...for a different kind of girl

silent surburban girl releasing her voice, not yet knowing what all she wants to say about her life and the things that make it spin. do you have to be 18 to be here? you'll know when i know.

Friday, March 30, 2007

i think, therefore, you think, too...or something like that

the kind men behind desmond's place and restoring the covenant recently included me among their selections in their “thinking bloggers award” tag, and honestly, i’m quite flattered to have been even considered, let alone chosen. if nothing else (though, obviously, i think it more than "nothing"), it helps me realize that all that noise i hear in my head, the stuff i think only i’m thinking about and yet sometimes gets spilled out onto the internet for others to read, perhaps resonates with someone.

trust me, as much as i love them (you might say, yes, i have a girly boner for them…), it’s not all kick ass racks, bullets and all things 80s that i obsess on. ok, sometimes (i’m talking to you, bullets) they are among the things that make me the most happy and therefore think about a lot, but then i click around the blogworld and hook up with some other amazing people who make me happy, as well.

many of the obvious have already been named in other people’s entries. for example,
ftn – whose site I lurked at for so very long before raising my hand and joining the discussion, because it is 3/4ths of your grade – would be an obvious choice for my list for he pretty much has me considering all things having to do with world peace, the plight of orphans in africa, The Sex, what i can personally do to curb the onslaught of global warming and panties. not necessarily in that order. he’s tremendously funny and appropriately self-deprecating, and i think if we met in person, we might realize without ever saying a word who the other one was.

because my raging girly boner and “i 'heart' mike rowe” shirt would give me away, of course.

the two gentlemen who chose me make me happy and willing to pontificate, as well.
desmond charmed me the moment i “met” him when i was ceremoniously chosen to participate in ftn's real blogger world. When i "moved in” i barely knew any of my fellow participants, but i learned quickly that desmond rocks the marriage thing like no other. the man is devoted to his wife and his family and to his faith and i admire those qualities like no other. i read his writing – when he can now – and often go back and read it again (and again) because i learn something new each time. either about him or about faith or whatever strikes his fancy. he’s charmingly funny, terribly sweet in his replies and because of him, my kick ass rack has it’s own acronym, KAR ™. Come to think of it, he was also the first to pick up on the girly boner issue…hmmm…

recovering soul at "restoring the covenant" is a newer read for me. rs gamely stepped out, gladiator style, and dared take me on in the back and forth “bad video/song” challenge. see what a little debbie gibson will do for you?! while no one was declared an actual “winner,” i may or may not be walking around my house right now sporting a jaunty sash and crown of my own making trumpeting me as the rightfully victorious master (with a bit of help tossed in from rs’s wife, therese, who realizes also that men can and will cave at an ugly sweater and shoes). i’ve been exploring rs’s site more and he’s also a brutally honest writer (as is therese) as he discusses the ramifications of their marriage following infidelity, and how they are working together to strengthen what i imagine is a pretty amazing family after the fact. and when in doubt, you can count on him to pop off a lyric for you (but i’m still the queen. just sayin’…).

so, i am going to include in my list five writers who i’ve come to admire and think of as friends in hopes that, if you haven’t read any of them before, you may consider doing so. like the writers i’ve already listed, these selections may have already been included elsewhere, but the blog world, despite it’s vastness, sometimes feels rather small, so we may all bump into each other around the block or at the grocery store.

before we start, there is apparently some guidelines to this effort, so please consider following along:

1. If, and only if, you get tagged, write a post with links to 5 blogs that make you think.

2. Link to this post so that people can easily find the exact origin of the meme.
3. (Optional) Proudly display the ‘Thinking Blogger Award’ with a link to the post that you wrote.

nanette at
underachieving mommy– i simply can’t say enough or adequately express how much i have come to love this woman. i think we’ve both been blogging for roughly the same amount of time and how we stumbled upon the other is not important. what is important is that she’s one of the first places i go visit and if i could visit her in “real life,” i’d probably be at her house all the time and she’d be making up excuses to leave the room and scream into a pillow, or calling friends, begging them to call her back in two minutes and feigning an emergency. when i read her, i’m laughing, nodding my head and wishing she were actually in the room with me so i could tell her how great i think she is. entrenched in utah but not a mormon, the mother of twins, smart as heck (seriously – check out her profile for her degree), beautifully opinionated, and perhaps willing to allow me a brief fling with john taylor, she’s the real deal. i want to be her neighbor. seriously.

