how come?

how come?

"How come?" has become central in my life these days.

"How come I'm not scared of giant pretend spiders?" I struggle to answer this but she's already on to the next.

"How come I have to make my bed if I'm going to get back in later today?" I suspect her father gave her this one. I plan to smack the shit out of him later.

"How come people were excited for Barack Obama and now everyone is complaining and complaining about him?"

"How come you gave me gum?"

***

Yeah, 'how come' is central these days, and not just because I'm in the constant company of a 5 year-old. My 'how come' today is internal. I'm trying so so so hard NOT to think about something so how come it's what I think about 1,000 times a day?

it's been a while

it's been a while

... and I don't have time now, but I'm tempted to continue here so, here we go!


*From this morning's overheard conversation in the bathroom while Bear does Rio's hair*

Bear: Rio, if you don't hold still I'm going to chuck you in a snowbank.

Rio: Oh yeah, if you chuck me in a snowbank, I'll light you on fire.

Bear: Oh yeah, if you do that, I'll throw you out that window.

Rio: Oh yeah, if you do that, I'll stick earrings all over your face.

Bear: Oh yeah, if you do that, I'll brush your teeth with sandy earthworms.

Rio: Oh yeah, if you do that, I'll brush your teeth til they fall out.

Bear: Oh yeah, if you do that, I'll tickle you til you throw up.

Rio: Oh yeah, if you do that, I'll dress you up like a girl and make you go to the Princess Ball and drink wine.

Bear: ... ... ...

Evidently the threat of being pimped out trumps Daddy - The Insult Hairstylist.

happy father's day

happy father's day

She made it tough to find him. She went as far as to give me her high school class ring - from a school she didn't attend. She buried the trail deep. False facts scattered brilliantly. A multi-dimensional set of little islands of lies she might need in a future fabrication. Deep.

I found him anyway. Serendipitous bit. Another story. A story that confirms that bit about all it takes for evil to triumph is for good people to do nothing. One of those good people had enough one day, and gave me his phone number the next.

I met my father when I was 30. And my adored little sister when she was 10. The weight of a non-existent past is surprisingly heavy.

We learned about each other in bits and pieces. He never tried to step into a false role. He referred to himself as my' Pops', but I preferred 'Dad.' We always discussed things as equals. He told me the stories about how he had tried and tried. How he always thought about us; me and my brother. How he always knew we'd find each other somehow. Some way. Some day.

We made our way over the last years. I often disagreed with his positions on issues, but he always made me giggle with the almost maniacal fever of his assertions. He was all about some very odd theories of the end of the world. I didn't realize the end of ours would come about so soon.

I was in CVS picking out cards. Cards for Bear's father and step-father. Cards for Rio's grandfathers. Cards for Bear from Rio. She opened a musical card that played 'Freebird.' It was a jokey card about a dad not being too old to rock and roll. And I'm surprised I was surprised by the tears. They pricked my eyes and I had to struggle to keep them contained. The thick, gray sadness that has gradually gotten easier to bear, came back almost unbearably hard. I miss my father still. Always. Deep.

If I could send him a card today, I'd pick that one that played 'Freebird' and I would sign it with love. I'd tell him he was not too old to rock and roll. I would promise to keep his stories, and the memory of him alive for Rio. I would promise to watch over Valencia, although she needs it less and less. I would include pictures of my happy little family, including the dog, because he loved animals AND cautioned me to always kiss my husband before kissing the dog. I might include a picture of me kissing the dog. I would tell him I love him and I miss him. I would tell him he's a great dad. Maybe the greatest. Certainly the most missed.

new and interesting ways to make my head explode

new and interesting ways to make my head explode

She's reading. A lot. Big and involved words. Thinking all.the.time. She's constantly asking me what words mean. It's been great for me to try to get concepts like satisfied across. My brain is creaky but enjoying this new level of interaction.

However.

She recently made up a word. I believe it's spelled O-Z-U-L-E-E-N-E-R-S. She would NO DOUBT correct me. The only challenge is that it's now on the list of "What does that mean?" and how in the hell am I supposed to answer that?

