Tuesday, July 27, 2010

My little visitor

Today after my gentleman caller, pimp, stud- still haven't figured that one out- ok, my boyfriend, and I had dinner and he was leaving, a lovely little hummingbird met us at the door. He would fly away when we opened the storm door and fly back when we closed it.
I googled hummingbirds, did you know they don't flap their wings they actually move in a figure eight, or the eternity symbol. Hummingbirds are said to symbolize joy, love and beauty.
Is there anything more beautiful than a hummingbird stopping to say hello?

Sunday, July 25, 2010

You say Nevada, I say Nevauda

It’s all semantics baby! Sometimes people make fun of me because they don’t pronounce things correctly. It’s ok, I understand the need to point and laugh, I do it myself all the time, just usually when their backs are turned. This is not about proper pronunciation, I’ll still be your friend if you say things like Nevada and raydiator, this post is about what to call the people in our lives.

I think I mentioned a while ago that I met someone. I’ve been hesitant to mention him in my blog because I don’t know what to call him. Yes, I know his name, geez people, give me some credit. I mean what to call him in reference to me.

I always stumble on this part, hesitate a little when it is time to introduce him.

“ This is my boyfriend,***” which always makes me want to say – “ And right after school we are gonna go park behind the church and make out.” I haven’t come up with a blog name for him yet, that’s why the stars are there.

I don’t want to introduce him as my friend, I think we are past that now and I don’t want to imply that he means less to me than he does. Things like this are always bouncing in my head and I’ve discovered that this problem doesn’t really go away unless you get engaged. So here I am, over 40 and trying to figure out a way to introduce the man beside me.

“This is my Sweetie” well he may be, but is that how you introduce people to your boss?

“This is my lover” my Aunt Dorothy just dropped dead of a heart attack.

“This is my life partner” of course that one is for after you move in together but it makes you sound like a gay couple. Not that there is anything wrong with gay couples I’m just not part of one.

“This is my POSC” person of opposite sex cohabiting- sounds like they should have just gotten a dog.

I tried google, there really aren’t any synonyms for boyfriend so I guess until we come up with something better I’ll call him my boyfriend and hope we don’t get caught making out in the car.

Friday, July 23, 2010

The people who read mail........


Probably knows something I don’t!


For whatever reason I seem to be missing the checking and reading mail gene.

First, I get so little mail. Everything is electronic, all my bills are happily delivered to my inbox, and when is the last time you received an actual letter in the mail? I only check the mail about every two weeks, that’s how Mo missed the appointment for her senior pictures. What were they thinking mailing the notices out just a week in advance?

My mailbox is not at the end of my driveway, no, our subdivision has what a friend of mine so colorfully called “ghetto mailboxes.” If you are not familiar it is like the mailboxes in an apartment building, only outside and all grouped together. This is only about 50 yards or so from my front door, I’m not lazy, just forgetful.

I really need to start checking and reading the mail. Once the mail is in the house I sort it- recycling or filing. Very rarely do I open my mail. The statement I get every month from the mortgage company gets filed, unopened, in a folder for next years taxes, the rest of it is garbage so into the recycling bin it goes.

This, apparently, can be a problem. I get a call from my mortgage company, one of those lovely automated things asking me to please call them. Thinking they are trying to sell me something, I ignore it, but I do mention it later to my boyfriend. He says “ Your payment hasn’t been made, that’s the only reason they call.”

I know this is not possible because I am super organized and my mortgage payment gets sent from my bank on the 28th of every month to make sure it is there on the 1st. I’m kind of anal like that. Obviously , someone has made a mistake, payment made, cleared my bank, this is their problem, not mine.

The next day I call my friendly little mortgage company, which I have to tell you, is not very friendly. First I spend a half an hour trying to convince their automated system that I really do want to talk to a live person. I’m dumbfounded when every time I say I want to speak with a representative the little automated lady says-

“ There is usually a wait, I’ll be able to help you much faster, please choose from the following options.”

We did this five or six times before the automated teller had enough of me, sighed loudly and said,

“ Fine lady, if you to make us pay someone in India to answer your call so you can whine about your petty problems, I’ll transfer you, but when those mysterious fees start appearing, remember, you insisted on talking to a live person.”

Ok, so she really didn’t say that, but I know that’s what she was thinking. Anyway, a very nice lady from India named Megan, came on the line and happily explained to me that I didn’t pay all of my mortgage payment so there was a balance due for July.