j at
j under covers – ah, truly, if i could have a brother, i’d ask whoever i had to ask to make sure i could have one like j. i want him to be the luke to my leah. but probably without that awkward "star wars" chemistry (ok, so i’ve seen his “stuff.” we’ve made a pact not to talk about it should our paths ever get crossed and we meet for a drink. i’m pretty sure we can handle that. we’ll just talk in random song lyrics and television dialogue to break the ice!). i met j last fall as i stumbled around blogs, and immediately dug him. we like much in the way of the same music – seriously, i hang out at his place many times on mondays when he ultimately adds to my ipod tracks - he bears a striking resemblance to rivers cuomo from weezer, so that’s tres cool, he has stepped up and offered his assistance even when he barely knew me. he’s appropriately snarky and very smart, so i appreciate he has that advantage over me, and he’s an amazingly devoted husband, and it’s refreshing to read about marriage really falling into place nicely from a man’s perspective. truly a good guy.

nocturnal+tendencies – i hope when i say that this site is simple but never simplistic that makes sense. before i truly became aware of the man behind the work, i’d visit nocturnal’s site for the imagery, the thought behind it and the music. seriously, i’ve watched him play drums there with my jaw a bit dropped. it’s a decent look for me, so i’m ok with that. but back to this site. you can find just about any thought there – pure randomness to questions of authority – presented in such a succinct nature that, as a former editor, i admire and yet find unable to do. which is why i’m glad, through osmosis or whatnot, i learned about him. often, i leave there with a perplexed look on my face and have to think about things before i ever respond. and, of course, as is the case with my other choices, a nice guy behind the scenes.

finished last – i may be wrong and short of going back to september when i started my own blog to research it, i think this truly nice guy behind finished last was one of the first people among the handful who read my blog and comment on it. before long, we had struck up a very honest line of communication. i admire greatly that he is someone taking a hard, honest look at his life and then having the guts to share it with us. i’m not sure i could do that in some avenues of my life, and i like to think i’ve been quite honest with everyone who comes here. when we first “met,” finished last pretty much told me he was an open book, and when i peppered him with questions, he didn’t back down. i respect what he’s doing in his life, wish him success, and routinely check on him as he opens up to all of us.

artful dodger at
the secret brain – i think it’s fair to include a newer addition to my regular reads. i’m still discovering this writer, but what i’ve dove into so far often makes me laugh and definitely think. perhaps a few other things. i love a clever writer, and i find art quite truly clever, and very honest. plus, as a girl who appreciates humor and talent because she struggles with that ability, i often enjoy clicking through art’s work so i can watch the rotating display of his blog headers. a beautifully clean site – though not necessarily always “clean” content, fyi – i find much about it that provokes me to linger.

i read many people (and were i not “link stunted” you’d know that), but i reserve most of my return trips to the assorted writers who have truly struck me, in one way or the other, since i started writing last fall. the above and many others not listed never fail to make me think. there are writers i wish i could include on my list who have ceased writing for whatever reason, but i hold out hope they’ll one day return. that i feel i’ve developed friendships with these people humbles me. as does how nice people have been to me.

Tuesday, March 27, 2007

like a high school keg party, but in your driveway

i realize this is going to come as a huge surprise to all of you, but i wasn't a member of the popular clique when i was in high school.

i know. shocking, isn't it?! oh, sure. the kick ass rack, still in its adolescent stages, held it's allure, but trust me. i was very much the female equivalent of
brian johnson.

("well, in physics we...we talk about physics, properties of physics.")

i was a brain/basket case always on the cusp of being kinda cool, just a hair away from legitimately hanging with the princesses and the jocks, but spending most of my time with the criminals (who were the most fun despite the anxiety i had about associating with them then).

being popular wasn't really my goal for high school. in all honesty, it was simply easier being the brain/basket case.

easy enough that i've opted to retain that title in my adulthood.

("uh, excuse me, fellas? i think we should just write our papers.")

however, growing up and becoming an adult doesn't mean you can leave the clique arena behind. i realized this week that, for me, it has simply transferred from high school to my happy little cul-de-sac.

the arrival of spring means my neighbors have emerged from the caves they nested in all winter. after a few deep stretches and belly scratching (god please, let that have just been a belly scratch hairy neighbor did a second ago...) the street transforms into the love boat and the neighborhood cruise director is already hosting lots of gatherings on the lido deck that is his driveway. garage doors stay up, lawn chairs pop open, perhaps a boom box is cranked, and beer flows as the circle of mischievous jocks and princesses partake until the sun sets. they talk loudly as they get a tiny bit drunk, and perhaps remember to pay half-eyed attention to their future criminals as the younger set wreaks havoc under the street lamps.

and i sit out in my yard (the equivalent of the back row of saws in shop class, let's say) and i watch. because we
don't drink, don't smoke, we were pretty quickly disqualified from the social gatherings within a matter of weeks of moving here. summer nights mean miller time here. drive down our street on trash day and you'll note the players by the empty beer cases tucked jauntily in the recycle bins. apparently, we don't look like the millers.

