Rainy days and Tuesdays when I am sick, I mean. And rainy days and Tuesdays when I get sad, scary news. Rainy days and Tuesdays when I melt lipstick in an entire load of light-colored laundry. Rainy days and Tuesdays when I can't get the thingie to screw onto the thingie. Rainy days and Tuesdays when I'm sick, and I know that I am supposed to be with the girls all this weekend. Rainy days and Tuesdays when I have a F-U-L-L day tomorrow, and no time to be sick.
Then again - my "illness" is really not so bad when you look at the big picture. Not in comparison to someone who is fighting for her life - again. Not in comparison to her family who is scared with her and scared for her. Not in comparison to her kids who love and need her. I guess my stupid cold is really just that - stupid.
And I can always buy new clothes and lipstick. And life does not come to a standstill because I can't get a screw to work. And there will be other girl's weekends if I can't make this one. No matter how full tomorrow is, I can probably manage it. Especially since there's nothing on my to-do list like "chemo therapy" or "stem cell transplant."
Please everyone...or all 6 of you who read this. Keep WonderSis in your thoughts and prayers. And then take a look at your crappy day, and realize just how much crappier it could really be.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
No Kids At Home - Day #2
Although I am doing a great job of filling almost all of my time with PTA stuff, not having kids around still takes some getting used to. Especially not having Chase - he's a real chatterbox, and it's weird not hearing him for more than 6 1/2 hours.
In my errand running today, I was having the following random thoughts:
* How sad is it that when I finally have 6 1/2 hours to myself, all I do is call people on my cell phone because I don't have anyone to talk to?
* Cool! Did you know they still sell "Whatchamacallit" candy bars?
* Lady: when your kids are screaming bloody murder for a half an hour and totally ruining the shopping experience for everyone else, DON'T BUY THEM STICKERS AT THE CHECKOUT!!!
* It's amazing to me how doing something that you are really good at makes you feel better about yourself.
* I did not go anywhere near the Coach store today.
* Sometimes it's really easy to open your mouth and eat your foot, even on Facebook.
* Is there some stupid reason why they can't launch the Space Shuttle at a normal hour?
* I will cheerfully beat the child that is teasing my baby on the bus.
* What's worse: getting a tatoo and then losing weight so it looks all wrinkly, or getting a tatoo and gaining weight so it looks all stretched out?
* Did you ever get the weird feeling that your old car is about to go? It's running fine, but something really subtle in the way it runs tells you that it's tired, and it's just about had enough. 111,000 miles in 8 years is a long way to go.
* I saw a TV show last night where a realtor said "all buyers want double ovens." Total bullshit. I don't want double ovens. I don't even want one oven. What I want is a phone for takeout, and paper plates.
* You ever seen that commercial where the guy finds a door in an alley, and he brings it home a sand it and paints it up real pretty? His lady friend (wife, girlfriend - who knows) walks in and says "what's this?" He says "It's a promise - that one day we'll have our own place." Bart says: "Obviously he's unemployed if he's hanging around alleys and has the time to refurbish a door in a day. Maybe they'd actually have a house if he spent that time getting a job." Then he said to me: "Do you want a door?" And I said "What's behind it - a trip to Mexico?"
* Actual conversation last night...part of Karlin's homework was to answer some questions about herself for her new teacher. One of them was "What do other people like best about you?" This really stumped her, so she came downstairs to discuss it with us. I said "I would think the thing people like most about me is how helpful I am." Karlin said "Daddy, what do you like best about Mommy?" He said "I'm sorry - I can't tell you that. It's a secret." So she turned to me and said "Mommy - what do you like best about Daddy?" Without hesitation I said "Easy - his wallett!" (which cracked him up, by the way...) It should be noted here that I did tell Karlin I was only kidding, and then gave her a legitimate answer to the question. I'm not totally irresponsible, you know.
* Some Florida State fan actually attempted to raz me about Tim Tebow & the Gators losing to Ole Miss by a point last season. Can you believe that crap? Did Florida State even play last season? Aren't they on some sort of suspension? Does the coach even know his own name anymore?
* This weekend is my 11th wedding anniversary. My husband got us a new washing machine, and then posted on Facebook "Happy Anniversary, baby - thanks for 11 years of laundry." Funny guy, eh?
* Soon I'm going to start writing down all the funny-ass stuff Chase says. He makes me laugh out loud at least once a day, but whenever I try to tell someone about what he said, I can never remember.
