Why oh why do I always choose the holidays to reorganize the house? Right in the middle of decorating? Yes, I started last weekend. Shut it.
Actually, it’s the perfect time to tear the house apart because I’m already dragging everything out of the closets to get to the decorations anyway. AND what better time to go through the toys then right before we’re about to add some new ones? So really, it makes a lot of sense, no?
Peach and Olive are pros at the Keep/Pass game – we play it so often around here. Certain things I’ll keep forever no matter what, but, por ejemplo, they decided they were ready to let go of Strawberry Shortcake and her posse of fruit-flavored friends. Also, about seven blond Barbies are hitting the road – including the three that “talk,” praise Jeebus – them and the Volvo station wagon they rode in on. We’re left with Cinderella and Tinkerbell plus a multi-cultural rainbow of gals and, of course, the fabulous Ken. Peach is really my Barbie girl – Olive has this thing about doll hair, specifically blond, in that she says “it stinks” and it totally makes her gag. It’s the weirdest thing. She really cannot be around that “stinky hair” or she gags to the point of almost puking. Sweet Peach always warns her if a blond is coming out of the box, so she can busy herself elsewhere, but if it were me and my brother, back in the day? I would SO be using that to my advantage. He HATED Barbies, any Barbies, so evil little La Turista would chase the child down with them, line the doorway to my room with them, and once, even put some in his bed for a joke. I seem to recall Mama Turista not thinking it was so funny.
Anyway, we’ve got seven bags of stuff for the women and children’s shelter, two bags of stuff for the kids’ resale place, and a couple of bags for the book resale place. AND we may have a buyer for the piano. Long story. But now where in the hell are all my Santa lights going to go, hmmm?
November 19, 2009
November 5, 2009
Where’s Waldo
In this Age of The Internet, and especially the social networking explosion, I find myself wondering how it is that some people can still remain completely hidden from view. And I mean people who would seem to have some access to a computer or, at least, other human beings. I’m thinking specifically of people who were once part of my life and now I have absolutely no idea, not even a general sense, of how or where they are.
Obviously, as we go through life, our inner circles bend and even break over time. People move on, move away – but it would seem that that “thing” that brought us together in the first place still remains. Somewhere. Right? And it would seem that through common friends, places, or interests that we would have to cross paths at some point, virtually or otherwise. Right? It’s a small world after all.
I realize losing contact with people is a fact of life, but when I can find out in an instant what my second grade teacher ate for breakfast this morning, I would think I could find that girl I took ballet with for eight years who was destined for New York and The Great White Way. I mean, did she make it? And what about that guy I went to school with who said, every day, K-12, that he wanted to be President of the United States? Does he still say that? Because that’s the kind of guy that actually does it.
So random, I know. But T-Bone and I discussed this over beers at The Highball the other night, and I’m still trying to sort it all out. He, BTW, is on Facespace but is perfectly content to never update his status or request friends or do anything other than share music with his regular cronies. And even though I’m not on Facespace myself, I’m in regular contact with plenty of people who are, as well as many other living, breathing human beings, so if any of The Missing I’m thinking of really wanted to find me, they totally could.
Obviously, as we go through life, our inner circles bend and even break over time. People move on, move away – but it would seem that that “thing” that brought us together in the first place still remains. Somewhere. Right? And it would seem that through common friends, places, or interests that we would have to cross paths at some point, virtually or otherwise. Right? It’s a small world after all.
I realize losing contact with people is a fact of life, but when I can find out in an instant what my second grade teacher ate for breakfast this morning, I would think I could find that girl I took ballet with for eight years who was destined for New York and The Great White Way. I mean, did she make it? And what about that guy I went to school with who said, every day, K-12, that he wanted to be President of the United States? Does he still say that? Because that’s the kind of guy that actually does it.
So random, I know. But T-Bone and I discussed this over beers at The Highball the other night, and I’m still trying to sort it all out. He, BTW, is on Facespace but is perfectly content to never update his status or request friends or do anything other than share music with his regular cronies. And even though I’m not on Facespace myself, I’m in regular contact with plenty of people who are, as well as many other living, breathing human beings, so if any of The Missing I’m thinking of really wanted to find me, they totally could.
November 2, 2009
Blur
Friday, I awoke with what I thought was more of The Strep Throat, but it just turned out to be The Sore Throat with the Hacking Cough. Which the crisp night air at our block party did wonders for - by 10 pm, I was voiceless. But we met some cool new neighbors, and I was able, through sign language, to say how much we enjoyed having them all over.
Saturday, I took Peach to Nutcracker rehearsal and tied up some loose ends in preparation for Halloween and T-Bone’s birthday. After Mama Turista’s homemade cheese ravioli dinner, costumes were donned, and battle stations were manned. Peach was dressed as an obstetrician, with regulation scrubs, cap, stethoscope, and a newborn baby doll with the standard-issue hospital knit cap. Olive was a bumblebee, although she was very tempted to wear her pony costume from last year – apparently once a week, every week, is not quite enough.
