Sunday, January 31, 2010

I love being a girl

Just recently I was reminded of all the wonderful reasons I love being a girl. Here are just a few, feel free to add your own.

1. I don't have to kill my own spiders. ( I can when no one is looking, but I don't HAVE to)
2. I can wear all the pink I want and no one questions my sexuality.
3. Facials
4. Shoes
5. Being a Mom
6. Flowers, flowers and more flowers!
7. People carry heavy things for me

Having said all that, I was also just as recently reminded of all the things that suck a little bit about being a girl, some more than others.

1. Pushing human beings out of my girlie parts ( If we are so evolved, why isn't there a zipper and a pop up timer?)
2. Waxing anything
3. Gynecologists
4. And the biggie- getting older.

Why is it that men age so much better than women? While he is looking all cute and distinguished, I'm spending all my disposable income on hair dye and wrinkle cream. Let's not forget those attractive reading glasses perched on the end of my nose.

Yesterday I treated myself to a chemical peel and facial. Now, this is pretty wonderful, up to a point. You are in a dimly lit room, soft music is playing and someone is massaging your face. MMMMMMMMMMMMMM. Just when I think I've died and gone to Heaven, along comes the chemical peel part.

Chemical peels are not really painful, just a little stinging and itchiness. Just annoying enough to interrupt that wonderful moment of relaxation you were having.

And this morning, I'm having an allergic reaction to the peel. My upper lip looks like it has been attached by rabid mosquitoes. I guess this deformity really does make my wrinkles less noticeable.

Thursday, January 28, 2010

Stop stepping on my halo!

I must vent. Some people drive me crazy! We all know them, they are toe lickers. Whatever you say, they agree with, they will do anything to be everyone’s friend. They are usually doormats. Everyone walks all over them and then they whine about it.

For instance, one woman at work complains that she doesn’t have anyone to help her with her bills and she doesn’t know how she is going to make it. When we remind her that she lives in a two income household, she has a husband, she quickly points out that he doesn’t help her with the bills. Why? Inquiring minds want to know…..

Her answer-“He is paying off the bills he acquired while we are divorced. He spent more money on other women than he ever spent on me.”

Yes, she really said that out loud and expects all of us to feel bad that she is in this alone. Hello? Did you not divorce this man because he cheated on you, with PROSTITUTES? So while she worries about how to pay the mortgage, he is paying off his sexual debt, and living for free, life is good if you are him!

So that by itself chaps my ass. To make matters worse she is like my poodle, always jumping up and down trying to get everyone’s attention. I need to make her a sign that blinks and says “Please notice me.” She is in her 50’s and talks in a baby voice about how dumb she is, and she cannot let anyone make any kind of comment without adding a comment. Everything has to be commented on, including a conversation you are having with someone else. She is definitely not one to mind her own business. I think if I said my ass was itchy she would say “ I hate when that happens” in her little baby voice.

And one more thing. She is a one upper. Anything and everything that has happened to anyone has happened to her or someone she knows, only much, much worse.

We were talking about infertility one day, she went on and on about how the doctors told her “for years and years and years” (her words) that she would never have a baby. She had four daughters before she was 30, what years?

If your neighbor has to have a finger amputated, her neighbor had to have both legs amputated, but he is still out there, walking around the neighborhood on his knuckles.

If you got a haircut you hate she will have to tell you about the time they accidentally shaved her head, cause that’s what they thought she asked for.

If the roads are icy and you mention how slippery the drive was, she will have to tell you about sliding through a red light, but she really didn’t mean to.

And just like most children she loves everything more than anything in the whole wide world, everything is the best in the whole wide world. I wish I was a deaf mute some days. It’s hard to listen to her and even harder not to comment.

I’m sure I’m going to hell but it’s only because of people like her, otherwise I’m perfectly angelic!

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Ummm, can you bring me my iPad?

You know what makes work bearable today? Apple.

I’m sure by now everyone has heard about the new Apple tablet. I would have bought one. I love my touch screen phone, I love my netbook, put them together and it would have been wonderful. Except they called it an iPad.

I cannot imagine yelling up the stairs asking Mo if she’s seen my pad. Or, “Stop the car,I left my pad on the living room floor, I don’t want the dogs to get it.”

Apple is asking for it. Seriously? An iPad? Does this mean that not a single one of you has a women in his life? Because there is not a woman in the world who would have said, “ Oh Sweetie, iPad, it’s genius.” Any woman would have laughed so hard her beverage of choice would have come shooting out of her nose.

And to make it worse look at some of the phrases they have used in their little unveiling conference today:

Much for intimate than a laptop.- ummmmm
The iPad comes with software, including a calendar.- seriously?
We want to kick of 2010 with a truly revolutionary and magical product.- Magical is unicorns, not something that reminds me of my period.

And my own random thoughts-
Does it come with wings?
Is it breathable to prevent overheating?

And as busydadblog said on Twitter- Why the hate? iPad is a GREAT name. It implies freedom, you can probably take it horseback riding, swimming, tennis…….

Tuesday, January 26, 2010


Today I am missing my Nan. Isn't it funny how after such a long time- she's been gone for over twenty years, remembering still hurts? It's the silly little things you miss.

Today, for some reason, I was sitting at work and Tom T Hall’s song “And I love you” started running through my head. I probably haven’t heard that song since I was fifteen. And the last time I heard it I was laying in my Nan’s bed, trying to go to sleep but she was torturing me with Hee Haw. I remember thinking my grandparents were nuts, they never let us sleep in the back bedroom, we always slept with Nan and Pop slept on the floor guarding us. They thought if something bad happened, they wanted us to be right in the same room with them so my Pop slept on the floor into his 80's so that we would always be safe.

Tom T. Hall and Dione Warwick, sorry Dione, Nan didn't like you, and I didn't like Tom T. Hall. But I loved my grandparents.

When you are a child you never realize how blessed you are, and I was truly blessed. My Grandma Dudley loved us but we never saw her, I was always so jealous of my cousins who had Grandma all the time, I got to see her once a year for a week and I had to share her with Janet. We were the oldest so we always visited Grandma together.

Nan and Pop were another story completely. I saw them practically every day of my life. They were at every birthday party, holiday dinner and school event. They were always there, and I took that for granted.

They were amazing human beings and I don't know if they know how much they meant to all of us. My Pop died in his 80's fighting a fire, he was a volunteer fireman until the day he died. How's that for amazing? My Nan, well, she thought I was perfect. No matter what I did or how big a brat I was, she loved me anyway.

I still remember their phone number and it was years before I stopped dialing it to tell my Nan something, only to remember she was gone. When Mo was born I wanted more than anything to be able to put her in my Nan's arms. Nanny struggled with infertility too, she would have understood like no one else could, so when Mo was born I said a little prayer and thanked my Nan for sending her to me.

So sometimes little things make me think of them, snow cones with orange juice, old country western songs, Willie Nelson ( Pop thought he should get a haircut and shave), grape nuts candy, old Avon knick knacks, house dresses and fishing. They can make me laugh or cry, depending on the day. Today I was a little teary eyed all day because I kept singing that song.

I feel sorry for Mo because she doesn't have that bond. Her grandparents have always lived far away. Steve' mother died when Mo was 9 and my mother is on the other side of the country so she doesn't have that unconditional love. Mo is lucky in other ways, she has other people who love her. If you ask her who loves her best she always says "Aunt Arlene" but it's not the same as Nan and Pop.

I want to get that right when the time comes. I want to be the best grandma in the world ( not for another ten or so years please) For now, I have my little love Ivy. I'm not her Granny, I'm not really anything to her except her sister's mother but she knows I love her. I want to give to Ivy what I had, someone who loves her just because she exists and knows that for all her imperfections she is perfect.

Thanks Nan and Pop for giving me the best thing a child could have, your time, attention and love. I always knew you loved me best.

Monday, January 25, 2010

Should I be afraid?

Mo called me at work the other day and said Ria, Shawn and Riley are coming over, can you grab something for dinner?

Well, at least she needs me for something. I grab lettuce wraps, on the way home Mo calls me to remind me that Ria is a vegetarian, I said, make her Ramen. What am I, Burger King? Anyway, I love these kids, even though I don’t understand them.

I walk in the house and there are two boys sitting together on the couch, Riley and Shawn. Your first clue to their sexual preference is Riley’s “Well, hello gorgeous.” 16 year old boys never say that to Mom’s that aren’t their own, unless they are gay.

This is not a big deal around here. I think that 90% of Mo’s guy friends are gay, and most of her female friends are bi. We don’t care, you are who you are. Just no public displays of affection, it still gives me a stomach ache.

I’m in the house, putting the food on the table and ask Riley about my girls. He tells me they are upstairs dyeing their hair. I yell up the steps.

Down come Mo and Ria, in their t-shirts and panties. For a minute I’m speechless.

“Ummm, ladies, you are only in your underwear.” Confused Mom says.

“And?’ Mo is a great conversationalist.

“Ummm, underwear?” still confused Mom says.

“Oh, Mom, Riley and Shawn are gay, Ria’s a girl, what’s the problem?’

Ok, have some lettuce wraps and put on some pants. I’m still a little bit shocked. I’m sure I’ll be fine soon.

I remember how embarrassed my brother was growing up if he accidentally saw one of us in our underwear. And that happened a lot, he had three sisters and there was only one bathroom.

