That is, until I saw this:
If I were even on a reasonable diet, two of these would knock me out for the day. And sometimes do.
They don’t do much to nourish a growing baby, either, if I decided to just have two peppermint mochas a day.
But, oh, are they good for the soul. Cheers!
Van Morrison, Oh The Warm Feeling
I start to get tired at about 2:00 PM. My bones hurt even earlier — my body whispers “Lie down, lie down!” starting at about 11 AM. I snuck in a little lie-down time while Shaun was bathing Ruby tonight, with a pillow between the ‘ol legs and a scrunched up blankie under my head. I always feel better, physically, after a night’s sleep — my pelvis has been at rest and I am ready to face more tromping around.
Why, then, am I still up at 11:20 PM? Telling you folks this? The last two nights I have wandered upstairs at 2 AM.
I don’t get it! Goodnight!
Mary Poppins soundtrack, Stay Awake
So the holiday season has started, which means catalogs. Hundreds of pounds of catalogs. I tried, last year, to get off the lists. I must have been on the phone for an entire day, begging to be removed from list after list after list. Eddie Bauer, Smith & Hawken, Crate and Barrel, Williams Sonoma, LL Bean, Sharper Image, blah blah blah. I don’t think I got off one list. In fact, I think all the companies called each other and just laughed at my persistence.
There are a couple catalogs I like — one in particular called Boden — but I can’t afford it! It’s one of those that makes you salivate over the quality and the uniqueness of the clothes, and then throw up a little bit in your mouth at the prices. Here’s my favorite image from the latest catalog:
This jaunty gal is excited because her husband just approved of her online purchase, $547 for the smart outfit she has on. She can’t believe it — she’s lighter than air! Now, Shaun doesn’t need to “approve of” my purchases (if I make the money I can spend it, right?) but he would raise an eyebrow if I bought a $547 outfit, and then came leaping into the kitchen in it, a la Riverdance.
Sinead O’Connor, The Emperor’s New Clothes
Today we had one of those car seat moments where I thought my head might pop off. Ruby’s too. Do you find yourself doing the “1…..2…………………….OK, 1…..2…..” thing with your toddler? The old “Count to Three” that always scared the beJesus out of me (look out if you were not inyourseat, outofthecar, inyourjacket, readyforbath by ***3***) has absolutely no effect on Ruby. If she decides she wants to “do it [her]self,” then you get it done on 1. 2 usually causes a bit of a rolled-eye effect but she trudges on with whatever it is.
Today, it was the dreaded car seat — the place where every toddler at some point refuses to go — even if your ultimate destination, once the car is started, is Disneyworld. I am, most times, more scared of 3 than she is, wondering “what the hell am I going to do at 3 that is any different than what I tried before I started this foolish counting?”
We got to three. I put her (too sternly) in the car seat, and spent the next whatseemedlike 45 minutes trying to buckle in an anaconda covered in Vaseline, hepped up on crystal meth. She was screaming so loud that I had tears in my eyes. Once I got her in, I stood by the closed car for what felt like a long time just waiting it out. Even then, she screamed all the way to the park, the site of which prompted her to say “I feel better now, Momma,” and offer to put back on half the clothes/shoes she had taken off and chucked up front on the ride.
“Good,” I thought, “then you won’t mind a little detour to the liquor store before we leap gaily onto the swings.”
She and I both feel at wits’ end at these moments. I, however, am the adult. When am I going to learn the path through it, for both of us?
Or, do I just white-knuckle it until she’s three?
Don’t answer that…that’s still 7 months away.
M.A.R.R.S., Pump Up The Volume
Thanksgiving was luscious. Two of my three siblings were in attendance, as well as my (great) in-laws, an aunt and a couple “orphans,” friends of my sister’s from another town. We dined and dashed (Dad’s treat!) at my parents’ lovely country club, and came back to cozy home for the Tryptophan Drop.
As for blogging, I haven’t thought about much other than this post at Schmutzie’s site — it knocked my socks off and I told her so. There! I just told her again! I hope you’re not in a big puddle when it knocks your socks off as well, because it’s cold out! Why does it feel like all my poems start with “Roses are red…” once I read one of hers?
And, speaking of writing that makes you feel emotionally remedial, check out solomother.com. I am smiley all over that I can make her laugh — most times she makes me rub my eyes and read her entries again and again, (most recently, this one). If she asked me that fancy French question, I would certainly say “I adore you,” with at least a fake-o accent if I couldn’t figure it out in another language.
Dusty Springfield, Wishing and Hoping
We are off today for a dinner OUT, which is such a treat. Friends, family, and no clean-up! I hope you are looking forward to your celebration.
And, depending on how competitive you are, you may or may not want to have this guy at your Pictionary table this holiday weekend.
Thanks for visiting Fannfare, and have a great holiday!
Poi Dog Pondering, Thanksgiving
I haven’t seen any blogosphere blow-up about Michael Richards yet! My friend put it best when he said, “I felt like I had been tricked.” None of us knew Michael Richards, we just knew Kramer, but it still feels like he pulled the wool over our eyes for years! Where does that stuff even come from?
“Fifty years ago we’d have had you upside down…” ?!
I think Michael Richards has some significant upside-down time in his future. In a very warm place.
Diana Ross, Upside Down
I give you Baby Fanning II, or as Ruby has dubbed him, Tiger.
Note: The label, “boy parts,” was added by the radiologist. I might have used the scientific words for “it’s a boy!” while Shaun would have surely gone with “thundercock.”
We’re not sure what to do with this information — we were both so convinced Ruby would have a sister that I asked “Are you sure that’s not just an enormous vagina?” We are still wrapping our brains around it, while thanking the universe that he has all his parts. Thank you, also, Internet, for all your good wishes. My pelvis and I thank you.
Glen Campbell, Rhinestone Cowboy
NaBloPoMo plods on. I offer up the One-Word Meme, which is harder than it seems. All answers must be one word, and one word only.
Yourself: Intense
Your partner: Forgiving
Your hair: Mine
Your mother: Deserving
Your father: Consistent
Your favorite item: Nikon
Your dream last night: Accident
Your favorite drink: Unwise
Your dream car: Volvo
Your dream home: Next
The room you are in: Dining
Your ex: Serbian
Your fear: Drowning
Where you want to be in ten years: Surrounded
Who you hung out with last night: Carrie
What you’re not: Timid
Muffins: Moist
One of your wish list items: Relaxation
Time: 4
The last thing you did: Blog
What you are wearing: Comfies
Your favorite weather: Crisp
Your favorite book: Meany
Last thing you ate: Oyster
Your life: Large
Your best friend: Fluid
Your mood: Thoughtful
What are you thinking about right now: Coffee
Your car: Free
What are you doing at the moment: Noodling
Your summer: Puzzling
Relationship status: Married
What is on your tv: Dust
What is the weather like: Grey
When is the last time you laughed: 3
U2, One