(an aside - i'm not against drinking. i quite enjoy a drink here and there. but i have been known to then have quite a lot of sex after having quite a lot to drink, so i save these periods for special occasions such as birthdays and holidays and not spread it around the neighborhood, all willy nilly like)

("yeah, but it was only...was only because i didn't want her to know that i was a virgin, okay?")

tonight's gathering included the following members of our neighborhood clique -

  • the foreign exchange student - years here, but still with the distinct yet unplaceable accent. a laugher, the foreign exchange student is always willingly accepted into the fold because you just assume that in a year, they'll be gone so it doesn't matter what you do to them. this isn't the case in a neighborhood clique, of course, but by now it's accepted.
  • the stuck up girls - these are the girls who were princesses in high school. talking to the serfs was a chore, so they simply didn't. this is a trait they've held onto, so there will be no waving as our minivans pass on the street. should you accidentally make eye contact in the grocery store, let their spontaneous yet intent study of the various cartons of yogurt serve as your signal that there will be absolutely no pretend prattling.
  • the "out to stud" jocks - past their prime, these men will get an occasional wild hair (usually after plenty of miller lite) when someone grabs a basketball or football and they'll kick their bravado into overdrive. loud, never empty-handed (the cooler they carry over serves as an extra chair if need be) and often married to the stuck up girls. after a game or a lull in the conversation, they'll pick on someone who dares drive down the street just a bit too fast.
  • the neighborhood spicoli - his passive/aggressive/passive nature makes him a time bomb of fun. this is someone you only see during the evenings as he saunters out, barefoot and bleary-eyed, from whatever it was he was doing in his basement prior to the siren's call of the first pull-tab.

ok, i admit it. i read this and it sounds like i might be pining to be a member of my suburban neighborhood's popular clique, and sure, for a time, we attempted an allison reynolds makeover so we could comfortably hang with the jocks and the princesses. but we gave up when it became clear some cliques can't be busted up or into. when it was over, we didn't consider each other friends. when you move into a neighborhood, like in high school, you just deal with what you've been given.

and that's fine, because honestly? i'm pretty happy as the dweeb.

("you see us as you want to see us...in the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions.")

and yes, i just gave myself a smiling, self-congratulatory punch on the arm.

further cementing that dork status, of course.


Sunday, March 25, 2007

today is the greatest...

this weekend officially goes down as one of the most glorious 48 hour periods we have had in our area of the world in some time.


if gorgeous seemed appropriate enough a description.

today was the type of day you want to tuck inside a decorated box as the sun sets so you can pull it out every few minutes to peek inside as a reminder that yes, something this glorious does actually exist.

we've been taunted by such wonders for a bit now. temperatures that have teased us just enough to prompt us to poke our noses out the door and journey out sans jackets. today, as we hit a high of 81, the thought of jackets and gloves became (fingers crossed) a memory, and short sleeved shirts (hopefully) become the norm.

this weekend a brief rain shower reintroduced us to green grass and tulips aching to burst out from softened ground. windows thrown open raised the sound levels outside as kids raced the streets on their bikes and scooters. i caught my first hint of a barbecue tonight as the neighbors dined alfresco.

i also reaffirmed the working condition of our doorbell as neighbor kids made 15 minute rounds over the course of four hours to see if my absent sons could come out to play.

that's right. the day was made even more pleasant by the fact that i languished on my deck, silent and alone aside from the wind and 16 different trips to the front door to gaze down at yet another dirty little boy found ringing my doorbell. today was a reprieve from the dwindling hours of spring break togetherness. i could have left the house. done something decadent and deserving.

sometimes you just shouldn't, though. sometimes you should just take it in.

and i'd like to tuck that part of things away in my decorated box as well. to peek at from time to time as a reminder to stop and enjoy. to think "can't wait for tomorrow."


if gorgeous seemed appropriate enough a description.


