient husband-to-be with the worthy goal of ascertaining his suitability to marry me. Consequently, they are now fast friends. They discussed much of this riveting information on the tennis court, where they were very happy to hit a ball about between topics. Unfortunately, Tim's knee was less than thrilled with the strenuous excersise, and is now swollen up as big as Texas. Cathy and I shopped, as any friends would.

My entire freaking existance has taken on a life of it's own, and I am sort of swept along in the tide. Among the significant, and life changing, transformations underway, is the new and alarming possibility of my child attending a real High School. Michael has decided that he wants to attend some Ivy League College, and Lacrosse is largely to blame. However, he is also appreciating the need for academic excellence, and is interested in a new School as a means of accomplishing this. This school, if he's accepted, would be really hard, academically agressive, and completely over his head. I think it's a fantastic idea. I am meeting with the officials to apply on Friday. Also, I am freaking out. Normal people cry when their baby leaves for kindergarden. Not me. My kid will leave at the age of 14 instead of 5.

In the bride department, I can not find a dress. It's very annoying. All dresses on the planet have an empire waist, which makes me look pregnant. All white dresses on the planet cost upwards of a million dollars.

I have to eliminate and pack, and I don't have any time to do so. I guess I am getting some things done, little by little. But, there's a heck of a lot that needs to be dealt with. My house is just so full of junk!

The reception planning is also on the table. Once we get bunches of RSVPs back, we'll have to start thinking about food and wine. And cake. And flowers. And renting tables. And the fact that all these people are going to be in my new house....which is all freaking me out.

Mostly freaking out is kind of the theme.


So, let's summerize. I am getting married, doubling the amount of children I have, moving, enrolling my eldest in school, signing the boys up for football, planning a reception/honeymoon/wedding, working, paying bills, being a single mom, and trying to find a pretty white dress. All of this while freaking out.

But enough about me. How have you been?

Men. Ya gotta love 'em.

I had the opportunity to tell my beloved man about the conversation I had with Heidi the other day.
The one where she suggested that she and I get together after my honeymoon, so I can tell her all about it.
Do you know what the man I love said about that?
I'll see if you can guess:

a. "You'd better not talk to your girlfriends about what we do in private!"

b. "Get me a beer, babe. The game's about to start."

c. "Just tell her we'll post it on YouTube."


Right.
That man didn't even pause a beat, before he replied with the third option, there. Who thought he was a pretty funny guy?

In addition to my lunch with Tim

I'm planning a romantic weekend getaway with Kara. What could be better?
She is coming with me to the illustrious resort town of Park City, Utah, for the lacrosse tournament this month. We have been condo shopping together. I imagine quiet evenings by the pool, or the fire. I'm not picky. The boys are imagining running amok with all the other young lacrosse players who will dominate the otherwise pristine landscape. It's going to be rather different in actuality, than in my sanguine imaginings.
Alas.
I do think that some aspects of my whimsical imaginings are possible. Such as drinking wine, eating good food, and possibly the pool/fireplace. Those dreams can come true.

I spoke on the phone with my good friend, Heidi, today. She is anticipating my upcoming nuptials almost as much as I am. Her thoughts are running to lingerie parties, and after-honeymoon debriefings. Which is an hilarious play on words, come to think of it. The lingerie parties sound appropriate, if somewhat risque.
The debriefing, I expect, will be less of a public spectacle, and will certainly not take place anywhere near my dear girlfriends.
I'm just sayin.'
I was thinking of the amusing conglomeration of people who might merit an invitation to such a bawdy event. The party, not the debriefing. Such a guest list could range from my Mother and Yvonne (who would affect some posture of tolerant shock), to my Christian friends (who would gently amuse themselves with double entendre), to my less restricted friends (also mostly Christian, come to think of it) (who would cause Queen Latifa to blush a deep and becoming pink with their advice.)

Patsy came by for a visit this afternoon. Don't you wonder where I find the time for such a robust social life? It's no wonder I can't get to my yard work. Anyway, she had the brilliant idea of cleaning my house twice a month until I'm married, just so I'm free to focus on the other things I need to tend to. She is out of her ever-loving-mind; I declined. I did manage to talk her into cooking me dinner next Monday, which I figured would be equally delightful. She cleaned my kitchen while we talked. Love her.