Later Gators! ;)
In my errand running today, I was having the following random thoughts:
* How sad is it that when I finally have 6 1/2 hours to myself, all I do is call people on my cell phone because I don't have anyone to talk to?
* Cool! Did you know they still sell "Whatchamacallit" candy bars?
* Lady: when your kids are screaming bloody murder for a half an hour and totally ruining the shopping experience for everyone else, DON'T BUY THEM STICKERS AT THE CHECKOUT!!!
* It's amazing to me how doing something that you are really good at makes you feel better about yourself.
* I did not go anywhere near the Coach store today.
* Sometimes it's really easy to open your mouth and eat your foot, even on Facebook.
* Is there some stupid reason why they can't launch the Space Shuttle at a normal hour?
* I will cheerfully beat the child that is teasing my baby on the bus.
* What's worse: getting a tatoo and then losing weight so it looks all wrinkly, or getting a tatoo and gaining weight so it looks all stretched out?
* Did you ever get the weird feeling that your old car is about to go? It's running fine, but something really subtle in the way it runs tells you that it's tired, and it's just about had enough. 111,000 miles in 8 years is a long way to go.
* I saw a TV show last night where a realtor said "all buyers want double ovens." Total bullshit. I don't want double ovens. I don't even want one oven. What I want is a phone for takeout, and paper plates.
* You ever seen that commercial where the guy finds a door in an alley, and he brings it home a sand it and paints it up real pretty? His lady friend (wife, girlfriend - who knows) walks in and says "what's this?" He says "It's a promise - that one day we'll have our own place." Bart says: "Obviously he's unemployed if he's hanging around alleys and has the time to refurbish a door in a day. Maybe they'd actually have a house if he spent that time getting a job." Then he said to me: "Do you want a door?" And I said "What's behind it - a trip to Mexico?"
* Actual conversation last night...part of Karlin's homework was to answer some questions about herself for her new teacher. One of them was "What do other people like best about you?" This really stumped her, so she came downstairs to discuss it with us. I said "I would think the thing people like most about me is how helpful I am." Karlin said "Daddy, what do you like best about Mommy?" He said "I'm sorry - I can't tell you that. It's a secret." So she turned to me and said "Mommy - what do you like best about Daddy?" Without hesitation I said "Easy - his wallett!" (which cracked him up, by the way...) It should be noted here that I did tell Karlin I was only kidding, and then gave her a legitimate answer to the question. I'm not totally irresponsible, you know.
* Some Florida State fan actually attempted to raz me about Tim Tebow & the Gators losing to Ole Miss by a point last season. Can you believe that crap? Did Florida State even play last season? Aren't they on some sort of suspension? Does the coach even know his own name anymore?
* This weekend is my 11th wedding anniversary. My husband got us a new washing machine, and then posted on Facebook "Happy Anniversary, baby - thanks for 11 years of laundry." Funny guy, eh?
* Soon I'm going to start writing down all the funny-ass stuff Chase says. He makes me laugh out loud at least once a day, but whenever I try to tell someone about what he said, I can never remember.
Later Gators! ;)
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Places I've Worked That Are No More
In light of the recent sad news about The ZOO in Gulf Breeze closing, I started to think about all the places that I have worked that don't exist anymore. I can't say I'm entirely to blame, but it does seem strange that so many of these places are gone. The fact that most of them are in development-and-success stunted Northwest Florida might have something to do with it.
* Shoe City - Eastgate Plaza on 9th Ave. in Pensacola. My first job, and I spent all my money on shoes.
* Albertson's - 9th Avenue in Pensacola. I worked at the video counter. I believe it's now a Publix, if it's still open at all.
* The Scuba Shack in downtown Pensacola. I worked there for a week and a half, mainly cutting bait out on charter fishing boats. (I quit, for the record.) I don't know if they went out of business, or if Hurricane Ivan did that for them.
* Henry Animal Clinic on Creighton Road in Pensacola. Ole Doc Henry retired and sold the practice. What an easy job - most of the time I watched TV.
* Some weirdo retail shop in Cordova Mall in Pensacola. I worked there 1 Christmas. It was open for such a short time that I can't even remember what it was called. I bought a sweet Esprit dress with my discount, though....teal polka dots (it was the 80's - cut me some slack.)
* Phar-Mor. You guys remember Phar More that used to be out on Davis Highway in Pensacola? I worked at the video counter there and occasionally at the registers while in Grad School. It's gone now too.
