Monday, August 17, 2009

What is wrong with me?? Part Two

Well, that didn't work well at all. I really need more will power.

Just caught myself browsing the Costco online book store--in the juvenile section. Oh the humanity! No judging, you hear me?!

If you happen to see me tomorrow (gulp, today) please remind me that I'm not 13, that I have to work for a living, that Robert Pattenson is really not Edward--not to mention that while he IS dreamy, Edward still is a vampire-not really the kind of guy you want to bring home to mother if you get my drift. Oh, and please nudge me if you catch me sleeping at my desk.

You're all really just too kind!

What is wrong with me??

Must. Resist. Urge. To watch Twilight again. For the 9th time this weekend. I only wish I was kidding.

When I was watching it last night for the first time while MD and P were at a baseball game I had to set a timer so I wouldn't forget that G. was in the shower.

Oh crap, too late...

Thursday, August 13, 2009


While I was in my hometown for my high school reunion we stayed at my parents' house. Saturday afternoon before the big festivities I decided I needed some, ahem, foundation items to help "lock and load" everything in my dress, so my mom and I hustled off to Macy's. Naturally this took longer than expected, so I was running late (big surprise). As soon as I got back home I zipped into the guest bedroom to grab my dress from the closet. Mentally I was already three steps beyond getting my dress and in a very distracted way I whipped open the half-closed door to find my father sitting in the closet playing his hand-held Yahtzee game. Yes, you read that correctly. My 68 year old father was sitting in the closet playing Yahtzee.

I gasped and said, "um, I came to get my dress???" Dad told me MD had taken it downstairs already and then he started pull the door closed a bit. Now wait just a minute. At this point several things were racing through my mind--

  • You just scared the dickens out of me.
  • WHAT on earth are you doing??
  • Has the Alzheimer's set in??--I always thought we'd have more time...
  • Has mom banned you from playing your travel Yahtzee game when you're at home??
  • You have clearly lost your ever loving mind.
  • WTF??
  • Really?

I took in the scene and managed to cough out something like "what are you doing?" And then in the span of those 5 seconds he went from crazy to brilliant... "I'm playing hide and seek with G." Well played, well played indeed.

Now in a normal person's world this would be the end of the story. But such is not the case in my world. Because I then went downstairs to find my 5 year old, the seeker in this game of hide and seek sitting on the couch watching TV with her brother. As soon as I said, "Aren't you supposed to be playing hide and seek with grandpa?" She clapped her hands together, said "Oh yeah!" and jumped off the couch to continue the game.

I think if I hadn't intervened they might still be playing--with one in the closet upstairs and one on the couch downstairs.

Monday, August 10, 2009

20 Years

So, after much debating, harrumphing, and deliberating, I finally decided to attend my 20 year high school reunion. It was quite a process, and as a favorite cartoon character of mine recently stated (Satchel from “Get Fuzzy”) the whole thing made me a little “growly in my bowely.” It was as though 20 years hadn’t passed as I started to see Facebook comments about “having dinner with Jim” and “pre-funking at Mike’s house” I was thinking, “Why wasn’t I invited? Don’t they like me?” then I remembered, “Oh yeah, I don’t think I could pick these people out of a line up—which is probably why I’m not at their house.” I did find myself calling people a lot as I got closer to the event site-asking advice about what to wear, finding out who was already there, making sure I had someone to walk in with, and asking friends to save me a seat. Seriously, how much teenage angst can a 38 year old handle??

In all honesty, I think I planned things very well. The Friday night event started at 7, but since I didn’t want to pay $40 per person for beer I wouldn’t drink and food I’d be too nervous to eat, MD and I showed up at 9:45. Arriving this late had several plusses: the check-in table was closed (surprise, surprise the beer was completely gone by 9), people were all pretty sauced at this point, and everyone had their “executive summaries” of their lives all set, so the awkward pauses were almost non-existent. It was a win-win indeed.

There was something endearing about being with the people I grew up with, grew away from, and have since reconnected (minimally) with via FB, but really haven’t talked to in 15 years. I loved the moment when one of the guys a friend of mine dated back in the day admitted, “I wasn’t very mature about relationships back then.” Well, if it makes you feel better, Josh, I don’t think us driving by your house 50 times a night was very mature either, so let’s call it even. There was also a moment when I said to another guy while waving to his wife, “So how did you…” and before I could finish he said “…how did I get so lucky?” Oh man, those 20 years have served some of us very well.

Naturally there were highlights and lowlights, some were a combination of both—I’ll let you decide:

ð At some point I found myself dabbing Bath and Bodyworks’ “Sweet Pea” antibacterial gel on my wrists since I forgot to pack perfume.

ð For the first time in my life I closed a bar. Seriously. The waiter came over and said “last call” and I thought to myself “I’ve seen this on TV shows and in movies—who knew they really did that??” (Let me take a quick moment and answer that rhetorical question—everyone. Everyone else in the free world knows that waiters and bartenders really do that sort of thing.) Fifteen minutes later the bouncer came over and said, “we’re shutting this thing down” and I got a little giddy.

ð I had so much fun closing the bar Friday night, we did it again Saturday night. Evidently I’m making up for lost time.

ð Someone said I looked hot. (They were drunk, but hey, a compliment is a compliment. They also grabbed my ass later in the evening at which point I said, “OK, we’re all done here” and walked away.)

ð MD received several compliments—we all know if it was his 20 year reunion I would have either been complaining about being left in the hotel room with the kids or I would have had a sour puss face on all night while people I didn’t know reminisced with my husband telling stories about other people I didn’t know. Instead he socialized with friends he knew, chatted with the other spouses, kept me supplied with fresh waters brought cake from the buffet line to everyone at our table, and even stood in as “eye candy” for another friend whose husband was home with the kids.

ð My parents watched P & G—both nights. With very little complaining. As we were leaving on Friday night (at 9:30 PM) they were serving them ice cream sandwiches—not sure how that turned out, maybe the kids fell asleep moments before we hauled ourselves home at 2:30 in the morning.

ð Another person at the reunion was taking orders for the bar, I asked for water, the person next to me asked for water and we both looked at each other after she left and said, I don’t think we’re actually going to get waters. Well what do you know? The person came back with a horrible concoction and said, “quit your complaining we’re drinking this!” I took a sip and felt the delicate tissues in my throat instantly dissolve. We all wanted to know what it was, but she said we had to drink it first. (What are we in high school?) I took another sip, and noticed my drink benefactor was looking the other way so I tossed most of it over my shoulder and onto the grass. She seemed please to notice the bulk of my drink was gone, and everyone else had dutifully drank theirs so she told us what she had bought. It was a magical, delightful combo of Rock Star and a shot of tequila. Yes friends you read that correctly—Rock Star energy drink and our old pal tequila. Because what I want at 1:30 in the morning is to be drunk AND wide awake. Of course my other friends busted me for pouring out the drink, I got hassled, “that was $40 worth of shots” and I felt I had to reply, “yeah, but I asked for water.” Why do people do that? Let’s be clear—I’m happy to be around people who are drinking, I just don’t like the taste and I really don’t like how I feel after drinking, so I choose not to. Me not drinking is in no way a judgment or reflection on someone else’s decision to drink. However, others seem think if you’re not drinking either A. you’re not having any fun or B. they need to pressure you into drinking. It’s a mystery, and even after 17 years (Oh, OK, 23 years) of being around peers who drink I still haven’t figured it out.

So there you have it folks. I’m sure there are other things I have already mind-bleached away, but you can consider yourselves all caught up for a bit.

Take care,