My poor brother was still embarrassed after he was a married man with a child of his own. John and Cindy came to see me and Mo when she was born, they only stayed for about two minutes because Mo was hungry and my brother did not want to have to gouge his eyes out if he got a glimpse of his sister’s boob.

Times have certainly changed. These children don't seem embarrassed by anything. When Mo was little she was the nakedest kid around. She would come in the front door after school and strip on the landing. She never wore pants unless she had to leave the house, and then she wasn't happy about it. Her dad and I just hoped she would outgrow it before puberty.

For a while she did. And we were grateful, even if she did carry it to the extreme. From about 11 until 15 any time she changed her clothes the door was locked, and blocked by furniture. If someone walked in on her she was mortified. I was glad when that wore off, I spent four years saying, we are both girls, and I've wiped that bottom of yours darling, trust me, I've seen you naked, still she locked the door.

One day she outgrew that and we are back to pantsless Mo. If she is home, she has no pants on and it pisses her off if someone comes over and she has to put on pants. I'll say " Baby my friend is on his way over." And she says " I have no pants on, can't he come over tomorrow?"

Where is the happy medium? It is not unusual for me to come home when Mo has a bunch of friends over, they are trying each others clothes on, doing each other's hair and without fail I wind up with a bunch of teenage girls in panties in the kitchen raiding the refrigerator. Guess that's one more reason to be glad I'm single.

Bottom line, I really don't need the constant reminders that my bottom isn't as perky as it once was. Brats.

Sunday, January 24, 2010

Can you feel it?

I know it is still January but everything is starting to feel new again. Isn't that the first sign of spring? The air is just a teensy bit warmer, the sky just the bitiest bluer and me, just a smidge happier.

Here comes spring, I just know it! I'm sure there will be more snow, more cold days, I may even fall in the driveway once or twice more, but it's coming!

Is this feeling something in the air or is it something in me? I am feeling the start of a new attitude, a new...........something. I don't know what it is, or maybe I do and I'm just not ready to share yet.

Either way, it is the time of year for a fresh start, a new beginning. New Years day is never that for me because it's too cold, I can't stand the cold. I need the days to warm up, just a bit, to remind me that spring will come once again, and with it the promise of beginning, one more chance to get things right.

And to reinforce what I'm feeling, my tulips are poking their pretty little points up, letting me know soon, very soon, they will be waving their pretty heads at me. Along with the daffodils that look like sunshine, and the hyacinths that smell so sweet. Yes, soon I will be mowing the yard and planting the garden and weeding the flower beds. But I'll also be sitting in the back yard watching the sunset feeling very, very grateful.

I can't wait!

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

That's hoarding, with a D

Today I discovered that I am not immune to hoarding. We all know someone who hoards, or at least we’ve seen it on TV. Some people hoard a little, they call it collecting, “Oh those 827 pairs of salt and pepper shakers shaped like farm animals, I collect those.” Some people hoard a lot- somewhat like the city dump.

I used to be friends with someone who hoarded everything. Personally, she was a very clean, put together person, but walk in her house and all bets were off. Every place she lived in the six years I knew her, the only way to navigate her home was a path. It went from the front door, to the kitchen, along the counter and then to the bathroom and finally to the bed. There were other rooms in her home but they were full. We never sat on the couch and gossiped over a cup of coffee, we sat on the bed, the only place that wasn’t piled with stuff.

It drove me crazy, I always wanted to clean it up for her but I came to understand that it was a control issue for her. Other areas of her life were out of control but by accumulating more and more possessions she felt like she would never be without what she needed. If you needed to borrow a crock pot, she had four, different sizes, which one will work? Same with patio furniture, dressers, dishes, clothing, shoes, cd players, pens, anything you can imagine. If you needed it, she had it.

After spending time with her I would return home, going from room to room with a trash bag, finding things that I could give to the local charity to reduce the amount of clutter in my house. Purging is my control method. When I’m overwhelmed, stressed, unhappy, I just load up the car and take a load of stuff to Big Brothers and Big Sisters, or put it all on Freecycle so people can come and pick it up. I never buy anything unless I have a use for it, have been looking for one, and know exactly where I’m going to put it when I get it home. Christmas and birthdays are stressful for me, all that new stuff to find a home for, what can I get rid of to make room for this stuff. My motto is definitely out with the old, in with the new.

So why, oh why, someone please tell me why I bought six jewelry armoires today at lunch? Yes, they were a really, really good buy. Yes, there are people I can give them to for Christmas. Yes, I’ve wanted one. But really, six? What the hell was I thinking? Christmas gifts? It's January, what am I going to do with these things when I get them home?

It started innocently enough. Joyce and I went to lunch then to Target. Joyce needed a few things and then we wandered around. We had almost made it out when we saw the pile of clearanced armoires. There were twelve of them. Initially we were each going to get one, then we started thinking of all the other people who might like one and we bought them all. Every. Last. One. Plus Joyce got one in another style that was clearanced as well.

So we have four carts and 13 jewelry armoires and one jeep. We managed to get 8 of them in the jeep, I have to go after work and pick up the other five.

I realized that this is what happens to women who are not getting their needs met in other ways. We start hoarding. 3 sweaters, 2 radios, 4 crock pots, pens in every color, cloth napkins for the dinner party we’re going to have, a shower curtain for every occasion, ten coats, 52 pairs of boots, 100’s of candles and before you know it we are homeless women pushing shopping carts full of jewelry armoires. We seriously need to get laid.

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Our Excellence Celebrated

Joyce and I got an award at work for achieving the standard of excellence. Here we are with the rest of our excellent peers.

For achieving this outstanding goal we received a lovely balloon, which you can see in the picture with us, a free lunch- Olive Garden lasagna, most yummy, and a pen with our name engraved.

The pen came with it’s own little wooden box that was carved on the top to let everyone know how excellent we are, in case they missed the memo.

But the thing Joyce and I noticed first about that wooden box?

You can put your weed in it! Most excellent.

Monday, January 18, 2010

I hate Mondays...well, really, just snow.

It was a wonderful weekend. I went out with friends on Friday night, ran into an old friend and got reacquainted a bit. Went to the mall with Mo on Saturday to get her a new phone, her's took a toilet dive, then we went to lunch and picked up the world's cutest baby, my little love, Ivy. Then we went to Walmart, we were in desperate need of tampons and sippy cups. Also, big sister got a phone so little sister got an outfit, we believe in fair spoiling around here!

Sunday I took Ivy to her Daddy, Mo went to church, then to Dad's then spent the night at Ria's. I had a wonderful relaxing day, spent most of it on the couch with a couple books. Then the old friend I ran into stopped over and we talked for a while.

All in all, a wonderful weekend, the kind that makes you fall asleep on Sunday night with a smile on your face.

Then, along comes Monday. Usually, I love Monday. I'm one of those perpetually cheerful people who just know it's going to be a good day. Today was no exception.

I noticed it was snowing and we already had an inch or so on the ground when I let the dogs out. No big deal, certainly not enough to rain on my parade.

I danced around in my underwear, drinking my coffee while I got ready. I usually don't get to dance in the morning because Mo is asleep so I was taking full advantage of her being gone. As Mo says " Mom's having naked time again."

I was out the door with plenty of time to clear off the car and still make it to work on time. It's going to be a great day!

Since I am remodeling the bathroom I can't park in the garage, that is where all of the refinishing work is going on. So currently the vanity is taken apart and in various stages of being primed or painted. The countertop is waiting to be sanded. No room at the inn for the Mom car, no big deal.

I go out the front door and down the sidewalk- rainbows still flying out of my butt- cause, remember, it's gonna be a great day!

Suddenly I'm on my ass. Rainbows do not give you much cushion. I sit there for a second, trying to see if anything I need is broken but I'm not able to really take the time I need because my HUGE coffee mug was in my hand and now all 64 ounces of hot coffee is melting my skirt to my legs. I jump up. Mistake number two, guess what, right back on my ass.

Ok, I'll crawl, I can't wear this skirt to work anyway. I manage to get upright and start back up the walk only to realize, I have no freaking idea where my keys are. Apparently while I was falling I was flinging my keys away from me, I guess I wanted to make sure I didn't put an eye out.

It is 5:15 am. It's still dark. I am locked out of my house in a soaking wet skirt, I am locked out of my car, the key pad for the garage doesn't work when it's cold. How in the hell am I going to find my keys?

After about 20 minutes of the crouching shuffle I manage to locate my keys clear the hell over by the neighbors fence. My skirt is frozen stiff, my butt is black and blue, and I have no time to do anything with this drowned rat look that is now on my head from crouching in the snow for 20 minutes.

Who's idea was it to get out of bed anyway?

Thursday, January 14, 2010

One more reason to remain single.....

I found another reason to stay single, cause the men are beating down my door you know. Anyway, I decided to paint the main living area in my house, ready?..... Drum roll please..............purple and green!!

I know what you're thinking- Will she come paint my house too? Not a chance baby! Today while I was sanding the skim coat in the bathroom I decided I needed to go to Home Depot. So off I went, covered in drywall mud dusty stuff.

Once in this wonderous store that makes my heart beat faster than a gift card for Victoria's Secret, I decided I needed to pick out colors for the living area. The purple is quite lovely, especially if you're royal. It's a deep dark purple called Black Tulip and the huge wall that goes all the way to the vaulted ceiling will be this lovely shade. Everything else will be cool cucumber, a barely there green, not minty, kind of white sitting next to green and getting a reflection from it.