Oh, look at the time. I need to go consult my social calendar to see how I might avoid responsibility today. Blogging is a good start, though.

Tim and more pictures. And also Tim.

I have a lot on my mind. There's that home-again-laundry, of course. There's yard work. There's way a lot of lacrosse. I'm in love, though, and I'm thinking about that a lot. You know how Spring is supposed to make you all twitterpatted?. It's working.
I actually went to Eagle Island this afternoon with Kara, and later sat on the patio at our favorite restaurant. That was glorious. I love Summertime with Kara. We got a bit sunkissed, she and I. She's burned because she didn't put on the sunscreen. That's gonna hurt.

But, my lunch date was very much on my mind. Tim took me to lunch today at a lovely Deli, where we sat in the sunshine, and I admired his jawline and his biceps. He is so hot.
I think I need therapy because I'm so in love. Really. He'll be talking about golf or policics, and my mind is scrolling though all these months I've known him, and how imporobable it is that he actually likes me, and how dreamy his lips are. And I smile like an idiot, and thank God in a silent prayer.
I heard what he said about politics. Really.

I wrote a list, years ago, about those things I required in a man. It's a long time I've been unmarried, and I gave some thought to the matter.
There was once, in particular, when I thougt I ought to loosen my standard a bit. I was tempted to give up being so strict and so....well, you know. I totally thought I would never find the sort of man I wanted.
This one's better. Oh, he's wwaaayyy better.

I'm so annoying, aren't I?
Fine. We'll view my photos, then, shall we?


Here is Mother (in the celery colored shirt) with her sister, in the middle (Auntie Lynda) and their cousin, Charlotte. Mother looks like she has beady eyes in this photo, which is not the case. She really has lovely brown eyes. And look at that hair! She is an old lady and you can't even tell. I hope I have her genes.


Ok, this is my neice, Maddie (in the center), and Jenine's kids (Sarah and Rachel) They would be second cousins, or something.


This is my sister, Dani, and her daughter, Mika. Beautiful, no? Dani is also Maddie's mom. Dani is due in September with 3#, and we need to pray her a boy. Otherwise she'll think the entire world is made of "sugar and spice and everything nice," and she will be skinny, and we'll have to hate her. That would be such a waste.


Owen, of the sign language,and the straw confusion. Tell me this child is not cute! His momma was the first person in the world to know that I was pregnant for Michael, since she was sleeping on the couch at my grandmother's house when I did the test....but that was 15 years ago. Jessie is due with her second in June. Owen's momma is Jessi, who is Jenn and Johanna's eldest sister. Are you taking notes?


May I introduce another child de familia? This is ZaaZaa, formally named Isaiah. He is a love. Also, we should jointly pray him a sibling! He is the son of faithful reader, cousin Jenn. You may all thank her for the recent addition of photos to this blog, as she gave me a camera. "Hi Jenn!"

What?
I can bring any conversation back to Tim.
It's a gift, I tell ya.


Is it my fault that I am so loved?
I need some new pictures of Tim, huh?

A Quiz, I wrote it myself

Here is an opportunity to test your skills:

When a woman wears her ugly sweats, and doesn't bother with make-up, she is
A. worrying about her NCAA picks
B. tending towards homicide
C. PMSing
D. B and C

When a woman weeps for an hour over an imagined slight, she is
A. concerned about the Packers potential draft picks
B. PMSing
C. out of sushi
D. B and C

When a woman huddles into the darkness of her closet to rock in the fetal position while sucking her thumb, she is
A. concentrating on which power tool to buy with her tax return
B. PMSing
C. bloated right out of every pair of jeans she owns
D. B and C

When a woman thinks about seizing the family pet and stuffing him in the trunk of her car to secretly dispose of in a remote location, she is
A. interested in switching cable companies
B. PMSing
C. Kara
D. B and C