* The Pensacola Ice Pilots - Pensacola, FL. Fun-ass job, long-hours, and meager pay. I hear a rumor that they're coming back, but I won't believe that until I see it.
* The ZOO and Botanical Gardens, Gulf Breeze, Florida. Best, most fun job I ever had. I got to do so many cool things, and loved working there even though high school kids at McDs were making more money than I was. Still in touch with some of the people I worked with - we all feel the same way about the place.
Subway on 9th Avenue and The United Way are still there (last time I checked.) I cleaned Beach Houses for 1 weekend - my gawd was THAT awful. Since then my "grown-up" jobs have all been out of town. The Gulf Coats Exploreum is still there in Mobile, and Zoo Atlanta is still kicking. I was an elf at Chick Fil A a few years back, and it seems to have survived. The pre-school where I subbed last year is also doing well.
As for The ZOO...I seriously don't think I'll ever have as much fun as I did chasing down escaped hippos, flying birds of prey, and carrying lemurs around school classrooms. If I had that job today, I would be a rock star with my kids.
Adios ZOO - thanks for the fun times. And remember to please keep your hands and arms inside the train at all times.
* Shoe City - Eastgate Plaza on 9th Ave. in Pensacola. My first job, and I spent all my money on shoes.
* Albertson's - 9th Avenue in Pensacola. I worked at the video counter. I believe it's now a Publix, if it's still open at all.
* The Scuba Shack in downtown Pensacola. I worked there for a week and a half, mainly cutting bait out on charter fishing boats. (I quit, for the record.) I don't know if they went out of business, or if Hurricane Ivan did that for them.
* Henry Animal Clinic on Creighton Road in Pensacola. Ole Doc Henry retired and sold the practice. What an easy job - most of the time I watched TV.
* Some weirdo retail shop in Cordova Mall in Pensacola. I worked there 1 Christmas. It was open for such a short time that I can't even remember what it was called. I bought a sweet Esprit dress with my discount, though....teal polka dots (it was the 80's - cut me some slack.)
* Phar-Mor. You guys remember Phar More that used to be out on Davis Highway in Pensacola? I worked at the video counter there and occasionally at the registers while in Grad School. It's gone now too.
* The Pensacola Ice Pilots - Pensacola, FL. Fun-ass job, long-hours, and meager pay. I hear a rumor that they're coming back, but I won't believe that until I see it.
* The ZOO and Botanical Gardens, Gulf Breeze, Florida. Best, most fun job I ever had. I got to do so many cool things, and loved working there even though high school kids at McDs were making more money than I was. Still in touch with some of the people I worked with - we all feel the same way about the place.
Subway on 9th Avenue and The United Way are still there (last time I checked.) I cleaned Beach Houses for 1 weekend - my gawd was THAT awful. Since then my "grown-up" jobs have all been out of town. The Gulf Coats Exploreum is still there in Mobile, and Zoo Atlanta is still kicking. I was an elf at Chick Fil A a few years back, and it seems to have survived. The pre-school where I subbed last year is also doing well.
As for The ZOO...I seriously don't think I'll ever have as much fun as I did chasing down escaped hippos, flying birds of prey, and carrying lemurs around school classrooms. If I had that job today, I would be a rock star with my kids.
Adios ZOO - thanks for the fun times. And remember to please keep your hands and arms inside the train at all times.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
It's Hard To Be A Southerner From Florida
Below is an article I wrote with the intention of sending it to "Southern Living." But I chickened out. I still think it's pretty good, though, so I thought I'd stick it up here.
Having spent all but 4 years of my life in Florida, I feel that I am a bonafide, tried-and-true southerner. I was born and raised in Pensacola – home of the Blue Angels, the Bushwacker, and some of the best beaches and fried seafood known to mankind. I lived for a time in Orlando, and after a short stint in Georgia (another southern state, I might point out…), my family has settled in Tampa.