Can't wait to start. While I'm at it, I'm jumping in with both feet. My room is going to be so damn girlie that when I meet a man he will insist we sell my house and buy one on the beach somewhere.

I'm thinking shades of pink and lavender, maybe a touch of blue thrown in to make it sing. I can't wait to live where it's warm.

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Get uncomfortable, you're gonna be here a while

Do you actively live your life or do you just get up every morning and mindlessly do the things that need to be done? How often do you really think about something you do every day before you do it?

I remember listening to one of those motivational speakers and one thing that he said that stuck was “ You will never make a change as long as you are comfortable so get uncomfortable!”

I’m comfortable, I wake up every morning in my cozy bed, with my cute little dogs and have a cup of coffee. Then it’s off to work, same job, same people, same paycheck. Then it’s back home to my snug little house with my darling daughter, reading, working on the house, whatever.

Step out of my comfort zone? I don’t freaking think so! Well, it’s time to step out of that zone. You know what they say- If you continue to do the same things you’ve always done you will continue to get the same things you’ve always got. I’m tired of that, but it’s going to take some pushing!

I recently received and email from a local charity about an event and thought- that sounds like a blast, an opportunity to meet new people, do something different, then I thought, who will go with me? And that friends and neighbors, is the first problem. If I go with someone I know it will turn into something it’s always been even though it’s something I’ve never done. So I’m going to go alone. I’m scared, nervous, what if no one talks to me, what if I don’t have fun, what if ……………..Then I’ll just leave. Geez, it doesn’t have to be this hard. I’m not good at going places alone, so that will be my first step in making myself uncomfortable.

I’m looking forward to it, I’m going to buy my ticket before I chicken out, once I have the ticket I know I’ll go, it’s fifty bucks, so purchasing in advance will force me to do it. Now I need a mardi gras mask and some beads……………

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

I am the next American Idol!!!

First let me say, I hate TV. I almost never watch it. I'm not completely sure why we own three TV's, but we do. For me, the only thing worth watching is football. I also watch The Secret Life of the American Teenager, not because it's good, but because the acting is sooooooo bad that Mo and I spend the whole hour making fun of the dramatics so it is a bonding experience for us. (See previous post)

And then, there is American Idol. I'm not a fan of reality TV. Jon and Kate plus 8- never watched it. 18 kids and counting- seriously, does she even need to go to the hospital any more, keep your legs crossed till the turkey timer belly button pops, then open your legs and out falls baby 512. Big Brother? Nanny 911? Something about voting people off an island? All I can say is stupid, stupid, stupid. Of course, that is just my opinion, and opinions are like assholes.......but back to my point.

American Idol. I absolutely love this show. Not actually the show, but the first few episodes where they put on the people who are horrible but think they can sing. They are my favorite, maybe because I recognize my own singing ability in theirs, or maybe I just like to make fun of people. Also, do these people have no friends? Seriously, if my friend or sister sounded like someone swinging a cat when she sang I would lay in front of her car rather than let her go on national TV and embarrass herself.

It's one thing to not say anything bad when someone can't sing (and I appreciate this more than you know) but it's a completely different thing when you let them believe they have a chance to be THE NEXT AMERICAN IDOL!! Friends don't let friends sing on TV. Just because you sounded good doing karaoke after a few beers does not mean you can sing.

My all time favorite? Season two- Keith and his rendition of Like a Virgin. Here he is, for your enjoyment, everyone needs a good laugh.

Don't forget, season premier of idol, tonight. Can anyone top Keith?

Monday, January 11, 2010

Family home evening

If you are from Utah, you know all about family home evening, if not, you will just have to bear with me.
Mo and I do our own version, there are no scriptures read or lessons learned. We spend quality mother/daughter bonding time. Sunshine and unicorns I tell you. It goes something like this.
Get home from work, Mo is already on the computer, ask her to go to the store with me, I need painting supplies. She declines and goes to her room. Loud music commences, the dogs hide in the kennel together.
Go upstairs and tell Mo if she comes with me I'll buy her fast food for dinner. She's coming, can't believe I have to bribe my kid to go out in public with me.
We get to the store, she wants to look at stuff on the other side of the store, the better to bond with you dear mother. I have to text her when I'm ready to leave because I can't find her.
Come home, I'm going to work on that half bath, maybe she'll help me! Oh wait, she's fallen asleep on the couch. I decide to work on a baby quilt and google "green" gifts for next Christmas. You know how I feel about google, and Christmas.
Mo wakes up at 8:30, just in time to watch our favorite show together The Secret Life of the American Teenager. Everyone on that show is having sex with someone, even if it's just themselves.
I made Mo pinky swear she wouldn't have sex until she was twenty, and after she did it, with a smile on her face, I told her that if you lie to your mother about having sex your vagina will fall off.
June Cleaver's got nothing on me.

Sunday, January 10, 2010

I'm late, I'm late...............

Yikes! For some reason January has me running like my butt is on fire. My honey do list is a mile long and growing. The fact that I have ADD and am so easily distracted doesn't help.
I probably spend an hour a day googling. Everything you ever wanted to know, and lots you didn't, is just one google question away. The bad part is, the more you ask, the more you want to know.
Yesterday I went to Wendover with Joyce. It was a blast. Joyce, as always, made me laugh, starting with "I'm already feeling overstimulated." We hadn't even left the parking lot.
It was difficult to fit this day trip into my schedule, I'm remodeling a bathroom you know. So before I went I had to gut the bathroom and patch all the holes so I can get ready to skim coat and sand. Every wall in this house needs to be skim coated due to a previous owners wallpaper addiction.
While gutting the bathroom I decided I should google "how to remove a toilet" just in case there are toilet secrets I didn't know. I don't want to be up to my elbows in sewage. I'd have to sell the house. While I'm waiting for that to load, I remember that I need to research cutting countertops, so I open another screen. Then I think, what if I can "redo" the existing countertop. Another screen.
Back to the toilet google, I read instructions on three different web pages just to make sure, and one of them is a Home Depot project page. I have to register, they will send me emails. New projects! Saturday project clinics! Preparing your yard for spring checklist! That one said to trim the roses, I was dressed and out the door before I remembered that my roses are still snow covered.
Somewhere in there I got sidetracked, believe it or not, but I now have a gutted bathroom and instructions for a Christmas gift for Joyce next year.

Saturday, January 9, 2010

Add it to the list

I think I may need professional help. Today I was disassembling the vanity in the half bath so I can take it out of the bathroom to strip it.
I found myself yelling at this inanimate object several times when a particularly stubborn screw finally started turning.
What was I yelling? "That's right, who's your Daddy now?"
Tourette's and Alzheimer's, my golden years are gonna be fun!

Friday, January 8, 2010

Life starts now!

I am finally decorating my house. I know that doesn’t sound like a big deal, but it is. I bought my beautiful home one year, eight and a half months ago.

I love everything about my house. It has a tiny yard, perfect for me to take care of and my two little dogs to run in, three bathrooms, perfect for living with a teenager, two car garage, we have two cars, a swamp cooler, I love the windows open. Everything about it is perfect. So why does it look like no one lives there?

I’ve always taken pride in decorating my home and having people say how comfortable they feel in my home, how welcome. This poor house, I’ve done nothing. I recently realized that is because I’ve been waiting to be in a relationship, to get someone else’s input. What??

Oh hell no! I worked hard for this house, I pay for it, and dammit I’m going to decorate it any way I want. I’ve been doing little things, like Mo’s room and the spare bedroom but now, it’s on!

I’ve had a hard time talking myself into decorating, but slowly, I’m convincing myself that I need to do this. I want my house to feel like my home, to reflect my personality.

I’m starting small, the half bath off the family room. I’ve been ripping down wallpaper and gathering things to decorate. Mo and I picked out the paint, I found some towel bars, a new light, a soap dispenser. It’s starting to come together and I’m excited.

I also bought a picture for my family room, one that I've wanted for a long time but couldn't bring myself to buy, and took down the hideous vertical blinds in the kitchen. I’m not crazy about the curtains I hung up there, but they are an improvement over those stinking blinds. I have two lamps I got from freecycle in the family room, makes it feel cozy.

I am already feeling a difference when I walk in my house. It makes me happy. Now everywhere I look in my house I see something I want to do, and there is no longer a little voice in my head telling me to wait, so that when I meet a man and get in a relationship we can decorate it together.

I can’t wait to get home every day so I can work on one of my projects. I can’t believe I’ve waited this long. I have a list of beautiful, wonderful things I want to do so my house reflects who I am. Once I am done, I may never want to leave it!

It’s time to stop waiting for some day. We all do it. The list of reasons is endless, when the kids are older, grown, out of the house, when I retire, when I make X amount of money each year, when I lose weight, cut my hair, grow my hair out, get a new car, meet a man, get married, get divorced, get a new job, on and on and on.

Why wait, there is no time like the present. Yesterday is gone, tomorrow may never come. Today is all we have. I’m going to try to make the most of it.

Thursday, January 7, 2010

My name is Carol, and I'm addicted to peanut butter

There, I've said it! I don't know where this came from, I used to have a normal relationship with peanut butter.
I made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for Mo. Put peanut butter on celery sticks to entice her to eat them, put peanut butter in cookies. Normal things, everyone does. Somewhere along the line, something went wrong.
I became obsessed. My darling daughter? She really doesn't care that much about peanut butter, which is good, I'm not sure I'm up to sharing right now.