I made up a definition after being asked 4,117 times since breakfast "What does 'ozuleeners' mean?".

me: It means to scrub.

rio: Actually,that's not even close.

me: Well then, what does it mean?

rio: How should I know? That's why I asked you!

sedate ... or boring?

sedate ... or boring?

I'm sure you missed it but, this blog was hott pink for a minute. Oh, with little funny scrawly drawings.

So. Yeah. Tomorrow is the Tea Party at Rio's school. I'd better get to bed so I'm not the scary looking mom.

g'night!

huh. too much pink, methinks

huh. too much pink, methinks

Playing around with a lot of things.

Template.

Writing.

Returning to blogging.

Life.

Before I had a kid, I had no way to mark time. She firmly believes she's the center of the known Universe and that everything that happens involves her *somehow*. Every thing that I tell her about triggers the question, "How old was I?" and it is at once endearing, and maddening.

But I look at her now. She has a huge vocabulary. She has her own style of dress and I happen to believe she's channeling the lost spirit of Liberace most of the time. She's better in heels than I. She's better at math than I. She's says 'Go-ed' for 'went' and it's the only time of the day I get to feel smug.

She's 4 years, 10 months, and 9 days old. That's when my life really began.

can you hear me now?

can you hear me now?

When last I spoke to my "mother" I quite clearly told her that I would only speak to her in a therapeutic environment. Dueling shrinks. Witnesses. Security. I was crystal clear.

That was May 9th.

Since that time my baby sister graduated college. My father was murdered. My darling girl turned 4 a week after my darling husband turned 41. My life is moving too fast most days, and other days I just plain sleep through. But for my loved ones I push and push and push and hope to gain forward ground. I'm trying.

She called 2 days ago. No apology. Nothing reasonable even, although the unreasonable is always expected. She left a message saying she wished to see Rio and Bear. Call her back. This is her number.

Not a call from a therapeutic environment so, I did not return the call, as commanded.

Yesterday's message. "I'll be heading down your way on Friday and I would like to be allowed to see Rio. Call me."

She doesn't know my father was killed or she'd call and say something completely fucked up. I can't see her in a weakened state. I don't want to anyway. But does anyone want to guess who can't sleep?

Bear offered to call her. Tell her no. Tell her she's not welcomed. Tell her she's breaking the rules. Tell her she can not make me leave my house. My house.

She knits cashmere sweaters for her dog. She writes letter after letter; to the editor, the governor, old boyfriends. She has never given Rio a single gift. She has never sent one card. Not one 'Happy Birthday' card. Not one 'Happy Holidays' card. Not one. Ever.

She didn't keep us safe in her house and now she's planning to bring it here? I don't think so. I am on edge and waiting til Friday, Saturday, Sunday pass safely.

Watch the papers. This could go terribly wrong. Or maybe just right.

blogHer boston

blogHer boston

Now, I'm trying to decide whether to push forward, make real progress, write .. so I signed up for BlogHer Boston. But I just realized it's in Burlington. So I can't take the really cool train that goes right past my little town. And that, my friends, is throwing me for a loop that is completely out of proportion.

What else is new?

So, if I go you handful of faithfuls will be rewarded with a site that no longer sucks and rambles. If I don't, you can look forward to more of the same.

fashion rescue

fashion rescue

Is it just me, or does this look like you can choose your boob size by pulling the strings and inflating hidden bladders?!

what you don't know

what you don't know

I met my father when I was 30. Turned out, I had a sister, too. And five loving aunts. A darling uncle. And about a thousand cousins. It's been an awesome journey.

***

My mother made it as difficult as possible to 'find' him. She lied about our heritage, our father's knowledge of us, her state of residence, where she attended high school ... difficult.

***

I meant to get in here and tell you all about the week of May 17-24. My little sister graduated. We had a ball. My father and his first granddaughter, Little Miss Rio, really bonded. We have many pictures of the two of them - Rio dragging him by his fingers, Dad beaming. Rio trying to work the silly string can he just gave her, Dad beaming. Dad beaming. He started making plans to be on the east coast by her birthday. July. For good. He's moving! Big news but he's long been known for his devotion to all the children of his side of the family. Rio grabbed his heart and headed east with it. He planned to follow.