Now, being a native Floridian is a little bit of a rarity these days, and you’d be hard pressed to find a lot of native Pensacolians. (Those of us who are native Pensacolians probably either are related or know each other, or our parents graduated high school together, or our grandmas go to the same Baptist Church.) But being a native Floridian/Pensacolian, I have always felt like a true southerner. I love fried okra. My dad used to grow tomatoes and squash as big as your head in our backyard. I could swim in the Gulf surf before I could walk. I believe that oysters - in any form - are their own food group. I can spot a frozen shrimp from a mile away. I believe canoeing down some backwoods creek may be one of the finest pleasures in life, and I started doing it when I was 5. I was raised to know that you don’t schedule a wedding, a wake, a Baptism, or ANYTHING on the same day as Florida-Florida State or Auburn-Alabama football weekends. I know that the best BBQ comes from scary little shacks on dirt roads, sweet iced tea is a life necessity, and that butter beans should never be eaten out of a can. I know that every southern holiday meal has at least 2 “entrees” (usually ham and turkey), no fewer than 15 side dishes, and at least 8 desserts. I know that sitting out in a park square in 98 degree heat, getting eaten by mosquitoes, and listening to music from the gazebo is just something you do. I say “yes maam” and “yes sir” to this day, regardless of the age of the person I am speaking to. I pull over for funerals (a practice, I might add, that has just about gotten me run over here in Tampa.) I know that beer and Tylenol are always in the shopping cart when a hurricane is coming. I have stood on the top of Stone Mountain, eaten Key Lime Pie by sunset in Mallory Square, and danced down Bourbon Street at Mardi Gras. I know what a Moon Pie is. I was in a sorority in college, and married a fraternity boy – my high school sweetheart, actually. I love the sound of the Mourning Dove, the call of the Sandhill Crane, the mystery sounds of the Mockingbird, and the sound of an Osprey on the hunt. I love “the fair” – the rides, the deep-friend everything, the pig races. I still say “ya’ll” and “fixin”. I am a Southerner.
But the rest of the Southerners don’t really agree with me. See – being from Pensacola, the “rest” of Florida considers us a part of Alabama. Southern? Yes. A Floridian from the South? No. Those os us from Northwest Florida and Pensacola know we’re not a part of Alabama, but we think the rest of Florida isn’t southern, either. Except maybe Ocala and Micanopy, but nothing south of Orlando.
So what part of Florida is southern? Miami has too many New Yorkers. Tampa has too many Latinos. Tallahassee is only the south because the Governor says it is. (The Governor with no Southern accent.) Pensacola is too far west. Jacksonville is too close to Georgia. Naples and West Palm? Forget it – you won’t find any natives around there. Key West? Too many weirdos. Orlando? All tourists.
And that’s just what Floridians think! Don’t even get me started on what Alabama, Georgia, Mississippi, and Louisiana think. And outside of that? It still makes me giggle to see features on Maryland in Southern Living. And Texas? Texas is a land in and of itself…even Texans will tell you that.
So what is a good Southern girl to do? What else can I do…I’ll teach my kids to say “ya’ll”. I’ll learn how to make the best sweet iced tea. I’ll learn to make cornbread from scratch. I’ll teach my kids about Spanish Moss and Ponce de Leon. We’ll root for the Gators and eat BBQ and at least shop for squash and tomatoes. And – bless their baby hearts – we’ll go to the fair. (My daughter won the blue ribbon for being a Champion Pig Picker at the pig races at the Strawberry Festival just last year – honest!)
Having spent all but 4 years of my life in Florida, I feel that I am a bonafide, tried-and-true southerner. I was born and raised in Pensacola – home of the Blue Angels, the Bushwacker, and some of the best beaches and fried seafood known to mankind. I lived for a time in Orlando, and after a short stint in Georgia (another southern state, I might point out…), my family has settled in Tampa.
Now, being a native Floridian is a little bit of a rarity these days, and you’d be hard pressed to find a lot of native Pensacolians. (Those of us who are native Pensacolians probably either are related or know each other, or our parents graduated high school together, or our grandmas go to the same Baptist Church.) But being a native Floridian/Pensacolian, I have always felt like a true southerner. I love fried okra. My dad used to grow tomatoes and squash as big as your head in our backyard. I could swim in the Gulf surf before I could walk. I believe that oysters - in any form - are their own food group. I can spot a frozen shrimp from a mile away. I believe canoeing down some backwoods creek may be one of the finest pleasures in life, and I started doing it when I was 5. I was raised to know that you don’t schedule a wedding, a wake, a Baptism, or ANYTHING on the same day as Florida-Florida State or Auburn-Alabama football weekends. I know that the best BBQ comes from scary little shacks on dirt roads, sweet iced tea is a life necessity, and that butter beans should never be eaten out of a can. I know that every southern holiday meal has at least 2 “entrees” (usually ham and turkey), no fewer than 15 side dishes, and at least 8 desserts. I know that sitting out in a park square in 98 degree heat, getting eaten by mosquitoes, and listening to music from the gazebo is just something you do. I say “yes maam” and “yes sir” to this day, regardless of the age of the person I am speaking to. I pull over for funerals (a practice, I might add, that has just about gotten me run over here in Tampa.) I know that beer and Tylenol are always in the shopping cart when a hurricane is coming. I have stood on the top of Stone Mountain, eaten Key Lime Pie by sunset in Mallory Square, and danced down Bourbon Street at Mardi Gras. I know what a Moon Pie is. I was in a sorority in college, and married a fraternity boy – my high school sweetheart, actually. I love the sound of the Mourning Dove, the call of the Sandhill Crane, the mystery sounds of the Mockingbird, and the sound of an Osprey on the hunt. I love “the fair” – the rides, the deep-friend everything, the pig races. I still say “ya’ll” and “fixin”. I am a Southerner.