What you see here is what I buy at Sam's Club EVERY WEEK! For those of you who can't read the fine print that is 80 ounces of peanut butter. These are not the little wimpy regular size jars, these are bigger than mayonaisse jars.

I keep a jar at home and a jar at work. I sneak peanut butter at work because everyone has noticed how much peanut butter I eat and they comment about it. I eat apples and peanut butter at breakfast. Soup and peanut butter toast for lunch. Spoons of peanut butter for a snack. Then when I come home, I have peanut butter for dessert, each and every day.

I am in Utah and my food storage consists entirely of peanut butter. Everyone at work talks about what they have in food storage, what is best, what keeps best, how often you should rotate. I have peanut butter, a few bottles of wine and some toilet paper. I'm ready for Armageddon!

Is there help for someone like me? A twelve step program? Is peanut butter the new crack? Will I have to live in a cardboard box under the viaduct turning tricks for peanut butter? Is this what it's come to?

Oh well, I'm not ready to give it up. It's not a problem unless I'm willing to admit it and I say, back off, who asked you anyway?

Tuesday, January 5, 2010

Cleaning,decorating, purging and moving

I need to sit still. Just long enough to finish a book or maybe take a bath. I have been spinning out of control since it became 2010. So much to do, so much to do!

I spent my looooooong weekend cleaning and deciding how I want to decorate/remodel the half bath. Don’t be jealous.

I gave away more things on freecycle than I knew I owned. I got rid of about 150 books and several boxes of household items and still had a trunk load to take to the local thrift store.

I’ve been exercising, even though that little Wii woman is the devil.

I’ve even been landscaping my farm on Farmville. What’s all this about you might ask? PROCRASTINATION!!!!

The one thing I want to do, and want to do really, really well, is finish one of my books. Yet day after day I find reasons to do other things instead of write.

I want to write, I love to write, I could do it for hours, once I get started. It’s just getting started. I have two books that are nearing completion and that is where the trouble comes from.

I don’t suffer from writers block, I suffer from “what if I’m not good enough” block. As long as my books remain something I’m going to do “someday” no one ever says they are not good enough.

It’s like sending your baby to kindergarten that first day. What if no one likes my book? What if she sits all alone on a shelf and no one ever reads her? Can my heart stand it if the critics say something bad about her?

So, I procrastinate. I clean, even vacuum. Decorate, oh and I found the cutest little do it yourself project for the big bathroom on one of the blogs I follow, write this silly blog, harvest crops in Farmville and count down the minutes until The Secret Life of the American Teenager comes on.

Tonight I will write, after my bath. I have been writing every night but it’s tiny little baby steps. I need to jump in with both feet, get wet, splash around, I love the people in my books, I vow to spend more time with them.

But first, I will be moving my blog back to blogspot, I miss it there. Yes, I realize this is one more procrastination tool, but at least I haven’t started building that bookshelf yet!

In the gay old summertime.... 01/04/10

I”ve been trying to decide what I wanted to write about today, I always have really, really good ideas right after I finish writing a blog, and then I promptly forget them when it’s time to write the next one.

Today two things have been on my mind, gays and summer, and while deciding which to write about I decided they have a lot in common:

1. summer- better clothing choices, shopping with a gay friend- better clothing choices- because he will not let you out of the house looking like that!

2. summer- fireworks, staying up too late, drinking too much, hanging out with my gay friends- fireworks, staying up too late, drinking too much

3. summer- ends too soon, gay friends-hooks up with that jealous new boyfriend and the friendship ends too soon

Ok, so maybe not too much in common but I’m trying to work both things into this blog tonight because both are bouncing around my head. I miss summer, I miss my gay friends- see, one more thing in common.

Seriously though, is it just me or are there LOTS more gay people in the world? Not that I’m complaining, except that all the gorgeous guys are gay but that is another story. I’m not homophobic or anything so I’m not offended or uncomfortable, I’m just curious.

Not about that sicko, we all know how it works! I’m curious about the numbers. Are there (seemingly) more gay people now because there are more people? Like have the actual percentages stayed the same but the overall number grew?

Or is it that we’ve finally become accepting enough for people to be who they are? At least once a week there is an openly gay child in my house. At least 50% of Mo’s friends are gay and the rest are bisexual.

I can’t even imagine what it would have been like for one of the guys at my high school to admit he was gay. I know there is still way too much bullying that goes on when a child is “different”. Whether that difference is sexual orientation or height, hair color, race or any number of things, it is still hard to be different.

However, there has been a huge shift and hopefully our children and their children will create a world where everyone is safe, no matter who you love or what color your skin may be.

My darling daughter frustrates me so much sometimes but one thing that makes me so proud is that she doesn’t see those differences. Granted we live in one of the whitest states so race really isn’t an issue, but she is not bothered by someone’s sexual orientation. Why should she be? It doesn’t affect her life, her choices.

As for summer time, there is way too little of that it seems. As soon as it starts, it’s over and we are shopping for school clothes. I miss warm days, warm nights, sitting on the deck with friends, taking long walks, even doing yard work.

I just had a thought, I’m going to be really upset if as the number of gay people goes up the number of summer days goes down. I’m sure there is no relationship, but it’s starting to look very, very suspicious!

I guess I just wanted to say, come on summer time and gay friends, I love you both!

Possessed by Taz 01/03/10

Ah, the new year. Why does it make me crazy? Right now I’m taking a little break so I can tell all of you how insane I’ve become.

So I have these new years resolutions, one of them is to write, everyday, so I’ve been writing, which is good. I also resolved to exercise, so I’ve been exercising, again, good. Oh, and there’s that whole vacuuming thing, I’ve vacuumed everyday for three days.

Now, separately there is nothing wrong with these things, but when you put them together you get a day that looks like this:

Get up, make coffee, make bed, drink coffee while writing blog. Struggle with blog because we don’t want to cause too much embarrassment, I’m still related to these women.

Work on my novel for 30 minutes, which turns into 55 minutes.

Switch laundry, bring all the baskets from the basement upstairs and fold them.

Work out for an hour. I am humiliated by the cartoon trainer on my Wii Fit. I hate that animated freak of nature.

Pour vinegar and baking soda down all drains, followed by boiling water. Why you ask? Hell if I know!

Scrub the kitchen floor.

Bathe both dogs, trim the hair around their faces and butts. I know you’re jealous, back off. Then dress them in their little sweaters. Realize that Pierre’s beer gut makes him too chubby for his sweater so throw on some pants and go to Walmart to get a new sweater. Pick up toothpaste while I’m there.

Clean the bathroom because that’s where I bathed the dogs.

Vacuum- there’s a lot of dog hair. Amazing how fast face and butt hair grows on my dogs.

Take pictures of the half bath because I”m getting ready to remodel it. Look through pics on computer to find the ones I took of the half bath when I first bought the house. Put all in a folder to share with my bloggy friends later.

Write this blog, then I’m going to peel the wallpaper backing off the walls in the half bath. It’s only 3:14. Help me, I am spinning out of control!

F is for fun 01/03/09

Last night was the official night out for Terriepalooza- we celebrate my sister’s birthday for a week leading up to it- the benefits of being the middle sister.

We went to our favorite cowboy bar, the one where we usually spend most of our time making fun of everyone, well, this time, I think they were making fun of us.

My sisters started getting their drink on before they left the house and by the time I got to the bar, they were both a little tipsy.

Terrie rode the bull, Angie needed quiet time, the rest of us, we danced and laughed till security said it was time to go.

You gotta put your past, behind you 01/02/10

2010 is going to be a great year! So far, it’s amazing. I know it’s only been one full day but I’m feeling a shift here. Yesterday I didn’t break a single one of my resolutions, I even vacuumed! The house is starting to feel like it belongs to someone else, it’s almost too clean.

So today, the second beautiful day of 2010, some things from the past knocked on my door. First, the man who took the pictures when Steve and I got married, passed away last night. His name was Walt and he was Steve’s brothers best friend since childhood. Today is a very sad day for all of the brothers, Walt was like a brother from another mother. Walt and Rick had a friendship that most of us never get to experience and my heart hurts for Rick today.

The second thing from the past, was a text from that stupid man I got rid of. He has got to be kidding.” It’s a new year, time to forgive me so we can move on.” What the f**k is he smoking? I cannot believe the nerve he has, then he had to throw in there “We miss you” because he knows I love his kids.

In the past, I would have responded, with the intention of telling him what an idiot I think he is, and it would have somehow turned into him coming over and me forgiving him, but not this time. Thanks to my new found friend, “Jessica” I’m much stronger and I see him for the lying, cheating scumbag he is. All I can say is, it sucks to be him, he had two amazing women who loved him and he used us both, he won’t get that lucky again. I deleted the message, one day he will get the hint.

It snowed again last night so again today I’m off to shovel. Don’t you wish you were me? Tonight is the biggest night of Terriepalooza, me and my sisters are going to the Westerner, we’re going to try to save a horse, if you know what I mean.

My New Years Resolutions 01/01/10

2010- Can you believe it’s here? I can’t. I can’t believe it’s 2000 anything! Yet here we are, 2010, just what are we going to do with this whole year, spread out before us like fresh, untracked snow. Time to become who we are, change the things we don’t like, add somethings we do and just plain have some fun. So, here are the things I resolve to do this year…..