What? Apparently, if I had read my mail, I would have known that my escrow was adjusted which caused my house payment to go up, but since I don’t read my mail, I missed that.

Megan was kind enough to waive the late fee since I’ve always paid on time and been a “wery” good customer. I thanked Megan and decided I need to turn over a new leaf, get to know my mail, maybe even start opening it.

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Awesome Randomness

Some days I have so much to say but unfortunately it doesn’t come together in any cohesive way. These are very important thoughts I have and I know that you are all dying for me to share them with you so whenever I gather enough randomness I will put it in a blog. Remember, this is just some of the useless stuff floating through my head, there is no way I could capture it all, it would take all day. Now if you are talking to me and my eyes are glazed over you will know that it’s not that I’m not listening it’s just that a squirrel with a top hat just ran through my head.

My life is really, really wonderful, still I can’t help but wonder, would I have been happier as a rodeo clown?

Why is it that everything tastes better when someone else cooks it? I realize that part of the problem may be that I don’t cook, but other than that why is other peoples food better? This also extends to what someone else orders for dinner that I didn’t and now I’m second guessing my decision.

I am super organized. I make lists and write notes to myself so I don’t forget anything I need to do. There is just one problem. I don’t know shorthand but apparently I think I am smart enough to remember what I meant when I left the following post its for myself:






Ok that one is self explanatory, but why did I write I NEED pens?






I know it’s July but does the air conditioning at work have any setting other than frigid?

That’s why there is a heater under my desk and a fan on it. When the hot flashes start the fan goes under my skirt, when they stop I turn the heat on.

At this rate I’ll never get married again, how could I explain to my husband why the air conditioning is on in December.

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

Is that my shadow?

This week’s confession is that I’m a little afraid of everything. Now I know most people have fears but I really am a little afraid of everything, I try not to be but I am usually unsuccessful.

The list of things I’m afraid of is long and varied and for the most part, irrational, I know this, you don’t have to point it out, but I’m still a little afraid.

Take my jetted tub. How can you be afraid of a tub? Well let me tell you!

When I was looking for a house to buy I thought it would be lovely to have a jetted tub, I am fond of my bubble baths. When I found the house that Mo and I both thought was perfect AND it had a jetted tub I knew it was destiny.

I moved in, got everything settled, pictures hung on the wall, cabinets stocked. It finally was starting to feel like home. Mo went to her father’s for the weekend so it seemed a perfect time to enjoy my tub. After all that moving I was looking forward to relaxing in my beautiful tub.

I gathered all the needed supplies- bubble bath, a soft robe, a fluffy towel, a hair clip, a radio, a glass of wine and lots and lots of candles.

I was so excited. I danced around the bathroom, singing along to the radio, turned on the water, poured the bubble bath, lit the candles, grabbed my wine and climbed in the tub.

Now the first thing you need to know, it takes an eternity to fill that tub with water. I sat there for about 30 seconds, I have issues with sitting still so after 30 seconds I jumped out, ran upstairs and got the bottle of wine since it looked like I was going to be there for a while.

Back in the tub feeling kind of silly. I’m naked, sitting in a half an inch of water, in the dark, singing “ Harper Valley PTA”

Finally the tub is full enough to turn on the jets. Hallelujah! Before I turn on the jets I want to remind you of two things- I am completely alone in the house and my jetted tub- it’s in the basement. Why anyone would put a jetted tub in the basement when the bedrooms are on the second floor is beyond me, but there you have it.

I push the button to turn on the jets. For a split second I am afraid of being electrocuted- after all it takes electricity to run the jets and I’m sitting in a tub full of water- pretty sure I’m gonna die because as I’ve said- I’m a little afraid of everything.

Then I forget all about being electrocuted because I realize with the jets running I can hear absolutely nothing! This is not good. Was that someone walking upstairs? I turn the jets off. I don’t hear anything so I sneak out of the tub and lock the bathroom door.

I settle back in the tub with my wine and turn on the jets. Did I just hear the front door close? Turn the jets off. I’m starting to realize that if a serial killer broke into the house I wouldn’t even know it until he was in the bathroom with me, then it would be too late. No noise, turn the jets on. What was that bang? Turn the jets off. After about ten minutes of this I drain the water, blow out the candles and turn on the light. I am not going to sit in the tub waiting for a serial killer to come and get me.