But the rest of the Southerners don’t really agree with me. See – being from Pensacola, the “rest” of Florida considers us a part of Alabama. Southern? Yes. A Floridian from the South? No. Those os us from Northwest Florida and Pensacola know we’re not a part of Alabama, but we think the rest of Florida isn’t southern, either. Except maybe Ocala and Micanopy, but nothing south of Orlando.
So what part of Florida is southern? Miami has too many New Yorkers. Tampa has too many Latinos. Tallahassee is only the south because the Governor says it is. (The Governor with no Southern accent.) Pensacola is too far west. Jacksonville is too close to Georgia. Naples and West Palm? Forget it – you won’t find any natives around there. Key West? Too many weirdos. Orlando? All tourists.
And that’s just what Floridians think! Don’t even get me started on what Alabama, Georgia, Mississippi, and Louisiana think. And outside of that? It still makes me giggle to see features on Maryland in Southern Living. And Texas? Texas is a land in and of itself…even Texans will tell you that.
So what is a good Southern girl to do? What else can I do…I’ll teach my kids to say “ya’ll”. I’ll learn how to make the best sweet iced tea. I’ll learn to make cornbread from scratch. I’ll teach my kids about Spanish Moss and Ponce de Leon. We’ll root for the Gators and eat BBQ and at least shop for squash and tomatoes. And – bless their baby hearts – we’ll go to the fair. (My daughter won the blue ribbon for being a Champion Pig Picker at the pig races at the Strawberry Festival just last year – honest!)
Monday, August 10, 2009
Living in Florida
(This is me blogging about nothing of significance just for the sake of blogging.)
Most of you reading this either live in Florida now, or have lived in Florida at some point. In either case, you are going to know exactly what I mean with this blog.
I love living in Florida. The heat doesn't even bother me. The bugs are managebale. Bring on the tropical storms & lightning shows - love em! Beaches, seafood, Disney World, Key West, the Florida Gators - what's not to love? (OK - maybe the obnoxious New York transplants who are so rude, or the Illegal Immigrants sucking up my tax dollars, but other than that...)
One of the only things I don't like is the humidity. I went jogging last week, and when I stopped to catch my breath I couldn't. No - I wasn't having a heart attack. It was more that I felt like I was breathing underwater. Or breahing IN water. The humidity level was - seriously - 90% or something like that. I relate it to what it would probably feel like to breathe in maple syrup. Thick and wet.
Then today, I had the good sense to go jogging about 2 hours earlier. (DUH - 15 degree temerapture difference, if I could only manage to get my fat ass out of bed...) The humidity was better today, a manageable 70% or so. But if you've lived in Florida for any amount of time, you'll know the smell I encountered this morning. The smell of damp. Nightly rainstorms, partnered with high humidity and a high water table, all add up to, well, DAMP. Imagine if you put some mud and grass clippings in a garbage bag and left it in the sun for a week. Open it up, and that's what Tampa smelled like this morning. Not the rich, pungent smell of say - a wetlands, or the musty smell of a hay barn. More like a rotting, wet, decaying smell. It was not pleasant. A breeze might help, but usually there's only a breeze in August when it's blowing some rain around, so that doesn't really help at all.
On a related note...why is it that I like to sit on my lanai and drink beer and watch it rain? It must be in my genetic code or something, 'cause my Dad used to do the same thing. Only he sat on what the "regular folks" would call a "porch." (I actually hate the word lanai - it sounds so prententious.)