1. Quit Smoking- I know, I know, this is here every year for lots of us, but this time, I mean it! It’s already been almost ten hours and I’m fine, really, just fine, quit freaking nagging me about it, are you trying to stress me out?

2. Exercise at least five days a week- even in the winter. I have to keep losing the same ten pounds over and over every year because I work out all spring, summer and fall but come winter, it’s cookies and couch time for me.

3. Cook more than once a month, it cannot be healthy for us to eat ramen noodles five times a week- oh wait, you have to cook those so I’m good on this one already!

4. Learn to put on fake eyelashes so Clay doesn’t say, every time “Nice Eyelashes”

5. Let my baby grow up. Scratch that, I’m not ready.

6. Stop being so picky. Cause Clay says that’s why I’m not married. I don’t think I’m picky, I think I’ve made some mistakes in the past so now I just have higher standards. I mean, seriously, velcro shoes? Ok maybe we have to scratch this one too.

7. Write every, single day, all year long. And I don’t mean just Facebook postings and twitter updates either. Every day I will work on one of my novels. I want to live where it’s warm and not go into an office everyday, maybe, just maybe, I can do that with my writing but I’ll never know if I don’t finish something!

8. Take one fun mini vacation every month. Hopefully somewhere outside of Utah!

9. Smile more.

10. Judge less

11. Speak my mind, stand up for myself. I tend to let people walk all over me and instead of letting them know when they hurt my feelings I just walk away. Not anymore, if you are pissing in my Cheerios, I’m gonna tell you!

12. Learn to love, or at least tolerate, vacuuming. It is my least favorite household chore, I will clean the kitchen , scrub toilets, do laundry, anything but vacuum. And it shows, my poor carpets, the only time they get vacuumed is if we are having company, which is almost never, and I have two dogs. I really need to learn to like it.

13. Invite people over more. That way my carpet will get vacuumed.

14.Clip my toenails more, at least in the summer so poor Angie doesn’t get freaked out every time she sees my feet.

15. Be nicer to my parents.

16. Stop making resolutions and just live every day, improving as I can, and always remember, I’m good enough, I’m smart enough and dog gone it, people like me!

Thank you Stuart Smalley for reminding us how wonderful we are.

Happy New Year everyone, hope it is everything you dreamed of and some unexpectedly wonderful things you didn’t.

Happy New Years Eve 12/31/09

It’s that time of year again, when we remind ourselves why we don’t drink to excess the rest of the year. Well, there was that 4th of July episode but I’m not talking about that anymore.

Tonight I”m going to see my ex husbands band play. There are several reasons for this:

1. We get along!

2. I love to hear this band, not the other one but we won’t go there.

3. I have a crush on the harmonica player.

4. I didn’t have any other plans and eating pizza and watching Johnny Depp with three teenage girls, as fun as that sounds, makes me wish I was deaf.

So, I need something to wear. I head to the mall with Trina and we go to the store where my darling Mo works. I tell my baby girl what we are looking for-

” Something sparkly, and a little naked.”

” Gross Mom, I’ll help Aunt Trina, you are on your own.” Brat.

So I start looking through the racks and everything I pick my beautiful baby girl says “Not that, you’ll look like a hooker.” Maybe that’s the look I’m going for……

She brings Trina these cute things to try on. Me, I get baggy T shirts with old lady patterns on them. I choose a really cute shirt and black leggings and am heading to the dressing room.

Mo steps in front of me, ” Not gonna happen, Mom, I’m not letting you leave the house dressed like that.” (Wonder where she heard that?)

”It’s not up to you baby girl.”

” Mom, did you forget, I’m your ride tonight and I’m not taking you anywhere dressed like that.”

Damn her. I bought a black tank top and I’m coming home, dressing like a hooker and wearing my trench coat so she can’t see.

She’s not the boss of me!

Happy New Years everyone, I will be back tomorrow with resolutions!

And here we are again 12/17/09

Today was a good day, maybe not fantastic or even out of the ordinary good, just plain old good. Any day that I laugh with my teenager is a good day. Today we laughed a lot.

After work Mo wanted to go and look at dresses for homecoming. You should know, this child, she is the power shopper from hell. We went to the local gotta have it overpriced prom dress store where a very skinny middle-aged woman swooped in to help us.

In five minutes Mo had me standing with both arms in the air holding multiple dresses up off the floor. The tiny little woman came to my rescue, took the dresses and got us a dressing room.

After touring the store for ten minutes, Mo had seven dresses to try on. They all weighed about twenty pounds each and required removal of her head to get them on.

We need a puffy slip, we need heels, we need jewelry. The tiny woman was happy to oblige. I felt a little bad for her, she wanted the commission on one of those $400 dresses and I knew we were just tire kickers. Mo loves trying on princess dresses.

Believe it or not, she had all those dresses on, accessorized, pictures taken and back in her street clothes in under thirty minutes. And they all had to be laced up the back, and then unlaced, by the same starving mother.

My daughter, I think she is adopted, well I would if I was ever able to forget pushing her out of my girlie bits, has a shape I would kill for, this tiny little waist and boobs she must have paid for with tooth fairy money because they didn’t come from me! Every dress fit like a glove, like it was made for her. She looked beautiful, just like when she was five and playing dress up.

Fortunately for both of us, Mo shares my twisted sense of humor. She tried on one dress that was very pretty but had this weird kind of open topped box that her boobs sat in. She looked down at her chest and then up at me while trying to close the top of the box and preserve some of her modesty. She started laughing, and I knew instantly that we both had the same thought ” You can put your weed in it.”

After major dressing and undressing we went to dinner and started talking about being politically correct. Holiday lights, do Jews put up lights? I think not so they are Christmas lights. Then Jew made Mo think of her friend, who is a Jew, pretty rare here in Momoville. Then, wonder of wonders, there is a new kid at her school, he is black, and jewish. I asked if he was Sammy Davis Jr’s kid, cause seriously, how many black jews are there? Then we were coming up with new names for people and I said “He’s a jewack” We always combine what you are, if you are a diabetic jew, you are a jewetic, one of those dumb things we do. Then Mo said “No, he’s blackish”

Being ever so quick to catch on, I thought she meant not really black, so I’m trying to figure out what to call him when she says ” you know mom black and jewish- blackish. Then I laughed like a hyena and she knew I got it. She also informed me we are going to hell. I hope they have ju ju fish there.

One more reason.... 12/16/09

So, I found another use for a man. I know they have many, many uses, but I’m talking about the really important ones.

Cleaning the drying lint curly hose thingy. I don’t mean that I need a man to clean that out, I need a man to pull the dryer out after I’ve trapped myself between the dryer and the wall, and am awkwardly bent over because there is a shelf over the dryer so I can’t get any leverage to push the damn thing out after I’ve pulled it back too far.

I pride myself on taking care of stuff around the house. When I get in a relationship again I want it to be because I really, really want to be with someone, not because I need him to take the trash to the curb, although, that would be nice. Anyway, back to the point.

I try to do things myself so that I know I can and so that my mythical perfect man will know that I can survive without him but choose not to. So, every time I read some little tidbit about home maintenance I strap on my tool belt, get the safety glasses, pour a glass of wine and get to work!

A little background, my washer and dryer are slowly dying so every time I use them I praise them and tell them what good little laundry friends they are. My washer only washes in cold water because the little thingy that lets you change water temperature broke off inside the washer. I guess it’s good that it broke on cold water. If it was hot water then every week after doing laundry I would have to find a ten-year old who likes to dress up like a middle-aged woman trying to look 27 to give all my clothes to. Anyway……. it takes the dryer HHHOOOUUUURRRRSSSS to dry a load of clothes.

Last night I was bored and googled “What the hell is wrong with my dryer?” One of the things google suggested was cleaning the vent hose. Aha! Yet another job for Super Single Woman ( I really do need a cape) Down to the basement I went, pulled out the dryer, stared for several minutes and got to work.

My laundry room is in the basement, in the middle of my house so the hose goes through the wall, up stairs, takes a sharp left and vents to the backyard. I only checked the part that was attached to the dryer, and only as far up as I could see. If a family of rabid trolls lives in my dryer hose I’m not going to be the one to disturb them.

So, no obstruction, so that’s probably not why my clothes will dry faster if I leave the dryer off and the door open. I decide that maybe the hose is too kinked between the dryer and wall so I shove as much of it up into the wall as I can and pull the dryer back as close to the wall as I can get, shimmy down, bend my head at an unnatural angle I will pay for tomorrow, and reattach the hose.

Then, in a moment of brilliance I decide to pull the dryer back more while keeping my feet on each side of the hose so I can push it into the wall as the dryer comes back. Do not try this at home.

I did it! The dryer is against my belly, my butt is against the wall, the hose is unkinked………………….I can’t get out. The shelf over the dryer prevents me from escaping by going straight up and over the back of the dryer, I could you know, I used to be a gymnast. And because I’ve squashed myself against the wall I have no leverage.

Who do you possibly call in a situation like this? Your teenager who will not get off the couch unless it’s on fire? Your friends, who have real lives and cannot come and rescue you every time you do something dumb? Your sisters who will take pictures and put them on Facebook? I think not.