I know it’s irrational, I mean, how does a serial killer know I’m in the basement in the jetted tub? I have no idea, I’m not a serial killer so I don’t get the newsletter, but I’m not taking any chances.

Like I said, I’m a little afraid of everything.

Monday, July 19, 2010

Mo's moment of awakening

Friday I picked Mo up from her friends how, she had spent the night Thursday night. This girl has been her best friend since kindergarten. Anyway, I pick Mo up and she tells me her kidneys hurt.

What? Your kidneys hurt? ( I'm always surprised she realizes she has inside body parts, but that's another story) She says they've been hurting, shows me where and tells me Crissy said it's a kidney infection. I was unaware that her friend had recently been to medical school but decided to let that slide.

So I tell her to drink lots of water over the weekend, don't take any ibuprofen and ask if it hurts to pee. She says no, I tell her we'll wait it out.

This morning it was hurting pretty bad so I call the doctor and make an appointment. I take Mo to the pediatrician, she is only 17 after all, she tells me she doesn't need me to go back with her.

I go outside to pace while my child gets her kidneys looked at thinking that it sucks that I am allowed to pay for the doctor visit but she gets to decide if I get to talk to the doctor. Who taught her to think for herself?

After a while she calls me and tells me she's done. I ask what's wrong, she says, I'll tell you in the car. Now lots of things are going through my head, after all, kidneys are not supposed to hurt.

I get to the car where Mo informs me she is an idiot. Again, I'm gonna let that slide. The doctor checked her urine, it was clean, did some poking and prodding, decided it wasn't Mo's kidneys, it was lower back pain.

Apparently I just paid the doctor a $25 co pay to tell my kid what I've been telling her for years- sleeping on the couch every night will make your back hurt. But hey, I'm just her mom, what do I know?

Sadie update

Remember Sadie? My wonderful little rescue puppy? Well, she is growing like a weed, she weighs over 30 pounds now, and hyper as I don't know what! After the first of August we are starting puppy kindergarten, she really needs to learn to listen. In the meantime, here are some cute pics of her playing in her pool. And one of Clemetine so she doesn't get jealous!





Sunday, July 18, 2010

What's love got to do with it?

Falling in love. Such a nice sentiment. Makes me think of sunshine, rainbows, flowers, puppies, all things warm and fuzzy. Sadly, the reality it quite different.
I remember when I was a teenager. When falling in love was a weekly thing. Seems every week there was someone more wonderful than last week, someone I couldn’t live without. I wrote my name with his, imaged our children, where we would live, what our life would be like, then, the following week, do it all over again with someone new. Now I get to watch my teenager do the same thing. She loves him, she loves him not.
This is not about my teenager. This is about me and what the reality of life and love is for the bubble bath queen. I do not fall in love easily. As a matter of fact I tend to push people away. Imagine that. Trina says I do a little dance, “ Come closer, I want to know you better.” Then as soon as they do I run away, or I poke them with a stick. I’m really good at poking with a stick. It’s a self preservation thing. I’m going to poke you with a stick so you won’t stay around long enough for me to care and you to hurt me.
I’m trying really hard to not poke people with sticks, but I’m scared. This mid life love story is foreign to me. I don’t understand it and I’m not sure it exists. I’m afraid that there is always too much drama and baggage for a new relationship to grow and develop into something wonderful.
Even the conversations are different. How many times have you been married? No one asked me that when I was a teenager, they ask it now and I ask it back. What do all these failed marriages between us mean? It can’t all be the other persons fault so what is wrong with me? How do I fix what is wrong and does anyone have the patience to help me through the stick poking times?
I’ve met someone and I think he is pretty wonderful, but it’s still too early to know where, if anywhere, this might lead. It’s kind of funny how different relationships get as you get older. The questions are different, the expectations are different. We don’t talk about having children, we have children, we don’t talk about buying houses, we have houses. Instead we talk about things like, your house or mine?
I’m sure when I started writing this I had a point but somewhere along the way I lost it. All I know is that I’m confused, more confused than when I had to choose between Johnny Perry and David Arbogast in the third grade. The stakes are much higher this time and with all my heart I want to get it right.

Saturday, July 10, 2010

Directionally Challenged

I don't know my left from my right, so there! Why do we have a left and right, why can't we just point and say "That way", it would help me tremendously.

I've had this problem all my life and I've tried to cure it, sometimes using extreme measures like gettting married so I would have a ring on my left hand. Nothing worked.