When a woman throws the children's Math book across the kitchen while loudly proclaiming an end to her homeschooling career and threatening to call her best friend to help her dispose of incriminating evidence involving empty cartons of chocolate ice cream and Pink Floyd cassette tapes, she is
A. unhappy with her 401k performance
B. PMSing
C. thinking of running away.
D. B and C

When a woman, who is loved magnificently by the most sensitive, tender-hearted, thoughtful man on earth begins to entertain the suspicion that he doesn't really love her at all, and he is probably thinking that she is fat and ugly RIGHT THIS MINUTE, and he is never ever really going to ride in on his white horse to carry her away to happily ever after, she is,
A. just like every other ungrateful wench
B. PMSing
C. currently pointing a loaded gun at the guy who picked 'A'
D. B and C


If you answered "A" to any of the above questions, then you are very likely male. This is a terminal diagnosis, and there is no treatment currently available.

If you answered "D" on every one, then, girlfriend, meet me for some sushi. And also chocolate. You are buying.

In which I discuss food, friends, and, surprisingly, Tim

If you are what you eat, then I am dead fish and seaweed, because this has been the week of the formerly-wet menu.
I have eaten sushi twice and trout once, and I am eagerly anticipating another lunch date, for yet more sushi. Because, for a poverty stricken single mom in a depressed economy, I sure eat out a lot.

I am also still neither sick, nor well. I am sort of scratchy in my voice, and taking large quantities of Vitamin AirBorne. But it's still no more than a threat. I refuse to admit that I have any sort of a cold. Tim's got a heck of a cold, though, poor guy. No man should be that good-looking when he feels so rotten. He walked in oozing attitude this evening.
I said, "Gosh how do you feel?"
"Terrible. Thanks for asking." He's always polite, even when grumpy.
"Are you 'terrible' because of something specific? Or just 'terrible' on principle?" I thoughtfully asked him.
"Principle."
"Well, then, at least you can admit it." I commented.
But, though he always seems to be a man who sticks to his principles, he certainly didn't stick to the 'terrible' very well. He was laughing and making macabre jokes about his own death. He can be quite amusing, what with the dry sense of humor, and the virus.

Today I saw my friend Jessie and her baby girl.

Jessie is one of those from the Old Group. The Old Group is a cult of sisterhood that evolved from a rather innocent beginning. A bible study, truth be told.
Years ago, when dinosaurs walked the earth, and I was married, I met on a weekly basis with a group of women. We would study our bibles, and discuss our lives, and mostly confide the darker sides of ourselves. We made casseroles when one among us had a baby....which was frequently. We cleaned one another's homes, helped each other move, and fumbled through some really devastating times. We laughed a lot. Cried quite a bit, too. We ate frequently, hid the children during a tornado, and partied on the Island. Ah, good times. We did all this, and more, for 10 years. Every. Single. Week. Well, not the tornado, that only happened once.

The result is, as I irreverently called it, a Cult of Sisterhood to rival the Ya-Yas. (If you aren't familiar with the Ya-Yas, then you need to get the movie right this instant. It's The Divine Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood, and it was written about us. Only we have more bible, and less hard liquor. Well, more bible, anyway.)
So, as I was saying, I saw Jessie today. And while I was at her house, Heidi called from Virginia. Heidi is in the cult, too.
(Are you girls going to be mad at me for calling it a 'cult'? Remember the time we really were called that by the pastor's wife at my church? Oh, that was almost very funny! Perhaps I shall save that indelicate story for another day.)
I am now so far from the original idea of the story, that I have no idea where I was really going with it. Except, I like Jessie a lot. Heidi's great, too. So are the rest of ya'all. Group hug! I raise my NyQuil to salute you, my friends.

Sushi on speed-dial, and ER

We women are a complex breed. We nave needs that defy logic, financial ability, and even, occasionally, ourselves. This is no news flash.
Women need chocolate.
Red wine.
Romance.
Sushi.
A really nice handbag.
If you are not getting these things, and you are female, then You Are Grumpy. Everyone else knows it, I am just tellin' ya.

You need different things, if you are male. Dr. Laura says you need food, fornication, and football. Or something along those lines. Actually, I believe she says something more like "food, sex, and a hobby" but I like my way better. It's possible that you are grumpy, too.