So there I stand, sort of, it’s more like a hunchback pose, the top of the dryer is biting into my boobs so of course I can’t use those to push, I’m Super Single Woman, not Super Boob Woman.

After much swearing and lots of bruises on my knees and shins from kicking the back of the dryer, I escape. The stupid dryer is back against the wall, I’m sure the hose is kinked, but I don’t care. I almost spilled my wine and that would be a tragedy. Clothes will dry, spilled wine can never be drunk!

You're not the boss of me! 12/15/09

Remember when you were a kid, and your mean mother sent you to your room, yet again, for hitting your sister, who totally deserved it, and you stomped in your room, and slammed the door thinking “I can’t wait until I’m 18, then no one can tell me what to do!”

Oh, poor, misguided child. I remember when I turned 18 and moved out, because, now, I’m the boss. But wait, my husband wanted dinner and clean underwear and a house the health department wouldn’t shut down. And my boss actually expected me to work for my paycheck, you know, come in on time, take lunch when he said, all that bullshit.

I had no idea how bad it really was until I had a child. Suddenly, I wasn’t the boss of anything! ” No, we can’t go to our friends house Honey because that’s during Mo’s nap time, and you know what she’s like when she doesn’t have a nap. I’ll just stay home.” I didn’t eat warm food for two years, because , without fail, every time I sat down to eat, Mo needed something.

When they are little you don’t think of it as being bossy and controlling, they need you, so of course, you comply. What they are really doing is training you. They start the day they are born, it’s just little things, like you want to sleep and they want to nurse. So you nurse. Then you want to sleep and they have shit completely through their clothes so now you are up, bathing the baby and washing crib sheets. Then, you want to sleep, they decide it’s a good night to get a new tooth. Again you want to sleep, but your two-year old decides that since the sun is awake, Mommy should be too.

You wanna have sex? Forget it, they won’t sleep anywhere but between the two of you. You sing at the top of your lungs through Toys R Us to cover the giggling from the doll in the cart that your cute little three-year old just asked Santa for, on Christmas Eve.

All of that is cute, small potatoes, but, it’s training all the same. One day they will be sixteen and on a Sunday night, about 9 o’clock, after your bubble bath, when you are in your warm pajama’s ready to curl up with a book, she will say ” We need to go to Walmart and get construction paper, and glow in the dark stars, and string, and something to make planets out of for an Astronomy project that is due TOMORROW. So you get off the couch, get dressed, go to Walmart, spend 50 bucks on supplies for a project she WILL NEVER TURN IN! You know why?

Because you are not the boss of her and the truth is, the only time you get to do what you want to do, is when you are sixteen and you are sneaking behind your parents backs.

I wanna be sixteen again, and do what I want to do, all while driving my mother crazy! Oh, the good ole days!

Hmmmmm 12/15/09

Some days, I don’t blog. I want to, but I don’t think I have anything to say. Today I realized, I have lots to say, not all of it makes sense, but damn it, it’s rolling around in my head so I’m going to subject you to it.

First of all, really Target? WTF!!! I went to buy a space heater and an electric shovel because it’s 5 degrees and snowing it’s ass off- just for the record, it’s not hot in hell, it snows, ALL THE FREAKING TIME! Anyway, I’m freezing, I have on a skirt, with nylons, under armor, and stretch pants underneath, a turtle neck, a sweater, a winter coat, hat, gloves, scarf, AND I STILL CAN’T GET WARM! And this from a woman subject to frequent and uncontrollable hot flashes.

I grab the space heater, thinking if I could marry an inanimate object, this would be it, I also grab the electric snow shovel, because did I mention, it’s freezing AND SNOWING! I’m heading to the check out and what to my wondering eyes appear? No not Santa———-SWIMSUITS!

That’s right, 2010 summer season bathing suits, bikini’s, tankini’s, one pieces, suits with skirts, anything your heart could desire. If your hearts desire was to get naked and try on various shades of dental floss while icicles drip from your nose and the hair on your girlie bits freezes up and breaks off.

Do retailers really hate us that much? At this point I can’t even imagine getting naked for sex, not that I have to worry about that, but a girl can dream. Also, you know, this time of year is sacred to women. Come January 1st we start starving ourselves, going to the gym, passing out from hunger, all those things we do to look hot in that bikini.

Come August, all bets are off for four glorious months. We eat what we want, dont’ work out, have permanent chocolate breath, but hey, that’s why winter clothes are bulky.

Now, I have to start dieting in August to fit into the swim suits that hit the stores after Thanksgiving, you know all the cute ones will be gone before President’s Day!

Someone must pay for this…

Need a babysitter? 12/08/09

Now that there seems to be an abundance of little people in my world and I’m spending some time tending them,I’ve started thinking, ” Do their parents have any idea who they are leaving their child with?”

Oh sure, Mo is seemingly well-adjusted, babies and animals like her, but I’m sure, one day, on some therapists couch it’s all going to come tumbling out.

My journey into being the best aunt in the world started long before Mo was born. My beautiful little niece Kay, Shirley Temple curls, face of an angel, mouth like a sailor. Thank you very much Aunt Missi.

As soon as that little cutie learned to talk, I taught her to call her mother a bitch. It sounded like ” Mommy oo a bish” but it made me laugh till my sides hurt, mostly at the smoke that poured out of my sisters ears.

Then, like the good mother she is, my sister taught her baby girl the proper names for all her body parts so she wouldn’t grow up calling her girlie bits a Suzy, like we did.

One day I was in the kitchen and my cute little Katie comes skipping in because she has something important to tell me.

“Guess what Aunt Missi?

“What baby girl?”

“I gots a gina?’

“A what?”

” A gina, Mommy told me, girls gots ginas boys gots peanuts.”

I was starting to get it, Kay had a vagina and boys have penis’s. I catch on quickly.

“Is that what she told you, Kay?”

“Yep, we all gots gina’s cause we’re girls, you, me, Mommy, even Grandma gots a gina.”

” Mommy’s lying to you Katie, you don’t have a vagina.”

“Do too, Mommy said.”

” Mommy is teaching you silly words and all the other kids will make fun of you, little girls have pussy’s and little boys have peckers.”

I can see the confusion in her eyes, Mommy doesn’t lie, but neither does Aunt Missi, what to do, what to do.

Kay left the kitchen and I didn’t really think about it anymore until later that afternoon when my sister is hiding behind the curtains frantically stage whispering to Kay to get off the balcony and come inside. I peek out the window, there she is, my beautiful Kay, naked as the day she was born, standing on the railing, singing ” I gotta a pussy” to all the neighbors walking by. I almost wet myself.

My torture of parents didn’t stop there. My best friends little boy was a nose picker and would wipe what he found everywhere, on the door, the wall, the couch, whatever was closest.

Poor Tree, she had tried everything, it was driving her nuts, so being the good aunt I am, I picked that chubby cheeked toddler up, looked him in the eye and said, ” Hey Jax, you can eat those.”

The wiping stopped being a problem. I thought that was very resourceful of me. Tree was not impressed.

I was reminded today of the therapy I may have inadvertently put in Jax’s future. When Mo and Jax were little, Tree and I found them “discovering” each other. We had the standard talk about our bodies, our own personal space, privacy, not touching each other in areas covered by our underpants, the usual. Such good Mom’s are we. I should tell you, I passed on the name Suzy for Mo’s girlie parts. So, since they were two the lecture mostly consisted of ” Don’t touch Jax’s penis, don’t touch Mo’s Suzy.”

About a week later Tree’s mother in law babysits Jax. Tree and her ex husband pick Jax up and on the ride home they are asking if he had fun with Grandma. After talking about cookies, and playing and TV, Jax starts saying, “I told them not to touch the Suzy Mommy, they wouldn’t they just keep petting the Suzy. I told them no Mommy!” By this time Jax is crying he is pretty upset and Tree and D have no idea what he is talking about.

When they get home Tree calls her mother in law to see what happened at Grandma’s house. Grandma tells Tree about Jax’ strange reaction to the neighbors new dog, Suzy, she couldn’t figure out why Jax was so upset, he usually loved dogs. Whoops.

As I sit here writing this post, I think the harm I’ve done to my child is starting to surface. She is heating up food in the microwave.

“Mom, where are those things I can cover my food up with?”

“What things?”

You know, the things in the drawer to cover up food?” She being highly descriptive.

I walk into the kitchen to see if she needs saran wrap as she pulls a green cloth napkin out of the drawer.

” I’ll just have to use this.”

“That’s what it’s for, it’s a napkin.” We do try to be environmentally friendly.

“Where are the yellow napkins?” Mo doesn’t take change well.

“The green and red ones are the Christmas napkins.”

“I want the yellow ones, I don’t like being confused in my drawers.”

She actually said that. Then I tweeted it and put it on Facebook. Nothing is sacred.

Speech Patterns 12/05/09

Have you ever listened to people talk, I mean really listen? We all have favorite words, the ones we use over and over again without even realizing it. Some people abuse this and have one or two words that have become almost a trademark for them because they say them so much.

I work with a guy who is an ass. He does something in IT so of course he thinks he is smarter than the rest of us. He also has a speech impediment. He cannot say the letter R, it comes out as W, just like little kids when they are first learning to talk.

His trademark work is “roughly”. He is hard enough to take seriously as it is but when every other word out of his mouth is roughly, it’s just about impossible not to laugh at him. Yes, I’m aware I’m going to hell.