Friday, March 23, 2007

'i love you period. do you love me question mark'

to whom it may concern,

  • cute guy who came to my register wednesday night. thanks for the conversation and charming grin. when you stopped and turned back to visit with me more, it made my night. call it lame, but i probably would have talked to you the rest of the night about the spring rainstorm we had that morning. leaning over the counter to bring us closer. and when you asked if i'd been outside recently, i was struck immediately with this idea that i'd chuck the break i was covering and head out the door with you. you were utterly adorable, what with your cute haircut and big old grin. seriously. then the sheen from your perfect skin glinted off the diamond on my left hand and i was suddenly "oh...yeah...heh...." but either way, i'll remember those six minutes we spent together for a long time, romeo.
  • props to you, spring break. you haven't been as bad as i was anticipating. i know, i know. you told me to give you a little bit of credit, and honestly, i was doubting you from the beginning. "you're such a fatalist," you told me more than once when i tried to goad you into an argument. "can you blame me?" i cried. but the weather has been interesting, the kids have been good and we've all been happy. the crying was minimal, the questions were deflectable. after a quick assessment, i'd say we all came out of these 10 days together unscathed. but don't try to sell me too hard on summer break just yet. let me bask in the afterglow of this week just a bit longer, ok?
  • mother nature, biology, the devil...whichever of you is responsible for me having my period twice this month, i hate you. oh, and trust me. that sentiment is pretty light considering you reared your forsaken head at me a mere two and a half weeks ago. i don't know what cruel joke you're trying to play or what corner you missed turning at to come back and ask for directions, but you suck. though, ok, thanks for not showing up at the start of spring break and starting the week off into what could have been a potential episode of "law and order"
  • wow. the blog world shows tremendous restraint. i'm pretty surprised no one asked to see a photo of me after my last entry. amazing. and a bit of a pity, too, really because with biology being the bitch it is (seriously! you were just here 21 days ago...), i'm probably going to be the new proactiv spokesperson this week. ok, i suppose it's best to leave the idea of my kick ass reality ingrained in your imaginations.
  • dove dark chocolate. i love you. plain and simple. i love you like the pretend me loves that cute guy from the store on wednesday night. i love you like i'm going to love that first hour of silence on monday when both boys are back at school. but wow, you're wrappers are pretty demanding. "do what feels right." "send a love letter this week." "send me a million dollars and no one gets hurt." geez. can't i just enjoy the silken chocolaty goodness as it melts on my tongue? do i really have to "be mischievous. it feels good"? because trust me, i probably could (especially with cute bookstore guy) but honestly, i'm having my period - a-freakin'-gain and for everyone involved, this spring break needs to cap off on a good note.

much love,


Wednesday, March 21, 2007

the whole is more than the sum of its parts

realistically, i know life is about numbers. we each have been given a finite inventory, but we often go about our days giving them little thought. from the moment the alarm goes off in the morning, we're in the midst, pulled out of the seven or eight hours we used to refresh ourselves.

they are there.

the television remote upon which you punch up the channel for your favorite program.

the money you pull from your wallet to pay the girl at starbuck's for your frappaccino, in which she has added two extra squirts of chocolate syrup because you've been coming in for months now and she knows what you like.

the calendars pulled out to set a date and time for a meeting.

the day that lies a few months ahead in that very calendar, a numbered square circled in red sharpie, that helps you tick by the minutes until you can take a vacation.

that barely scratches the surface, nor touches on the fact that numbers are also quite personal.

they are how we connect with others. the exchange of telephone numbers or addresses. celebrations of birthdays, anniversaries and milestone moments in life.

obviously, numbers are vital ingredients in our lives. that touch of something that, though we don't know it, we'd know it was missing right away were they not just ingrained in us. but sometimes, i'm quite taken with the interest (power, perhaps?) some numbers carry over others.

because i'm not a medical professional, nor do i work for the department of transportation, i have never asked someone what they weigh.

never in my life.

and yet, i'm surprised how often that very question is asked of women. maybe i'm more saddened than surprised, really. why? because whatever the number may be, there is usually a judgement attached to it. it has the potential (and please forgive the pun) to carry a lot of weight for some people, depending on whatever reason the question was raised.

before i go any further, let me answer the question that may now be in your head. i'm a healthy weight. a healthy person. i work out regularly. i sin occasionally. i grew up with and still today battle body image and food issues. a part of me is secretly glad i'm raising boys because i'm less inclined to pass these habits (sad quirks) onto them.

i've been better. i've been worse. i've been better again.

but i try very hard not to dwell on whatever my numbers are. i have no numbers in part because of what i wrote above. i also don't play the "let's guess that person's weight" game when it comes up (and believe me, it comes up in some company). i don't harp on appearances. sure, i'm going to compliment you when you look nice and i'll celebrate your successes if you're attempting to lose weight. but i tend not to speak up if the focus of the conversation becomes a paint by number dissection of your perceived flaws.