We usually have quite a few trick-or-treaters, including some truckloads from points beyond the neighborhood, and this year was no exception. We ran out of candy around 8:30, but that didn’t stop the boldest of the bold from ringing and knocking until 10 pm. BTW, isn’t the International Sign for “No More Candy” a pitch-black porch? Thought so. And when did the ringing of the doorbell become accompanied by the immediate beating down of the door? Back in the day, we NEVER went to houses without porch lights on and we rang the doorbell ONCE, NEVER knocked on top of that, and LEFT after patiently waiting about 30 seconds. So what’s with all the urgency? Also, to those of you parents who insist on dressing up your babes in arms (fine) and strolling them around to “trick or treat” (please), I just have to say – really? We’re not giving out stacks of money here, y’all, it’s effing CANDY. Which, from the looks of things, many of you have a year-round relationship with anyway, so quit using your baby to extort Smarties from me and just calm the hell down. P.S. I love Halloween.
Sunday was T-Bone’s birthday – the Big One – and Peach and Olive made him breakfast in bed (cinnamon toast). I gave him a certificate for a Level Nine tour at Space Center Houston this spring. Fingers crossed, we’ll break bread with some real astronauts, for whom I’m sure he’ll have muchas preguntas. After that, Mama Turista and I ran some errands and went to see “This Is It” – which I LOVED. I wore one of my MJ pins even. Later, T-Bone and I met the Televisions for a joint birthday dinner at Lambert’s (meh), and stopped by The Highball* for drinks afterward (hoppin’ for a school night). The Boyz have big plans for Friday night (it’s Mr. Television’s birthday, too), after which I’m sure they’ll feel officially “in their 40s.” Lord knows I do, after this weekend.
* Note to Temperance Society girls – the fries and rings are now “reduced” to 7.50 a bowl. Think of the savings! And we saw Karrie having drinks with the chef and presumably discussing the difference between chicken and dumplings and matzo ball soup. Ahem.
Saturday, I took Peach to Nutcracker rehearsal and tied up some loose ends in preparation for Halloween and T-Bone’s birthday. After Mama Turista’s homemade cheese ravioli dinner, costumes were donned, and battle stations were manned. Peach was dressed as an obstetrician, with regulation scrubs, cap, stethoscope, and a newborn baby doll with the standard-issue hospital knit cap. Olive was a bumblebee, although she was very tempted to wear her pony costume from last year – apparently once a week, every week, is not quite enough.
We usually have quite a few trick-or-treaters, including some truckloads from points beyond the neighborhood, and this year was no exception. We ran out of candy around 8:30, but that didn’t stop the boldest of the bold from ringing and knocking until 10 pm. BTW, isn’t the International Sign for “No More Candy” a pitch-black porch? Thought so. And when did the ringing of the doorbell become accompanied by the immediate beating down of the door? Back in the day, we NEVER went to houses without porch lights on and we rang the doorbell ONCE, NEVER knocked on top of that, and LEFT after patiently waiting about 30 seconds. So what’s with all the urgency? Also, to those of you parents who insist on dressing up your babes in arms (fine) and strolling them around to “trick or treat” (please), I just have to say – really? We’re not giving out stacks of money here, y’all, it’s effing CANDY. Which, from the looks of things, many of you have a year-round relationship with anyway, so quit using your baby to extort Smarties from me and just calm the hell down. P.S. I love Halloween.
Sunday was T-Bone’s birthday – the Big One – and Peach and Olive made him breakfast in bed (cinnamon toast). I gave him a certificate for a Level Nine tour at Space Center Houston this spring. Fingers crossed, we’ll break bread with some real astronauts, for whom I’m sure he’ll have muchas preguntas. After that, Mama Turista and I ran some errands and went to see “This Is It” – which I LOVED. I wore one of my MJ pins even. Later, T-Bone and I met the Televisions for a joint birthday dinner at Lambert’s (meh), and stopped by The Highball* for drinks afterward (hoppin’ for a school night). The Boyz have big plans for Friday night (it’s Mr. Television’s birthday, too), after which I’m sure they’ll feel officially “in their 40s.” Lord knows I do, after this weekend.
* Note to Temperance Society girls – the fries and rings are now “reduced” to 7.50 a bowl. Think of the savings! And we saw Karrie having drinks with the chef and presumably discussing the difference between chicken and dumplings and matzo ball soup. Ahem.
October 29, 2009
I See Dead People
Y’all, is Kelly Rippa okay? Because I had the most realistic dream last night that she took a flying cell phone to the noggin and bought the farm right there. Regis was taking it really hard at the press conference. So sad. I could swear it was true, but the night before last, I had a dream in which three different mermaids (three!) told me I was pregnant, so, grain of salt and all that.