We are having trouble with a new application at work so he is our point of contact. Joyce’s cubicle is directly across from mine so we can see each other all day long. She’s going to hell too.

So this guy, lets call him Dickhead, stops at my cubicle to let me know what’s going on. He stands in front of me so I can still see Joyce out of the corner of my eye.

” Cawol, just wanted to let you know we think we found the pwoblem. Woughly, theiw sewvew was bouncing us to sevewal diffewent places befowe we connected. So, woughly, now we awe connecting stwaight to theiw sewver. Woughly, I don’t think we will have any mowe pwoblems.”

Yes, he really says roughly that much. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Joyce pointing and laughing, trying to get my attention.

I have to fake a coughing fit because if I don’t laugh soon I’m gonna die. I throw whatever it was I had in my hand at Joyce because she is over there busting a gut.

“Woughly, let me know if thewe awe any mowe pwoblems.”

And he walks away. I look at Joyce and her entire face is beet red from trying not to laugh out loud.

Roughly, I”m sure he knew we were making fun of him.

How do you decorate? 12/04/09

Are you one of those people whose Christmas tree has a “theme”? Or, like me, do you throw everything on there but the kitchen sink?

I love ornaments. All kinds. I have pretty ones, sparkly one, one’s Mo made, one’s Mo’s friends made, ones my sisters, momma and friends have given me, my Mommy ornaments plus lots of balls to even things out.

My favorites are the two in this post. One is a baby’s first Christmas ornament that my mother bought Mo, it used to spin around, now it’s tired. It’s the first thing Mo looks for when we open the boxes. The second is Joe Montana, if you are going to name your daughter after the greatest quarterback that ever lived, he should have a place of honor on your tree. Joe does.

Oh, Mo just ran in to change for work and said, with a smile I might add, ” It smells like pine in here.”

“That my darling daughter, is why we have a real tree.”

“It’s still deformed.”

What does she know?

Christmas is coming 12/04/09

Anyone who knows me, knows that I am possessed by an elf at Christmas time. Everything must be decorated! The mantle! The tablecloth! The bathroom!

I put up three trees every year. Overkill? I think not! I love Christmas. When I was married to Steve he wasn’t all that happy about this Christmas demon possession, but he tolerated it. He hung the lights on the house every year. There was lots of bitching, but he never made me do it, something that I am now very grateful for.

Anyway, every year something new has to be added. This year it was LED icicle lights, I’m all about saving the environment through over consumption of things I don’t really need. I didn’t need the lights, I have 57 ( yes I counted them) perfectly good strands of lights, but, whatever. So while my darling Mo was at work I put up the icicle lights and turned them on so she could see them when she came home.

I was excited!

Me- Did you see the icicle lights?

Mo- They’re blue.

So much for excitement! But wait! There’s more! This year we got a real tree. My friend Joyce cut it down in the forest and drug it down the mountain for me. Again, I’m excited. Let’s decorate the tree!

I had forgotten, that unlike artificial trees, real trees are not meant to hold heavy ornaments. After about ten minutes of trying to get her ornaments to stay on the branches without dragging the floor, my darling daughter says ” Remind me again what’s so great about a real tree?”

I think she’s adopted.

This is interferring with my drinking....11/26/09

I saw a movie recently and a woman in the movie said she cut her hair because it was interfering with her drinking. I love that line and on Saturday when I was raking leaves and cleaning up dog shit in the yard I started thinking about drinking.

When am I going to drink now? A glass of wine with dinner? I dont’ freaking think so. Why you ask? Dinner is now a hot pocket in the car on the way to my second job.

I think it would be really hard to juggle a fresh out of the microwave hot pocket and a glass of wine. Plus, I think there is some pesky open container/drinking and driving law.

So let’s drink after work! Not gonna happen my friend, I’m lucky I can stay awake to drive home and kiss Mo goodnight.

Drink on the weekends! Well, since I am the new kid on the block I work Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Somehow I think if I had a few drinks and went to work it would be a problem, and working would kind of kill that wonderful wine buzz.

What to do, what to do? I guess I will just have to live vicariously through everyone else’s drinking. So have one for me, or two, maybe five, trust me, I need it!

Computer Based Learning 11/26/09

I haven’t had much time to blog because I got a second job. The house needs a new roof so until I can pay for it I will be working and sleeping.

My new job is one of those mindless ones that will allow me to make extra money without taxing my brain.

A few nights ago I had to do computer modules to learn how to operate a register. Better known as Register Training for Idiots. I actually wrote this post while taking the online course.

Not only does the module walk you through it twice while you sit with bated breath watching the computer monitor for the next exciting step, it also has you do it twice with plenty of computer instruction and then you take a quiz.

By the time the quiz came up I wanted to gouge my eyes out and my brain had turned to mush from all the training on how to scan items. Seriously, is it that hard?

I decided to purposely fail the quiz. I did everything I could to get a wrong answer, but oh no, that was not going to happen. What I discovered is no matter how hard you try, you can’t fail. The nice lady who lives in the computer will patiently explain to you over and over and OVER, exactly what you need to do to correctly to pass this quiz.

This explains why the lines everywhere are so long and so slow, they need to have that woman living inside of every register to keep cashiers on the straight and narrow.

So, I tried to fail and failed at failing. Should I feel bad about that?

Oh to be young again 11/17/09

What happened to growing old gracefully? What happened to being proud of the life you have lived? Have we always been such a youth obsessed culture and I just never noticed?

I don’t watch much TV but this weekend I decided to be lazy and stay home in my pajamas all weekend while my daughter worked so I watched a lot of TV.

That Pantene commercial scares the hell out of me! What is wrong with that woman’s face? She scares me, every time the commercial comes on I have to look away.

Just like everyone else, I don’t want to be any more wrinkled than I have to be, so I use lots of wrinkle creams, moisturizer, get chemical peels and I even went to get Botox. I just want to tell you that the people who give you botox are scarier than the witch in Hansel and Gretel.

I went to a salon that offered discounted botox shots. Okay, my first clue that this was not a good idea should have been the “discount” Anyway, I went, a lady at work, her daughter worked at the salon and told her about the discounts and the “doctor” who was going to be giving the shots.

So I went, all excited to suddenly be younger than my 30 years ( shut up, my story). I took Mo, because they had discounted massages as well and she took full advantage of that special.

Anyway, my coworker and I were treated to a lovely facial by a very nice woman and bought tons of over priced snake oil to save our youth.

Then, the moment we had been waiting for! The “doctor” was in! I use that term loosely, just because you are wearing scrubs does not mean you are a doctor.

First this lovely gay man, and I want you to know, I’m very gay friendly, I’ve been called a fag hag more than once in my life so I am not bashing his sexuality. Some of the people I love best are gay. Any way, this very lovely gay man, with a horribly snooty attitude, started telling me what was wrong with my face.

Now coming from a long line of women who are more than happy to bash ourselves, I interrupted him when he was going on and on about my forehead lines and told him only the lines around my mouth and eyes really bothered me.

This lovely man with the perfectly smooth face looked down his nose at me and said, ” Well, Sweetie maybe once we get rid of those other lines you will start paying attention to these gouges on your forehead.”

Ok, enough, you little butt slammer, I don’t know why you worry about your forehead wrinkles, he only sees you from behind anyway. I didn’t say that out loud but I was thinking it pretty hard. I wanted to kick his little gay ass up around his shoulders.

Then over comes Elvira to examine my face, she was the one who actually administered the shots, because as we found out, Flamer is not a real doctor, he doesn’t even play one on TV.

Elvira, not her real name, but I want you to get a sense of this woman, is scary. She is only about 35 and is pointing out to me how young botox keeps her.

If that is young, please God make me old right now! She is a chubby lady but her skin is pulled so tight over the bones in her face that she looks plastic. And she has no expression, her mouth barely moves when she speaks.

Her eyebrows are part of her hairline as she explains all the wonders that await me in my quest to stay young. Laser peels! Derma fillers! Mini face lifts! ” And look how young Dana looks, she is 28 but has been getting botox since she was twenty-five, preventative maintenance you know, always a good idea, but never too late to start!”

Dana has two huge red tumors slowly growing between her eyebrows. The more I stare at them, the larger and redder they get. There is also one growing on each side of her nose and several on her forehead.

”This reaction is unusual, ” Elvira explains, ” Dana is very sensitive and always has this reaction, but it goes a way in a day or two, doesn’t it honey?”

The lovely Dana with the Klingon face explains that it is a temporary reaction and “totally worth it”

I tell Elvira I left my wallet in my other pants and, darnit, I’ll just have to come back another day, and then I run from the salon, lock myself in the car and text Mo. No way am I going back in there.

I will just have to keep trying every new wrinkle cream that Oil of Olay sells and be thankful that the older we get, the worse our vision gets. So, in the right light, at just the right distance, I’m a freaking knock out!

A Momentous Day 11/14/09

This is a week of firsts for my baby girl. Mo recently started working and yesterday she received her first paycheck. Now all she wants to do is work!

Today we went and opened her very first checking account, she was so excited. Watching her sit there, dressed for work, looking so beautiful, trying to hide how excited she was, reminded me of other firsts.

These firsts, as wonderful as they are, just show us how quickly our babies grow up and away. Did I pay enough attention? Did I pay too much attention? There is such a fine line between celebrating their accomplishments and gushing too much.