***

There are 'shirt off your back' people and that applies to my father in such a complete way. He'd give anything. If he had a lot, you had a lot. If he had little, you had half. Just that way. Pretty famous for it.

***

On May 31st he gave his life protecting a friend in need.

***

The story is long, complicated, stupid, and mostly tragic. But he's gone. I find myself in pain in a way I didn't know existed. Getting through the days seems impossible and yet, I have no choice. Really, it's all I can do to get out of bed and try to make sure my daughter, husband, brother, and sister are okay. I know this will change, but for now, I'm just done. This will be my last post and I don't know for how long. I don't know anything anymore it seems.

***

I asked him for strength so I could stand and deliver a eulogy. I wanted to make him proud. Although the details are fuzzy, I've been told I pulled it off.

***

Dad

My father was a man of passion and action. Occasionally ill-advised, and always with great gusto. He was the sort of man you would hope to have on your side both in joy, and in sorrow. Although I found him later in life, I have had the opportunity to create many beautiful memories of him that I shall cherish always. He was a friend to all who knew him, evidenced by the beautiful and pure emotions we witnessed yesterday.

I'd like to share a story that encompasses both his immediate call to action in any crisis, as well as the joyous lunacy that seemed to be such a part of his life.

My sister, V*, left for college and left her cat in my dad's care. Just as he happily walked my Auntie R*'s dog every day, he happily undertook this responsibility of the cat. One day he arrived home to find the cat on the step, hungry for a meal. He prepared a dish for the cat, no doubt inquiring about the cat's day and whatnot, and placed the meal down and the cat ate heartily. After the meal was finished, my father tried to pick up the cat and continue their conversation with some nice petting and snuggling. The cat went crazy – hissing and scratching my father. Me, being a dog person, would have returned the cat to the outdoors and wished it well in its ventures. But my father jumped to action. He thought, "Oh no! What if the cat has rabies or distemper?! What it he ate something and he's sick?! If there's something wrong with this cat it will break V's heart. I have to get it to the vet immediately!"

So. He found a box, cornered the cat in the house, and at great personal risk and eventual harm, he wrestled that cat into that box. He put the hissing, howling box into his car and drove out of the driveway. Two houses down the road -- he saw his actual cat. He told me the cat was sunning himself on a deck, and he craned his head and smiled as my father drove by; no doubt wondering at my dad's errand and wondering at the identity of the howling and hissing cat in the box.

That was him. Immediate action.

The first time I met him, it was at the Chicago airport. My sister was with him and she stood a bit behind him. Protected by him, and peaking out at me. He embraced me and launched into an unprepared but very content rich soliloquy. How he never stopped loving us. How he thought of us every day. How he tried and tried to find us and he was so happy to have us again. He told me we have a great big family that loves us and never forgot us. I looked at his hands on the steering wheel and thought, "My brother has those hands." It has been one of the best gifts in my life, and in my brother's life, to wander into this fantastic family.

I feel blessed to have his blood running through my veins. From my father I have received uncommon courage, an inquiring mind – even if I don't use those powers to try to apply the math for the stress patterns of titanium to the stock market, or to use things like the Mayan calendar to predict the exact date of earth's last day -, the ability to speak at superhuman speeds, and, obviously, his devastating good looks. He's given me an amazing family. A wonderful brother. An adored sister. His granddaughter, Rio, cherished him from the moment she met him. I know how she feels.

We will share his stories and I know he will continue to live in the hearts of his friends and his family. Thank you all for being a part of that.

less woe, more go

less woe, more go

I'm over the pity party. No one showed up. I really shouldn't start them so late...

So, for you today, a story. The best ever turn-down-Nita story.

***

I was living in Rotten-Groton and I was more than a little nuts. I had broken up with a guy who was purely evil to me. I didn't know, but while I was in a monogamous 2 year relationship, he was trying to screw his way into Guinness World Book. I'm a little slow like that... anyway, I met *him* in a round-about way. He was the son of the woman dating the father of the guy who poached me from my bartending job to work for the family company. How we doing so far?! Let's call him CS.