Only in Florida do you watch the news and see the Governor riding in an airboat through the Everglades to oversee a "Python Hunt." No - really. Apparently south Florida is being over-run by exotic snakes that some dimwits let loose in the wild. There have been at least 3 big news stories in the past few weeks involving big snakes. I mean, that's just entertainment right there.
If you have ever read any books by Dave Barry, he absolutely nails the "eccentric Florida" that I know and love. Carl Hiassen does a good job too. Florida is such a wacky place - you just gotta love it.
Just don't try to breathe in August.
Most of you reading this either live in Florida now, or have lived in Florida at some point. In either case, you are going to know exactly what I mean with this blog.
I love living in Florida. The heat doesn't even bother me. The bugs are managebale. Bring on the tropical storms & lightning shows - love em! Beaches, seafood, Disney World, Key West, the Florida Gators - what's not to love? (OK - maybe the obnoxious New York transplants who are so rude, or the Illegal Immigrants sucking up my tax dollars, but other than that...)
One of the only things I don't like is the humidity. I went jogging last week, and when I stopped to catch my breath I couldn't. No - I wasn't having a heart attack. It was more that I felt like I was breathing underwater. Or breahing IN water. The humidity level was - seriously - 90% or something like that. I relate it to what it would probably feel like to breathe in maple syrup. Thick and wet.
Then today, I had the good sense to go jogging about 2 hours earlier. (DUH - 15 degree temerapture difference, if I could only manage to get my fat ass out of bed...) The humidity was better today, a manageable 70% or so. But if you've lived in Florida for any amount of time, you'll know the smell I encountered this morning. The smell of damp. Nightly rainstorms, partnered with high humidity and a high water table, all add up to, well, DAMP. Imagine if you put some mud and grass clippings in a garbage bag and left it in the sun for a week. Open it up, and that's what Tampa smelled like this morning. Not the rich, pungent smell of say - a wetlands, or the musty smell of a hay barn. More like a rotting, wet, decaying smell. It was not pleasant. A breeze might help, but usually there's only a breeze in August when it's blowing some rain around, so that doesn't really help at all.
On a related note...why is it that I like to sit on my lanai and drink beer and watch it rain? It must be in my genetic code or something, 'cause my Dad used to do the same thing. Only he sat on what the "regular folks" would call a "porch." (I actually hate the word lanai - it sounds so prententious.)
Only in Florida do you watch the news and see the Governor riding in an airboat through the Everglades to oversee a "Python Hunt." No - really. Apparently south Florida is being over-run by exotic snakes that some dimwits let loose in the wild. There have been at least 3 big news stories in the past few weeks involving big snakes. I mean, that's just entertainment right there.
If you have ever read any books by Dave Barry, he absolutely nails the "eccentric Florida" that I know and love. Carl Hiassen does a good job too. Florida is such a wacky place - you just gotta love it.
Just don't try to breathe in August.
Monday, July 20, 2009
Things I Didn't Do On Vacation
Lucky me - I got to go on vacation with my family to beautiful MEXICO! I have decided that Mexico is just one of my favorite places on the planet. It's pretty, it's cheap, the people rock, the food is amazing, and the tequila is everywhere. If you get a chance to go, I highly recommend the Palace Resorts. There are 7 or 8 of them along east coast of Mexico, and one in Puerto Vallarta. I did a lot on my vacation, but I think it's a lot more telling to fill you in on what I didn't do.
I didn't:
* want to take a nap
* take any Ibuprofen
* take any antacids
* bite my fingernails
* worry about how I looked in my bathing suit
* worry about the calories in the food I was eating
* think about my house
* think about the PTA
* look at my watch
* wear a watch
* shy away from trying to learn some Spanish
* hurry
* watch any TV
* listen to my Ipod
* check my email
* read anything other than a menu
* turn on my phone
* bring my phone
* send any text messages
* stress in any way, shape, or form
* look at the Weather Channel
* watch any movies
* clean anything
* cook anything
* worry about being embarrassed at the spa
* worry about being naked at the spa
* worry about my kids having a good time
* worry about my kids drowning
* worry about my kids eating the "right" foods
* worry about how many Mojitos I'd had
* worry about the Swine Flu
* worry
All vacations should be so good. Seriously.