I remember when Mo started talking, she always had her cousins around, Kay and Kyle, and they were older so when she started talking it was not with a baby’s vocabulary, thanks to Kay, Mo talked well, early and in complete sentences. I remember her day care mom telling me when she was just over a year that she talked like a five year old. I don’t think we paid enough attention because she did it so well.

I remember the first time she could shop in 5,7,9, which was, at the time, her dream because that’s where Kay shopped, she was so excited but tried to hide it and act like she had been shopping there forever.

I’m so happy for her but at the same time I’m sad that my baby is no longer a baby. In a little over a year and a half she will legally be an adult. It went too quickly.

Today, for the first time, Mo bought her own underwear, at Victoria’s Secret. Another first that we owe to Kay. When Mo got her first period Kay took her out for a girls day and bought her very first pair of Victoria Secret underwear, now Walmart is not good enough. I guess only Moms buy their underwear at Walmart.

Mother Daughter date night 11/13/09

Now that Mo is working our time together is pretty limited so I’m trying to actually do something when we are together. Tonight, it’s a movie. It was one of the perfect Mommy/daughter dates. Everything made us giggle, it made other people smile to see us enjoying each other’s company.

We decided to go see a Christmas Carol in Imax 3D, but first, we have to stop at Smith’s to get candy and drinks.Who still pays $5 for a fun sized box of Junior Mints at the movies? I always get a diet drink and JuJu fish, they are my favorite- twice the ju in every bite. A joke from when Mo and I were carpenters at Vacation Bible School.

We get to the theater ten minutes late, since it’s Imax you can’t go in late so we decide to see Zombieland instead. Settled in the last row at the theatre, both of us giggling and texting before the movie starts. Mo makes me laugh as I’m pulling drinks and candy out of the Mary Poppins bag. I’m not paying attention as I twist the top off my drink. Suddenly my crotch is very wet. My drink got shaken up in my bag and when I opened it, it overflowed, right into my lap.

Of course I had to put it on my Facebook and my Twitter feed. Why is that things that used to embarrass us we feel the need to share with the world via social networking? I have to say, I didn’t feel quite so bad after everyone laughed at me online, maybe it’s because if you go public people will laugh out loud at you, where if you try to hide it people just whisper behind their hands.

Either way, I looked like I wet my pants and I had the best time. Mo and I laughed louder than anyone in the theater, that kid of mine has the cutest giggle! The movie was dumb, appeals to a certain demographic apparently because all of Mo’s friends think it’s awesome.

Home after the movie, I’m letting the dogs out, Mo has gone to look for the USB cord for my phone so she can download music onto her phone. My baby girl walks in the room and says “ Next time you tell me to look for something in your closet, make sure it’s not where your sex stuff is.”

“ It’s not the… I mean, what sex stuff?” Innocent I tell you!

She stalks off. Oh well, I know one day I’m going to have to pay for her therapy anyway, it’s always the mother’s fault you know, might as well give her something to talk about.

Fashion Victim 11/11/09

Second date with the man I met online. He is nice but I just want to say one thing- Velcro shoes. That’s right, the kind you bought for your child before they learned to tie their shoes. Do they really sell those shoes for grown men? I asked Joyce, she said “Yes, at Kmart.”

Ok, now we have two things, he eats his pizza with a fork, that’s not really a problem, I just worry about how much of a slob I look like when I’m wolfing down my pizza. I could get past that, but the shoes?

I can’t ever take him anywhere. My sisters, loving, supportive women that they are, would never let me forget this. “Remember that guy you brought over here, the one with the freaking Velcro on his shoes?” And then they would laugh hysterically, FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE!

I guess I didn’t notice this on our first date because we both changed into bowling shoes as soon as we got there, not much time for footwear evaluation. This time, I saw them. Several times, each time I was shocked.

I discussed this with Joyce. Why is it that something like this cancels out all the good things about someone? Yes, he is nice, attentive, calls when he says he will, texts just to say hi, wants to spend time with me, is stable, has a good job, his kids are grown. Why oh why can’t he wear real men’s shoes?

Can I stick this out until I know him well enough to guide him to a suitable pair of shoes for a grown man? Will I have to tell all my friends prior to meeting him, “ Look, the shoes are a problem, I’m working on it, try not to stare.”

This is why I don’t like to date. The world is full of really nice people with really horrible fashion sense and they all want to date me.

Lots of really cool people wear velcro shoes right? High school gym teachers, people in old folks homes, I mean the list is endless.

And on the tails of this- how do I tell a man I don’t want to see him anymore because his shoes embarrass me? Beat you wish you had such pressing problems, stop laughing, it’s not that funny.

Oh Christmas Tree, oh Christmas Tree 11/09/09

A live Christmas tree. I’ve pretty much forgotten what it’s like to have a real tree, but this year I’m going to remember. Since living in Utah we have had a real tree only a handful of times. I stomped my foot and refused to allow an artificial tree in my house.

Utah is the desert, let’s not forget that. So after they cut these trees down from Christmas tree farms in Oregon or somewhere and truck them into Utah, and you buy them at the lot they are already several weeks dead. So you bring home your lovely tree, which is shedding like a very large, wet dog. There is a trail of pine needles from the lot to your front door, and then even more pine needles imbedded in the carpet in the house, you have to empty the vacuum bag three times, and that’s just getting the damn tree in the stand.

After it’s up and decorated it’s a constant battle to keep the needles vacuumed up, which by the way, is not the best thing in the world for your vacuum, so that $50 tree may wind up costing you a $200 vacuum. Oh, and you can’t turn the lights on after the first week because the tree is so dead that you are afraid a static electricity spark from the carpet is going to make the tree go up in flames.

Christmas morning you turn on the lights just long enough to get a picture of the kid opening presents, all the while watching for any smoke to come from the tree. By the time you take it out of the house on New Year’s day, it is just a trunk with sticks, there is not a pine needle left on it. After a few years of this I surrender to the artificial tree.

I’ve even adapted, my philosophy is if I can’t have a real tree, I can have lots of trees. So I do. There is the main one in the front room, that one has all of our special ornaments, Mo’s baby stuff, one’s she’s made, ones my sisters and friends have given to me. Then I have two in the family room, one on each side of the fireplace. They are tall and skinny, those are whatever I decide I want them to be, last year they were all red and white, still haven’t’ decided what I want them to be this year. Then I have miscellaneous little one to two feet tall artificial ones around the house. What I lack in natural pine smell I make up for in sheer volume!

This year is going to be different. Joyce invited me to go with her to get a permit to cut down a fresh tree. I was very excited. We made a plan, be at Joyce’s house by 5am and head to Soldier’s Hollow. You have to get their early to get a wrist band. A wrist band? This is starting to sound like a rock concert. They only give out 1,000 permits so you have to be there early or you miss out. So we stopped at 7-11 for coffee and made the drive. The line was pretty long when we got there but we got wrist bands and waited for two hours for the doors to open up.

It was fun and crazy. There was a guy sleeping in a sleeping bag in the middle of the sidewalk, someone spilled chocolate milk on him. Someone had a fire going, someone else was heating soup on one of those little one burner propane stoves, these people were prepared. Joyce and I looked like lesbian lumberjacks, complete with Joyce’s army coat.

Now all we have to do is go back and cut down a tree. I think I’m going to need more ornaments, and a place to put the tree that is usually in the front room. Maybe Mo can sleep on the couch for the month of December and we can put a tree in her room.

Crazy Fun 11/06/2009

I met another man online, you have no idea how much fun online dating is, but I’m going to tell you. First of all, if you think a bar is a meat market, try meeting men online. Either they are married, just looking for sex, or so weird that online is the only way they can meet people. Still, I keep trying, I’m certain my Prince Charming is out there somewhere, I just have to keep looking for him.

Anyway, I met Jeff online. We talked a bit then decided to go bowling. I kicked his butt! I’m sure that little dance I did when I won was not all that lady like, but he asked me out again anyway. He eats his pizza with a fork? Not sure about that.

See why I have trouble meeting people? Every little thing they do, makes me crazy. Of course that is only true if they are nice guys, if they are bad boys they can pretty much do anything short of running my dog over with their car and I will forgive them. Well, depending on how bad the dog was hurt I might still forgive them.

Our second date is tonight so today we are texting, the usual, good morning, how is your day, yadda, yadda yadda. I tell him I’m really looking forward to tonight, I love hockey.

Jeff- Me too, I just hope I can keep you from jumping over the glass and kicking someone’s butt.

Me- I’ll be good

Jeff- Now I’m really worried.

Me- You should be

Jeff- Do I need to bring rope or duct tape

Me- It’s only a second date, save that for later.

It took him several minutes to respond, he was speechless. I started laughing and told Joyce about our conversation.

Joyce- Carol, that’s how you get stalkers, it’s the “sexual connotations” (yes, she actually did the little air quotes on that one) They know you are crazy and fun and they want to be part of that. They all wanna be with you, that’s why they stalk you.

Ok, I have had a stalker or two, they were perfectly nice guys who suffocated me. Showed up at work, wanted to take me to dinner every night, wanted to buy my clothes, fix my house, wash my car. I say, GET A FREAKING LIFE!

So, what’s a girl to do? Do I hide my personality? Hide my light under a bushel? Or just be my crazy, happy self. After all, it’s my world, and they are just living in it!