CS was not my type at all. He had red hair. He had a small human that he'd made. He lived an hour away. He was grumpy. He was still in love with his ex. The attraction, you ask? He had no interest whatsoever in me. None. So, in that temporary insanity phase of my life - it was love at first sight for me.

I pursued him mercilessly. I often dined at his mom's boyfriend's house and made doubly certain to be there when CS was visiting. I invited him places. I hosted BBQs whenever he was in town and bought insane amounts of prepared foods and booze in an effort to sway him with my fake cooking. I dressed up. I dressed down. I played with children before I knew that I could play with children ... I really tried.

We were sitting on my front porch, watching the boats go by, and I told him that there was not one single reason *I* could think of that I should NOT be his girlfriend. I liked that he lived far away. I wasn't needy. I was non-jealous to the point of oblivion and he could check with my ex on that fact! I had my own deal going. I had 3 other boys that I was dating so he didn't have to worry about me wanting to see him all the time. I lied and said I was not crazy. Still, he wasn't buying.

This is how he explained it. I shit you not.

me: Seriously. I'm a great girlfriend!

CS: Okay. Listen. This is how I see it. You're a John Deere tractor. Except - you're the total high-end model. You have the special sparkle paint job. You have every single attachment that John Deere makes. You have a leather cushioned adjustable seat. You have a sunshade.You even have chilled cup holders.

[pause]

But I live in Brooklyn. I don't got a lawn. See?

And at long last, I did.

***

Is it just me, or is that the greatest turndown eva?!

marketplace

marketplace

I have 3 friends in Massachusetts. I should try harder, but I find the days slip away in a whir of laundry, phonecalls, work, and just life. I may have to branch out.

My one friend's husband got a promotion. He can now work from anywhere on the east coast. They moved here when they were young and this is their first house ... they brought their babies home to this house. It was home. But they are alone here. All extended family lives in another state. And my friend and her husband miss their families.

So, they put the house on the market. I told her, "It's not like no one is ever going to buy a house again! Yours is in great shape, priced reasonably, and is highly desirable."

I usually don't mind that I'm always right.

Sold. In less than a week.

Joy.

I'm very happy for her but it makes me very aware of our situation. I'm estranged from my mother, but Vermont will always feel like home to me. Most of the people who are so important in my heart and life are there and there are many of them! I love 'going home' and Bear is always great about my frequent visits ... I just am feeling a bit conflicted.

My in-laws are awesome and they made CT so nice. Now they are an island of warmth, cupcakes, babies, and love there - and we're here.

We just got back from spending a week with my father's family in Wisconsin and Chicago area. That side is mostly Mexican and the family unit is huge. Rio had a sleepover with 3 cousins and she had the best time. I called my aunt to see how she was doing and my darling aunt said, and I quote, "Girl! She hasn't even asked for you! She's fine. See you tomorrow." That's how it rolls out there. Fluid. Family.

Conflicted.

I just feel like there are quite a few places that are welcoming havens for our little family ... and we're pretty far from all of them.

Having a child and not working is a very different life. I don't meet people all the time, and it's not like we go to happy hour or things like that. I've never been so isolated in my life and most days it's fine. Most days I am so wrapped up in school, shopping, cooking, gym, dog, life ... that I hardly notice the big space that used to be filled with so many friends. So much family. Yah, every once in a while I feel lonely and the phone just doesn't cut it. We can't really move until we do a ton of work on this house and we've decided to be here for at least a few more years. Then Rio'll be in school and so we have to try to plan life around a move and if/when/how that impacts her and even looking down the road is so freaking complicated.

How did we get here? Where are we going? Who is this new me?

over...

over...

*Over Stimulated
Life has been insanely busy of late. I feel like summer is coming and that's good. I've got Rio in a once a week dance class ... and that's it. We have a zillion little trips planned and I'm enjoying my new job and we have all been so tightly scheduled that I resisted the urge to sign her up for more stuff. I feel sorta guilty but as a mom I'm finding that it's pretty normal. If I'm going to second-guess myself, at least I'll have the proper amount of time to do so.