I didn't:
* want to take a nap
* take any Ibuprofen
* take any antacids
* bite my fingernails
* worry about how I looked in my bathing suit
* worry about the calories in the food I was eating
* think about my house
* think about the PTA
* look at my watch
* wear a watch
* shy away from trying to learn some Spanish
* hurry
* watch any TV
* listen to my Ipod
* check my email
* read anything other than a menu
* turn on my phone
* bring my phone
* send any text messages
* stress in any way, shape, or form
* look at the Weather Channel
* watch any movies
* clean anything
* cook anything
* worry about being embarrassed at the spa
* worry about being naked at the spa
* worry about my kids having a good time
* worry about my kids drowning
* worry about my kids eating the "right" foods
* worry about how many Mojitos I'd had
* worry about the Swine Flu
* worry
All vacations should be so good. Seriously.
Monday, June 29, 2009
The Glory of Being a Woman (in a dress)
Most men have NO IDEA what we go through to look good. My dear hubby got an idea this weekend when we got all dolled up to go out to a fancy-schmancy business dinner.
Step 1: Buy a dress. Sounds simple enough, but...no. Not really. I personally did my own little version of "27 Dresses", since I tried on at least that many. Did you know that - if you have large breasts - you practically have to be a contortionist in order to try on a dress with a side zipper? Imagine me, all alone, twisting the damned dress(es) around trying to hold down my boobs while pulling the zipper taut with one hand and yanking on the zipper with the other hand. Yes - it was really like that. After dress #16, I decided that I was no longer trying on any dresses with side zippers. FINALLY I found a dress. Cute and summery, fairly flattering, and 50% off. Sweeeeeeeeet. But then there's the problem of the bra.
Step 2: Buy a bra. The particular dress that I purchased was a type that sorta wraps over the boobs. It was not particularly low-cut or risque, but most of my mammoth support bras showed in the front because they didn't plunge enough. But that's OK, right? They have these nifty cool things called convertible bras! It took me 3 stores and 8 bras, but I finally found a Vera Wang bra that had a low profile in the front, and those nifty clear straps that could go over the shoulders, or cross in the back. Done. It may be worth noting here that most of those really cool bras come in A,B, or C cup sizes. Occasionally, you may stumble upon a D size (which I did.) But that's not much comfort (and I mean that literally) when you could probably use one just a little bigger than that. This bra was also the same price as the dress.
Step 3: Get Dressed. Once I was putting on the dress, I realized that when I walked around, the straps were too loose. The sitter was arriving in 20 minutes, so there was no time to sew or pin or anything. The dress has straps that button in the back, and had 2 button holes so you could adjust the strap lengths. Still a tad too long. And with the dress sliding around, the bra was showing. The last thing I needed was to have a Janet Jackson moment in the middle of the appetizer. So I get Bart to help me. First, we crossed the convertible bra straps and hooked them into place. (Ow.) Then, I had him cross the dress straps. This succeeded in making everything stay put, but man o man was I strapped in. Boobs weren't popping out, but I did look a bit like a breast-feeding mom. And in order to get the boobs to stay put, the dress was tighter, making the skin between the boobs and the shoulder kind of spooge out. UGH. Thank God for the wrap my sister-in-law loaned me. I played all night like I was chilly, and kept the wrap on. Oh - and I almost forgot what I lovingly call the sucky-innie pants. These are nude-colored bicycle type shorts that cover from just under your boobs to your thighs. They suck everything in. They are horribly uncomfortable, and getting them on is a little like putting on a wetsuit.
So I went to dinner, in my too-small convertible bra, with my boobs packed in tight, with a wrap to hide the spoogy arm flesh , and sucky-innie pants to make everything smooth. I am fairly certain I would have been more comfortable in a space suit. But I looked pretty good, and I guess that's what counts.
Step 4: Get undressed. First off - the sucky-innie pants didn't make it the whole night. After dinner, I went to the restroom and pulled them off, and stuck them in my purse. (Dear God don't let anyone ask me for anything that might be in my purse.) Wow - MUCH better, though. I have never been so glad to get clothes off in my life, with maybe the one exception of my wedding day, when I ran through 96 degree heat while people pelted me with birdseed, which then got stuck in the sweat between my body and another infamous support-and-structure type garment. Anyway, once home, I took off the dress and the bra. I had indentations in my skin from both for about 3 hours. Ouch.
All in all, though dinner went well. Nothing of mine popped out (not the boobs, not the sucky-innie pants from my purse), and the evening was a success.
It still surprises me what we go through to look good. And in re-reading this, it surprises me that we invent vocabulary when we look good. I'm pretty certain I've never seen "sucky-inny" pants marketed anywhere, and "spoogy" is not in the Dictionary.