i also try really hard to simply like myself. because, honestly, for the most part, i do. i do have a kick ass rack (if you look deep enough in this blog, you'd discover my bra size, among other interesting numbers attributed to my quirks). i love my hands with scarlet painted nails at the tips. i think growing my hair longer was a smashing idea. my smile is a smirk when i give it to you, and i give it a lot. countless times. especially when i find you fascinating.

but those are outward physical traits and i don't want that to be the focus of what makes me happy about myself. so i also remind myself of the amazing things my body, in whatever its number, has done for me. i've experienced three pregnancies and given birth to two children through a gift i can still be amazed by. i can give and receive (and give some more) pleasure. i can roll around on the floor with my sons. i can roll around in bed. hell, i can even roller blade.

and i can get a bit dejected when the topic of weight and bodies and perfect numbers comes up in conversation (honestly, there's a part of me that's dejected just writing this, for some reason). i'm much more fascinated with who you are, how we interact and if we have a good time together than i am in what size pants you wear. i would hope you'd simply be the same with me.

i'm not unrealistic enough to not realize that many people, men and women, have their "ideal number," but the spotlight on the weight issue shines most blindingly on women. even "health" magazines are steeped with weight loss plans and diet tips, sometimes at the sacrifice of sharing ideas on how to "just be happy as you are." it would be nice if neither of those matters were truly important, but it seems certain the days for such thing are not numbered.

i don't hide myself from those of you who visit me here on purpose. you've had a glimpse (some of you have seen more and lived to tell) and have learned things about me that some people in my "real world" existence haven't a clue about. while drafting this entire entry, i debated putting a photo up as a means of "standing behind" what i'm writing. but i have a love affair with close ups and many of my photos are mere head shots, so i don't know if that counts.

but i might. at some point. the days seem numbered for such a thing, at any rate.


Monday, March 19, 2007

spring break - by the numbers

  • days at home with both kids - 10
  • days nearly complete - 4
  • kids expecting to be entertained, fed and entertained some more - 2
  • dogs serving as a portion of said entertainment - 1
  • basketball games played as of 1 p.m. monday - 2
  • score of last game - 210 to 3. funny how i never win these games.
  • traumas resulting in crying fits - 2. funny how i haven't been crying yet.
  • times i've had to raise my voice to be heard or listened to - 0
  • how i'd rate the shock i feel at the above confession, on a 1-10 scale - 10. week's still early yet, though, folks.
  • walks taken with above mentioned dog - 3
  • amount of time we've spent discussing dog and dog's quirky habits - lost count
  • questions answered about bugs, basketball and body parts - 5
  • the volume on kidz bop 11 when "lips of an angel"' played - 26
  • my personal hell, as rated on a scale of 1-10 on hearing 'lips of an angel' sung by kids - mathematicians and wizards have yet to formulate a number high enough
  • miniature pizzas made - 3
  • severity of burn on my lips upon first bite of said miniature pizza - 2nd degree
  • blisters raised by said burn - 2. damn you, hot cheese, and your molten goodness
  • minutes spent admiring my bloated, blistered, angelina jolie-esque lips after said burn - 15
  • number of brownies consumed - 2. funny how i never get any of those
  • movies watched - 1
  • number of times said movie has been previously viewed - 2
  • number of times i've expressed amazement that "wannabe" was used in "chicken little" - 20
  • number of times i'm going to ask people if they don't also find it odd that a song containing the line "if you wanna be my lover..." was used in a frenetic children's movie about a little chicken and his animal friends - 2. at least
  • number of times i've referenced the spice girls in blog entries - 2. maybe 3
  • "quiet times" mommy has taken today - 2
  • waves of quality goodness said "quiet time" has resulted in - 6. ok, more like 8
  • times i wished i had a laptop so i didn't have to watch "chicken little" again - 12. the movies longer than you think
  • emails i could have answered during said movie - 15
  • minutes i could have spent on a better, more thought-provoking blog entry. 20. i admit, magic like this doesn't always just pour out of me
  • promises i'll try to do better soon - 1. ok, maybe 3

* props to rug's bug for the inspiration (and the jealousy that she's on her final day of spring break! i'll get to your site as soon as i break free!)

** it would seem the boys around here think they can defeat me, but like a proper queen bee, i'll wear them out soon enough. to be safe, i suggest they keep their eyes open unless they wish to fall victim to my powers so easily. however, i kind of hope they do, for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is my desire to say what a shame. **

Friday, March 16, 2007

life's a bummer when you're a hummer

"hey mom?" sweet angel boy, five precious years on this earth, queries from the backseat of the mini as we pull into the library for story time thursday night.

the parking lot is full, so i'm keeping a watchful eye on things as i glance quickly in the review mirror and eye this amazing gift of a child.