*Over Educated
My darling little sister took her last exam at 9:30 pm. While I've thoroughly enjoyed (drip sarcasm drip) learning all about the communication styles of different cultures and learning all about global warming and the shrinking polar ice caps thanks to my ridiculous offer to proof all paperrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrs, I am ready to stop having homework. She got an 86 on her final exam, a 95 on her global warming paper. Sunday she'll be walking in a ceremony celebrating the fact that here, in the land of opportunity, you can spend tens of thousands of dollars, get a degree, and still be essentially clueless. I say that with tongue in cheek and the fond memory of when I was 23 and still knew everything. Congrats, V, no one is more thrilled than I that this chapter is complete. I'm proud of you darling girl.

*Over Scheduled
Work. Work. Housework. Work. V's work. Bear's work. School. Committee. Gym. Work. Dog. Laundry. Work. I need to get a handle on things. I haven't had enough me time lately. Or any, really. When we get back from Wisconsin I think I'll head to VT for a few days of R&R. I need to recharge the batteries and something tells me a week with my extended family in WI/IL isn't going to be too restorative. But it should be interesting...

last conversation with random family member:

me: [dials number my father called me from] Hey dad.

male voice: Dad? Who's this?

me: Your firstborn, dumbass.

mv: I don't have a girl ...

me: Oh, so sorry. I thought I was phoning my father. Is he available?

mv: You don't know who this is, do you?

me: Nope. Sorry.

mv: It's your cousin James*!

me: Oooh, hi James! Long time! How have you been?

mv: How have I been? What's the matter? No one told you I was doin' time?

Yup. Should be biiiiig fun.

*Overjoyed
Rio is just so much fun right now. I'll be better about posting for you, Peachy;) But today we took a nap together which is a singular joy. And she's in the habit of late of dressing up and asking me, "May I have this dance?" which about slays me and probably explains why I'm super good at 'Princess Ballerina Twirls' and super far behind in workworkwork!

*Over Served
Happy Birthday Meredith! We had a girl's night out with her friends who are all, without exception, smoking-hott-wicked-fun-charming-hilarious women. It was soooo fun! I got picked up by my other mom friend, C, who kept saying, "Have another! I'm driving!" and so I kept having another.

Today sucked donkey balls. I had a great plan to come home from dropping Rio at school and go back to bed but I had a 30 minute conference call for workworkwork that went until 3 minutes before school got out. I'm hurtin'. But! It was literally so much fun that I have a girly love buzz paving over my hangover.

Also, I found a pill in the bottom of an old purse and I took it and whatever it was really helped me feel better.

:)

seriously?

seriously?

My darling MIL retired. It ain't pretty. And! I was just getting ready to hang up my posting pen here at AMA, when I got an email demanding more reading material because she now has time to read.

I shall obey. And post more. But not today. I'm up to my eyeballs making sure my cherished sister graduates college everrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

So, I leave you with a 'seriously' ...

IKEA* - seriously?

*thanks to Ian who could make a potty joke out of a Pope's speech.

oral hi-genie

oral hi-genie

There are two reasons I know I'm one hundred years old.

#1.
I rode the carousel with Rio on Friday. Three times. She fears the horses (and I'm thrilled the up and down on a pole gives her cause for concern) so we rode the carriage. Three times. She totally could have gone allll day, but I got motion sick. In the carriage. I'm officially old.

#2.
Meals are drawn out ordeals with Miss Rio. That kid is the slowest eater everrrrr. After a prolonged lunch, we had ice cream cones. She had chocolate chip with chocolate sprinkles.

[one hour into eating the cone, a nice old man sits at the table next to us]

rio: 'Scuse me, (points with her pinky and one eye closed) what's your name?

old man: Roland!