The good news, around here, is that I choose what is best for my family. I have sushi on speed dial.
The unfortunate side to this is that my children also have a taste for the finer things in life, and they steal my sushi.
Last night, for instance.
Last night was a wonderful evening with people I care about, but it was a different evening than I had envisioned. The plan was that I'd grab sushi, meet Kara at my house. We'd enjoy wine, and food, and candlelight and music. We're very romantic, Kara and I.

As I pulled in to the sushi place, I got a frantic call from another friend who needed me to meet her daughter at the emergency room. Which I was happy to do.
Parenthetically......I love when really close friends can call on me for crisis moments in their lives. In order to have that kind of relationship, one must invest years. You basically earn the right to have that kind of drop-everything kind of love. This particular friend has earned the right...in spades.

So, I called Kara, who met me at the emergency room (dropped everything, though I rather expect it was for the sushi). She took the children (all three of them), and she also took the sushi. She came back to my messy house with the music and wine and children. Love her. I went to the emergency room.

The point of my story changed, didn't it? That's because I began it last night before I left the house, and I'm finishing this morning. I could go round and round about the doctors, the bad TV in the hospital, and the fact that my children ate my food whilst I was away. They didn't eat all of it, but they were tempted to. Aren't children supposed to loath raw Japanese fish? There was some left when I got home, so I managed my fix after all.

Anyway, I'm not really going to try any harder to blend my trains of thought, because it just isn't working.

The ER turned out ok. I think she's going to grow up quite happily, and go on to great things.

Val Said

I may not always log into facebook, but I see every single comment that people leave for me there. Yes, I do. They are delivered to my inbox with that immortalized drone, "You've got mail!"
Val, whom I used to clown with ever so long ago, (have I told you that story?), says to write more and add pictures. Then perhaps I can be just like Pioneer Woman.
So, I looked at the photos available in my computer. And there are not really any that are riveting.

That first one up there is an old one, so you can see how I've aged. Nice lipstick, eh?
See the boys? They were children there. Small enough to spank. Not that I would ever use such a primitive.....oh, wait.....you already know me better than that. I should probably beat them now, come to think of it. One is currently drowning out my lovely music by blaring his amplifier and bass guitar in the other room. The other is pouting over the fact that I won't allow him any more time on his PSP.




Here I am looking flamboyant and very Christian, indeed. Like a tele-evangelist's wife, what with the animal print and the wig and the wine.
Who's wine could this be? How did it ever get into my hand?

And, here's a look you don't see every day. Have you ever seen me silent enough to pass as a mime? I believe I mentioned a penchant for costumes.



Speaking of costumes...did I ever tell you about the day that Meichelle invited me over for tea? I wore a hat and gloves, and also a cape.


On that whimsical, albeit narcissistic note, I shall bid you a very good night.

Book this face

Why do I get sucked in to computer things?
I've had this facebook account for a long time. I got it because my son wanted one, and I thought I should keep an eye on him. Do I? No.
I have a number of friends who use facebook to communicate on a regular basis. But, it embodies all I dislike about shallow,small-talk. I hate shallow,small-talk.
Yet, I keep going back.
I finally put my entire real name on my profile, and now the teeming masses from my past are calling me their "friends."
They are not my friends.
I knew them in high school, or met them years ago.
I only have a few real friends. Ok, maybe a bit more than a few. I'm blessed. But I do not call every Tom, Dick, and Harry my "friend." Do people say "Tom, Dick, and Harry" anymore? Perhaps they do not.
I have a MySpace thingy, too. I can't ever figure out what to do with it, though. It's for computer savy people, and there are always ads on it that I find offensive. I don;t really use that account.
Mostly, the blog-realm works for me. I can talk if I want to, without telling you what I am doing "right now". Because, right now? I am typing. Could you not figure that out?

Well, it's Sunday morning, and I should see about pulling myself together. I have company coming this afternoon. Real friends are coming over, since Heidi is coming into town. Maybe I'll take a picture or two. Don't get your hopes up, though, I probably won't.