"yes, sweets?" i reply.

"you like hummers, don't you?" he asks.


did i say that already?

utterly so.

"don't you, momma? you like hummers," he sings. "hummers, hummers, hummers!"

like pam from "the office," i find myself gazing forlorn and bewildered at myself in the rear view mirror now.

and then i spot the giant, pretentious, unnecessary in the suburbs hummer taking up two parking spaces in the parking lot.

"no, my love, i'm not particularly fond of hummers," i sigh. "not so much."

"that's too bad, mom, because i think the blue ones are my favorite," he answers.

as they should be when you're five.

as they should be.

* this one's not so bad, though.*

** ah, rs, you are a worthy opponent, but i believe this charmer has power. of course, consider it my initial blow. what's really going to take you down is this secret weapon. you wish to play with fire...well, you know the rest...**

*** sunday is supposed to be a day for rest. a warrior, however, never rests...

my next blow goes something like this.

what’s that? a tiny tear spilling down your cheek?

then i should probably celebrate...

if you need me, i'll be seated on the pile of the bloody and the dead, polishing my weapons...


Thursday, March 15, 2007

i'm the mayor 'round these parts

welcome to randomville. yeah, that's me, standing by the welcome sign, waving at you. as you enter, you're going to wonder why you're here, exactly. to be honest, i can't really tell you. maybe, like the person who unearthed this blog today with the search words "first boy to see my boobs," you're just drawn to the mystery of why i talk so much about my kick ass rack, but never show it off.

if such be the case, i hope you move here. because if you were to look in my windows today, you'd probably see the fabled rack. i'm sitting at the computer, half naked, as i write this. you'd probably never guess why, but i'd be curious your assumptions.

though you wouldn't be the first boy to see my boobs if you did so.

first stop here in randomville is a work story - last night, while shelving some titles near the childcare/parenting section, i totally got hit on. this makes me happy for two reasons. first, this event cements the cliche that people really do that flirting thing at bookstores (an aside, "we met at a bookstore" may or may not be the story my husband and i use when people ask how two people so utterly perfect for each other crossed paths and lit a fire of red hot passion that burns as bright today as it did the very first moment he laid eyes on my kick ass rack).

second, it proves my theory that, at least for the moment, i can think i was the hottest thing killing time in the barnes and noble last night. or that you can at least work with me here for a moment and think the same thing, people.

anyway, this very nice young man is hemming and hawing near the parenting books as i work in the aisle. because i have obvious
customer services skills, i asked if i could help him find something.

"oh, no. i'm just looking," came his patented answer.

i smiled, said if he changed his mind, i was there for him, and i went back to shelving. i barely had the comment complete when this comes from him.

"so today i got custody of my three kids and wow, it's a little overwhelming!"

because i used to pretend i was a psychologist when i was 10 (don't all kids?), i turned back toward him, smiled, and asked how he felt about that, and added i bet it was going to be an interesting time in his house for awhile.

"so i bet you've got your hands full," i stated.

"i have a boy and two girls, and i have to say, i'm pretty worried about the girls as they get older. i don't really know what to do with them. i mean, they need that female perspective. especially as they get older."

by now, he's right up next to me, fingers tracing the spine of a book on single parenting

"oh, how old are your daughters?" i asked.

"oh, they're 1 and 2," he said.

"well, the good things is you've got a few years to go before you have to fill them in on a lot of stuff," i replied while, at this point, looking for an out from this aisle. super dad would have none of that, though.

"yeah, but i'm worried about things like dating and boys and well, you know. 'girl things,'" he said, following me up the aisle. "do you have to worry about things like that?"

" 'girl things,' you mean?" i said, glancing down at myself to be sure. "well, heh heh. i guess i'm lucky there. i have two young sons, so i do understand the challenges of parenting. we do have an assortment of books on helping kids adjust to adolescence, as well as some really interesting books on single parenting. i'd be glad to help you search some titles out if you're interested."

"well, you know, i only have five bucks in my wallet right now," he sighed, getting closer to me still.

"parenting is a pretty costly venture," i offered in response. "so, since you just got custody of the kids today, are they here with you tonight?" (yes, it actually took me 15 minutes into the conversation to realize this man who had told me he was the sole provider of three very young children was out browsing a bookstore without said kids. overwhelmed by the flirting, i was)

"oh, no. they're with their moms," he said, complete with a little wink (i swear to you).

so i smiled, twisted at my name tag with my left hand in view, offered him my best wishes on his new life and suggested that if he was looking for relationship help as well, i could direct him to the self-help section.