[long story short. he tells her a story about his grandson, she laps the cone and half ignores him. he continues with stories about kids and his kids when they were young, and he ends up telling a tale that cracks him up. he laughs and exposes a mouth of, um, not a shining example of oral health. one in the front is missing, and the rest are summer teeth; some are pointing this way, some are pointing that. all are the bright yellow of a summer sun.]

rio: 'Scuuuuuse me, Roland. Why do you have cavities?

me: sotto voce Hey buddy. Don't ask that again and we'll talk about it in the car. Okay? Please don't say 'cavities' again, okay?

rio: 'Scuuuuse me, Roland. Do you brush your teef? Do you ffffffffffffffffoss?*

*As she struggles with certain complicated sequences, she sometimes draws out the stumbling block. So 'floss' becomes 'fffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffoss', which gives me an extra 4 seconds or so to die a thousand deaths. But that's okay, because, you see, Roland wasn't really paying attention to Rio and her 'fl' struggles...

roland: Oh, hohoho, she's so adorable.

me: thanking the deaf gods Oh, she's something.

roland: You're not so bad yourself, you know. In fact, you're a real looker. You know what that is?

me: Oh, heh. Yes, I'm familiar with the concept.

roland: soldiering on in his deafness A looker means when you walk past men, they look at you.

me: Have a nice day, Summer. C'mon Rio, you can finish that in the car.


Motion sick on a carousel and hit on by a deaf bum. What a day.

Help A Sista Out

Help A Sista Out

You are more than welcome to read to the bottom of this post to see why that's the title. In the meanwhile, I'd like to ask you a favor. Pretty big one. Click here. She's having a contest and I could win a blog design. Don't be a poopy-head and take the link and get your own free blog design because I will drop my kid in your front yard and then call animal control on your triflin' ass. Just click. Why? I'll tell you.

TOP TEN REASONS I NEED A NEW BLOG

1. I have a really great name saved, but I'm not motivated enough to start writing on it. It's really good. Great, even. And if I end up one of the bloggers who gets an amazing book deal and then I tour with James Frey and end up all hammered at YOUR local pub, I will totally call you. Promise.

2. Have you noticed how badly I effed up this one? Seriously. And I totally can NOT put things back the way they were. I'm a techtard.

3. It's free. I have to save all my monies because my daughter is so cute I dress her up all the time. Mostly, she's soooo neat. She hates things on her hands - so she wipes everything on her belly. It's darling. And expensive.

4. Bear forgot my birthday. And he gave me a tractor for Mother's Day last year. He said it was a coincidence. If that's true, he forgot Mother's Day, too. So I need a present.

5. Everyone in my house is sick. I've been doing laundry, grocery shopping, making soup ... oh, I'm sick, too. But I guess that's scheduled for when I'm 50.

6. Which is kind of soon.

7. Yellow is supposedly going to be big this summer. I look horrible in yellow. So, if I have a cool new blog to inspire me to write on my cool new site, I won't have to make people vomit in the street with how I look in yellow.

8. Okay, um, I just need it, okay? It's not like I'm asking for a kidney. Which reminds me ... I'm totally thinking of joining the kidney bank. Does anyone else think medication might be a good thing for me?

So, just click. Visit. Maybe have her do *your* blog. Me likey her stuff!

***

We were at my darling Anna's house. Rio starts going upstairs to chase down The Daughter, who is 7 and fabulously kind. TD starts to come downstairs to see Rio and Rio pops a squat on the stair, pats the one next to her, looks up at TD and says:

Have a seat, TD. What's up, sista?

***

I have a friend, Rina, with a great booty. Genetic, methinks. She came over to see us in VT. Rina's having coffee at the breakfast bar - fetchingly perched on a barstool. Rio walks around Rina two or three times. She's looking at her butt; looking under the stool; she ran a toy across the faboo booty. Then she gets over to the side of Rina and says:

Excuse me, Rina. You have a biiiiiiig butt!

***

A lovely woman who's smack in the middle of the whole transgender process was attending the same luncheon to which some fool invited me and my lippy 3 year old. Rio checks her out for a loooong time. Finally she says:

rio: I don't paint my nails.

me: [thinking 'here we go'] No, you don't. You still suck your fingers so until you don't suck them anymore, no nail polish!

rio: Maybe I'll paint my nails when I'm a grown-up boy.