Maybe it should be - most women understand 100% what "spoogy" skin is. Maybe I'll write "The Women's' Beauty Dictionary". Words like "spoogy" and "sucky-innie" could become a part of the world's everyday vocabulary! Then again...maybe I should spend that time doing something to make the spoogy stuff a little less spoogy, and decreasing the necessity of sucky-innie pants.
My Wii Active should be here today.
Step 1: Buy a dress. Sounds simple enough, but...no. Not really. I personally did my own little version of "27 Dresses", since I tried on at least that many. Did you know that - if you have large breasts - you practically have to be a contortionist in order to try on a dress with a side zipper? Imagine me, all alone, twisting the damned dress(es) around trying to hold down my boobs while pulling the zipper taut with one hand and yanking on the zipper with the other hand. Yes - it was really like that. After dress #16, I decided that I was no longer trying on any dresses with side zippers. FINALLY I found a dress. Cute and summery, fairly flattering, and 50% off. Sweeeeeeeeet. But then there's the problem of the bra.
Step 2: Buy a bra. The particular dress that I purchased was a type that sorta wraps over the boobs. It was not particularly low-cut or risque, but most of my mammoth support bras showed in the front because they didn't plunge enough. But that's OK, right? They have these nifty cool things called convertible bras! It took me 3 stores and 8 bras, but I finally found a Vera Wang bra that had a low profile in the front, and those nifty clear straps that could go over the shoulders, or cross in the back. Done. It may be worth noting here that most of those really cool bras come in A,B, or C cup sizes. Occasionally, you may stumble upon a D size (which I did.) But that's not much comfort (and I mean that literally) when you could probably use one just a little bigger than that. This bra was also the same price as the dress.
Step 3: Get Dressed. Once I was putting on the dress, I realized that when I walked around, the straps were too loose. The sitter was arriving in 20 minutes, so there was no time to sew or pin or anything. The dress has straps that button in the back, and had 2 button holes so you could adjust the strap lengths. Still a tad too long. And with the dress sliding around, the bra was showing. The last thing I needed was to have a Janet Jackson moment in the middle of the appetizer. So I get Bart to help me. First, we crossed the convertible bra straps and hooked them into place. (Ow.) Then, I had him cross the dress straps. This succeeded in making everything stay put, but man o man was I strapped in. Boobs weren't popping out, but I did look a bit like a breast-feeding mom. And in order to get the boobs to stay put, the dress was tighter, making the skin between the boobs and the shoulder kind of spooge out. UGH. Thank God for the wrap my sister-in-law loaned me. I played all night like I was chilly, and kept the wrap on. Oh - and I almost forgot what I lovingly call the sucky-innie pants. These are nude-colored bicycle type shorts that cover from just under your boobs to your thighs. They suck everything in. They are horribly uncomfortable, and getting them on is a little like putting on a wetsuit.
So I went to dinner, in my too-small convertible bra, with my boobs packed in tight, with a wrap to hide the spoogy arm flesh , and sucky-innie pants to make everything smooth. I am fairly certain I would have been more comfortable in a space suit. But I looked pretty good, and I guess that's what counts.
Step 4: Get undressed. First off - the sucky-innie pants didn't make it the whole night. After dinner, I went to the restroom and pulled them off, and stuck them in my purse. (Dear God don't let anyone ask me for anything that might be in my purse.) Wow - MUCH better, though. I have never been so glad to get clothes off in my life, with maybe the one exception of my wedding day, when I ran through 96 degree heat while people pelted me with birdseed, which then got stuck in the sweat between my body and another infamous support-and-structure type garment. Anyway, once home, I took off the dress and the bra. I had indentations in my skin from both for about 3 hours. Ouch.
All in all, though dinner went well. Nothing of mine popped out (not the boobs, not the sucky-innie pants from my purse), and the evening was a success.
It still surprises me what we go through to look good. And in re-reading this, it surprises me that we invent vocabulary when we look good. I'm pretty certain I've never seen "sucky-inny" pants marketed anywhere, and "spoogy" is not in the Dictionary.
Maybe it should be - most women understand 100% what "spoogy" skin is. Maybe I'll write "The Women's' Beauty Dictionary". Words like "spoogy" and "sucky-innie" could become a part of the world's everyday vocabulary! Then again...maybe I should spend that time doing something to make the spoogy stuff a little less spoogy, and decreasing the necessity of sucky-innie pants.
My Wii Active should be here today.
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