"lots of women hang out there," i muttered as i walked away. "learning about that 'girl stuff' that becomes so important later in life. and they're probably hot for five bucks."

but honestly, i'm still of the thought that it's cool i got hit on.

second stop in randomville - still don't have much for clothes on. a look at the clock shows i should go take care of that soon. any guesses yet?

third stop - i'm getting a tremendous number of visits from china lately. a recent check indicated half of my day's visitors came from there. apparently, like most american celebrities, i'm huge in the asian market and i expect i'll be pimping watches and fine liquors in print and television ads there in no time. plus i'll be releasing an album.

fourth stop - on the drive to work last night, i actually sang and danced along in the mini to this song before i realized i had sunk into madness. obviously, i'm not a proud person, and i'll probably cover this tune on my import-only disc.

if only i could scold me.

final stop, and this is truly random - obviously, with the impending arrival of spring, the world has taken on a new air. crisp and clean with impending promise.

however, my yard apparently smells like nasty gym clothes and fetid mcdonald's french fries. sort of like the mini (though seriously, there has to be some kind of funk in it if it knocked me temporarily insane long enough to kick it to some debbie gibson). luckily, i discovered nature plans to abate the problem with this handy air freshener. and it's not just vanilla scented, mind you. it's vanillarama.

this and many other reasons will likely prompt you to want to move here to randomville. get here soon before real estate prices skyrocket. still opportunity to get in on the ground floor right here on my street.

where the women sit around half naked and the lawns smell of cookies.


Wednesday, March 14, 2007

me love you long time...

"you're just feeding me a line," i whispered, a demure smile creeping across my face. "keep it up and you'll nearly complete me."

"it's true," it teased, begging me to hold it closer. "you do look pretty. want to know why?"

"please..." i sighed.

"you consume me with such passion, and between you and me, it's kick ass that you match your nail polish to your couch."

swept away by such compliments, i had no other thought in mind but to see us reach a glorious and satisfying finish together. there upon the kitchen table. in the middle of the afternoon. with no thought of who was watching.

"come closer," i demanded as i grabbed at furled edges, finished with the begging. "after all you've given me...after making me feel such grand fullness, i have no other desire but to take you and fulfill all my cravings."

releasing the tip of my tongue from between my saucy lips, i traced it along my admirer's sweet, sugary folds. mocking it? perhaps. more likely i was showing it who was boss as i started nibbling along the curves with a tease before popping my biggest fan whole into my mouth.

"eh..." i relented. "like the line fed to me, you're a little stale."

* my utmost admiration and respect to ftn for giving me a reason to live...

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Sunday, March 11, 2007

please hammer, don't hurt me

friday night in the music department when the telephone rings.

"thanks for calling barnes and noble. how can i help you?" i answer, the smile on my face making my voice bright. that's right. you know i've got the mad customer service skillz.

"yes. i was calling to see if you had a cd in stock," replies the young woman on the other end of the line.

"i'd be glad to check for you. do you have a title or artist i can start the search at?"

"i do. i'm hoping you have mc hammer's greatest hits available."

for a moment, i pause. fingers over the computer keyboard, ready to type in her query, i don't even realize it at first when my first thought escapes me.

"wow. the hits were plural for hammer? there was seriously need for a greatest hits package?"

"um," the young woman replies, letting me know that when i do talk to myself, sometimes words and thoughts actually do spill out of my mouth. "perhaps you've heard of '
addam's groove'?"

"huh," i answer, letting her know she'd put me properly in my place. "consider me schooled, my friend. wait! consider me old schooled!"

"so?" she says, obviously not agreeing that i'm actually pretty kick ass to hang around with.

"ma'am, i'm sorry to say
i can't touch a copy of mc hammer's greatests hits cd in the store, but i can order you a copy."

while she considers it, i simply can't stop myself now.

if it's a problem, yo, i'll solve it" i say. "i can grab a copy of vanilla ice's disc for you!"

"yeeeaaah," mc hammer's last known fan says. "i'll have to think about that and get back to you."

"sorry we didn't have that for you," i answer, ending our conversation.

until inspiration hits me and i'm compelled to keep her on the line for just one second more.

"word to your mother!" i cheer, that ever-present telephone smile still on my face.

yes. i said that last part.

then made a note that i should know better. every thought that pops into my head (not styled in a high top fade, mind you) shouldn't jump out of my mouth.

'cause that's just wiggity wiggity whack.


Wednesday, March 07, 2007


...if you tell yourself something enough times,
you just may start to believe it.

case in point!
(btw? no way i'm disco dancing...)