Yeah. Maybe you'll just plain take pity on me and catapult me to click greatness. You know, before I end up getting smacked....

eyeballs, up-to, and what-not

eyeballs, up-to, and what-not

Yeah.

*I broke up with my mom. Again. It's serious this time. She questioned my parenting. Them's fighting words. And fight we did. Oh well.

*My new job continues to fascinate and challenge. I really like it! I'm having a tough time scraping 20 hours a week together, and my house looks rather tenementesque, but I really do like it! The job, not the slovenly way of life....

*I made a little wager with my darling little sister. She's gotten into the bad habit of not working out ever, and complaining, well, pretty much always. It's snuck up on her - much like the 4 remaining papers she has between her and graduation. So, I'm helping her with the last papers. And all she has to do is work out 5 times a week and not complain about it. If she drops the ball (or whines about it) and still wants me to help her, she'll need to pony up big bucks. I'm telling y'all now that I will take her money and buy risky stocks for Rio. :)

*I'm going to Stowe for a bunch of days. Rio and I have been bouncing a virus back and forth, and our travel plans are all screwy, so we're just gonna ignore the calendar and go for it. I can't wait! Although I always start to miss Bear as soon as we hit the highway, I need to recharge my batteries.


*Bear and I have been sleeping horridly for months. Our fabulous and comfy bed hit the wall so freaking fast. At first it was less cushy, but it made the rapid descent into flop house mattress. We finally did something about it. 1-800-MATTRES gets my unsolicited eternal adoration. Those peeps mofo KNOW BEDS. Every bizarre angle and bit of info. We ended up with the Sealy knock-off Tempurpedic. I forget why, but some sort of wicking technology that the Swedes are lacking ... anyway, we got two. XL Twins. Why, you ask? Because they're foam so you can't really tell that it's two mattresses. And, because, we got these extra special platforms:because they were totally on close-out sale. You see, company blahblahblah is now sourcing the motors in China blahblahblah and so they have blahblahblah left at this super close-out price blahblahblah blahblahblah blahblahblah .... feel me?

So, yeah, up and down beds. Not just for the elderly.

I hope.

mother of the year continues to elude

mother of the year continues to elude

I was so thrilled my in-laws requested a sleepover with Rio starting this afternoon, with a brunch in Ct on Saturday for pick-up. But. My father-in-law is sick. Sick enough to have a doctor's appointment today. Do I feel bad for him? Hell, no! Instead of working in blissful silence, and not leaving the house except for a planned movie night out of the house in the theatre with real loud noise and greasy popcorn.... instead of all that I get to keep on keeping on with Mom duties.

By 6:45 tomorrow I must prepare a cultural dish and flags that represent Rio's heritage. Namely:

*Lithuanian
*Irish
*English
*Scottish
*Welsh
*Dutch
*Spanish
*Mexican
*Native American
*French

I'm thinking of bringing a ratty afghan that's made with all the crazy colors. Oh, and maybe some Taco Bell, potato chips, and blood sausage shishkabobs. Sprinkled with peyote, mais oui.

That kid is lucky she's not polka-dotted, she's such a mutt.

reason #4,116,711 i'm buring in hell

reason #4,116,711 i'm buring in hell

This morning, on the way back from dropping the Princess of Lip at school, I heard an NPR bit on the upcoming 'Miss Landmine Pageant' and I did not have one single thought that was mildly acceptable. When I get on overload I get inappropriate jokes flying through my brain. I'm the worst at funerals ...

The reality is one of those things that is at once so beautiful it restores your faith in humankind while it speaks loudly and clearly to the evil that lurks.

Watch that stupid Hater Mills-McCartney try to get in on it ...

crazy

crazy

Yeah. She got me on the telephone today. My mother. She calls and then fakes like she was asleep. It is soooo fun.

Today's nuggets? In the space of one conversation she shared that she now has fibromayalgia, a bean-sized dark spot on her brain that is a stroke, more work than she can handle, no money, and the best stress test her doctor has ever seen.

Oh, and she smokes and eats a stick of butter and two meats with every meal including breakfast.

Baby switches happened a lot more in the 60's, right?