A few weeks ago Mo and I were driving downtown, it was hot, I was thirsty and starting to get a little grumpy. We had driven past approximately twenty Mormon churches in our fifteen minute car ride but I could not find a stinking McDonalds so I could get a drink.

Mo comes to my rescue. I never drive downtown, first I'm not a good driver, second the streets are dumb, third the people on those streets are all insane, and I'm not a good driver- I know I said that twice but that's how important it is.

My darling daughter tells me she knows where a McDonalds is, just go left at the light Mom. Since we about 100 feet from the light I veer across two lanes of traffic to make my left. A weird screeching sound starts coming from Mo's side of the car.

"Where are you going?"

"McDonalds"

"I said left, Mom, left"

" I know, I went left."

" No, you didn't you went right. You always do this."

" I do not ALWAYS do this, and don't start with me, I want a drink, I'm dying of thirst."

So I make a U turn in the middle of State Street, which she reminds me is against the law- why did I teach her to talk- and go to McDonalds to get a Coke.

On Friday, Joyce went to pick up lunch, she called me because her Jeep wouldn't start. I drove over to help her. I'm not much help but we did manage to push the Jeep around the corner onto a side street where it would be easier to get it started and some men stopped to help us. Their jumper cables were electrical taped together, when that didn't work they went into the sandwich shop to get their lunch.

Another man came to our rescue and he and his friend were going to push the Jeep out of the street and into a little parking lot for us, they told me to get in and steer. Piece of cake.

As they are pushing the Jeep I asked them where they wanted me to park it. After a little discussion between the two men they decide on the left would be good, so I turn left.

"Your other left." Now I'm confused. I actually put my foot on the brake while they were pushing the Jeep so I could figure out exactly where my left is.

Mo is right, I do it all the time.

Friday, July 9, 2010

I did not have sex with that man!



Apparently while at Country Jam I slept with the President. Not sex, actual sleeping, as seen above. My friends have not yet forgiven me for voting for Obama and then doing a happy dance when he was elected so they decided some paybacks were in order.

My best friend and her husband ( our husband but that's a different story) were in Texas when they found a little sex/novelty store and wonder of wonders, it had a blow up, anatomically correct Obama doll. They needed no encouragement, they bought it and saved it until the time was right.

But first I have to tell you about the rest of Country Jam, I didn't sleep with the president until the last night. Trina and I were like little kids at Christmas, we wanted to go, go, go, right now! Are we there yet? Are we there yet? How much longer? The fact that Clay didn't kill us or dump us off on the side of the road says amazing things about that man's patience.

We get to Colorado, head to the liquor store and spend our children's inheritance on booze, sorry kids, then we went to the campground. Sandy and Matt rented a trailer so we were setting up when in pulls our neighbor- in his UHaul! Freaking hilarious! We camped next to some early 20 something boys and they were a blast! They camped in a Uhaul and were so much fun it was like watching comedy central- you might be a redneck.




They tied a big pole to one of their trucks so they could string the tarp across. You can see the pole tied to the truck in the picture. When the wind grabbed the tarp and whipped it off the pole, they had another solution.



They were a riot and we hope we run into them next year.




I had the time of my life, I lost my voice screaming at Trace Adkins, that man is incredibly fine, I'm his next wife but don't tell him and ruin the surprise! So no talking for me for two or three days. I also apparently climbed one of the boys camping next to us like a spider monkey and the drunk kid dropped me on my head. Trina and Clay said I have to wear a helmet next year!

The last night we were there I was alcoholed out, if you can believe that. So I went to bed, that's when they broke out Obama and put him in bed with me. Here are some of the tamer pics. It's amazing how many people had their mouths on this blow up doll!



We are already scoping out campsites for next year, after all, a girl can never have too many beads!

Forgive me bloggers for I have sinned

It's been elevently million days since my last post. What was I thinking? Ok, lots and lots going on. My darling Mo in the space of a week lost her mind and turned 17. Here is her cake, her mind is still missing but we are not going to talk about that because I'm still embarrassed about what it says about my parenting skills.




All in all her birthday was a wonderful day. We had her party the day before since her birthday fell on Father's Day, and of course, we had the traditional cake fight. Not quite sure how the ex's new girlfriend felt about that but my motto is " I was here first"

Then there was Country Jam and trust me, as soon as I'm done this post I'm writing that one. The things people will do with a blow up doll when they are drunk.

Oh, and I met someone, not sure what I want to say about that but I'm having the time of my life. More to come!