Tuesday, March 06, 2007

well it's just a simple fact

opening the door joining my garage to the family room, i'm face to face with a scruffed up, hesitantly bouncing gentleman.

i smile warmly and it's returned by his own sheepish grin.

"why hey there, garage door repairman! how's it going out there?" i ask.

"sorry i didn't hear you knocking. i was busy sorting laundry in the laundry room right here. gotta make sure those whites and reds get separated, you know! no one wants a bunch of pink clothes!"

"great," the repairman replies. "um. listen. that coffee today is really going through me. ok if i use your bathroom?"

"oh. um. yeah, ok," i say. "there's a bathroom right here in the laundry room."

"great!" cheers the man, diving past me with the goal of bidding his coffee a fond farewell.

"yeah. great," i mutter quietly as the laundry room door shuts next to me.

"i'd appreciate it if you'd disregard the countless pairs of panties on the floor. especially the kicky buttery yellow pair. i was sorting laundry, you know."



Sunday, March 04, 2007

further proof the angels breathed life into our love...

"kiss me," i purr, sliding up the length of my husband's prone body, reuniting after two days lost from the other.

"you don't want this," he replies, turning his face ever so slightly away from my waiting lips.

"kiss me!" i beg, perfectly puckered, angel bowed lips millimeters away from his goateed chin and hands where hands should be during these types of encounters.

"um...really," he commands, his face turning hesitantly back toward mine, still tiny millimeters away.

"i just burped," he continues. "and it's bad. it's really, really bad."

i pause, a moment's rejection slipping across my face, angelic and eager.

then the reality of our relationship rears its gnarly fist back and goes for the punch.

"oh, my god!" i gasp, the breeze stirred up by his words of warning now hitting me square where i lay.

"dude! seriously!" i erupt. "it's like a small animal crawled into your mouth while you were sleeping and, unable to find it's way back out, had no recourse by to curl up and die in there. you're breath is freakin' evil!"

grins times two erupt. pushing myself up and off him, i'm left no recourse but to profess my affection through words alone.

"i strongly suggest you spend some time with the dental floss," i encourage. "make sure you get those stray pieces of fur and tiny bones."

how love sustains itself while holding my breath is amazing...

Friday, March 02, 2007

t(w)o children of the sun began to awake...

in the world of irony in which i reign (honestly, there can be but only one queen of ironyville, so bow before me now, my most loyal subjects...), here's the scene:

morning in the house. it's cold, windy and anxious because honestly, i'm pretty sure my worse fears are about to come true.

television remote pried away from the cold, steely grip of a five year old under the spell of baby looney tunes. quickly switch over to the local news station and three pairs of eyes transfix themselves to the scroll at the bottom of the screen, filled with countless updates of closings and delays that those of us here in pioneer village expect (good thing pa rigged the wagon and braved it to the general store for that new fangled peanut butter stuff a couple days ago).

then suddenly cheers erupt from one side of the throne room while slowly, accepting the defeat i knew was in the air, my own cold steely grip loosens and the remote slips from my hand, clattering to the pioneer cabin floor.

no school.

for the second day.

actually, for the third. monday was a scheduled day off before this blizzard hit my state like a crack whore with the nerve to try and steal from her connection.

that's right. the news is actually calling this a blizzard. i can't recall at any point in the recent past that i've braved an actual blizzard. but all the interstates are shut down. schools everywhere are closed. cripes, even the shopping malls (or town centers, as the uppity pioneers call their general store) are closed.

this is serious business, folks.

and my kids are taking it as such. up at the crack of dawn, they'll be in perpetual motion from now until they are led, pleading for their lives, to bed hours later today. so now it's my job to entertain them, and honestly, now three days into this conflict, this constant barrage for snacks and crayons and baking and games and forlorn cries of "we don't know what to do now," and the plaintive cries that signal either injury or madness, i'm at a loss.

beat. nearly defeated. i need my own snow day.

emphasis on "own."

because honestly, with the weekend looming ahead and the wind and snow still whipping around outside, i have to say watch out now...

my royal court will be spending their days with a woman unkind.

i just don't smoke the stuff, but damn if won't drink all the wine.

not to worry any of my cali contingency out there who may think i'd show up on their door after braving the elements to cross the prairie to get to them, but when you taunt me with your "lows in the mid 30s" and sunny skies, i'm damn tempted to book a flight and head straight to a beach.

except you can't get off the ground when you live in blizzardtown. so this song, which i always kind of dug, will have to suffice.

unless you really want me there. someone told me there was a girl out there with love in her eyes and flowers in her hair.