Anywho. Los muertos. Today was the annual Ghosts of the Past assembly at GGMS, and you had your usual suspects: Einstein, Galileo, Lewis and Clark AND Sacagawea, and, of course, Maria Montessori. Then there are always a few wild cards – sports figures I’m not familiar with, random inventors, and the odd musician (this year, we had Elvis, Johnny Cash, and a very nervous Michael Jackson. Sweet angel.). It’s quite a thing to see, I have to say.
After previously reincarnating my great aunt Ruthie, Rosie the Riveter, and Lady Bird Johnson, Peach made the next most logical choice for this year – John Muir. Of course. Not that she was the only transgender ghost, but she was certainly the only one with a giant Billy Gibbons beard. She handled it well, and I’m just sure everyone in that muggy auditorium was inspired, educated, and entertained by her portrayal.
What else? Well, in the next three days I have to prepare for, endure, and clean up after a neighborhood potluck I had the big idea of throwing at our house on Friday, the Great Halloween Extravaganza of 2009 on Saturday, and T-Bone’s Big 4-0 on Sunday, which mostly just involves dinner that night because he’s got Big Plans with The Boyz for the next weekend, which include AC/DC and Mojo Nixon and not ME. Which is good because I think I feel something coming on (NOT FLOOO! NOT FLOOO!).
Anywho. Los muertos. Today was the annual Ghosts of the Past assembly at GGMS, and you had your usual suspects: Einstein, Galileo, Lewis and Clark AND Sacagawea, and, of course, Maria Montessori. Then there are always a few wild cards – sports figures I’m not familiar with, random inventors, and the odd musician (this year, we had Elvis, Johnny Cash, and a very nervous Michael Jackson. Sweet angel.). It’s quite a thing to see, I have to say.
After previously reincarnating my great aunt Ruthie, Rosie the Riveter, and Lady Bird Johnson, Peach made the next most logical choice for this year – John Muir. Of course. Not that she was the only transgender ghost, but she was certainly the only one with a giant Billy Gibbons beard. She handled it well, and I’m just sure everyone in that muggy auditorium was inspired, educated, and entertained by her portrayal.
What else? Well, in the next three days I have to prepare for, endure, and clean up after a neighborhood potluck I had the big idea of throwing at our house on Friday, the Great Halloween Extravaganza of 2009 on Saturday, and T-Bone’s Big 4-0 on Sunday, which mostly just involves dinner that night because he’s got Big Plans with The Boyz for the next weekend, which include AC/DC and Mojo Nixon and not ME. Which is good because I think I feel something coming on (NOT FLOOO! NOT FLOOO!).
October 27, 2009
No Mas
Ten words or phrases I could go the rest of my life without ever hearing again:
1. hoax
2. swine
3. vampire
4. ear bud
5. fist bump
6. fauxhawk
7. 80s-inspired
8. statement game/style points
9. suck, sucks, sucked
10. Kardashian
October 25, 2009
Hurts. To. Type.
Y'all. I can barely lift my arms, I'm so sore. I spent the better part of the past two days trimming the bushes, and I think I might croak. Never one to boast about any amount of upper body strength - like ZERO upper body strength - my shortcomings were only too apparent as I grunted and groaned my way through 10 bushes, some of which had grown to be taller than me. I know. I let it go too long. But it was HOT this summer, y'all. And we've only recently had rain, so the bushes had massive growth spurts in the last few weeks. At any rate, this plus four lawn bags is only a fraction of what me and my flabby guns took down:
Those ain't twigs either. Big-a-round as your thumb.
Lucky me, though. The neighbor urchin across the street entertained me for several hours with a recorder "concert" while she jumped on her trampoline, her little Bad Seed head bobbing up and down behind the fence as she screeched. Lovely.
October 21, 2009
All In The Family
We were given the first Harry Potter book when Peach was about 2. Seeing as I could barely stay awake for three pages of People magazine, I put it away, intending to read it with her when she was older. As the subsequent books came out, I was either knee-deep in reading 24/7 for LawNerds or dozing off after Olive’s umpteenth request for Goodnight Moon, so we never bought any more of the books or saw any of the movies.
Then, when Peach was in her first year at GGMS, she found the first book in the school library and recognized it as “that book that Mommy always says we’re going to read together,” so she scooped it up and finished it in two days. Without me. After that, it was game on, and she blew through the rest of them in a matter of weeks. Without me.
The good thing about waiting as long as we did to even start the series was we never had to endure the agonizing wait between books – Peach just went one to the next, right through to The End. However, she read them SO fast that I, her weary mother, am still on Book 5, and she so wants me to finish that she can barely contain herself and keep from spoiling anything. Still, I’m lucky that I have such a wise and enthusiastic guide because that’s a fat lot of characters to keep up with. I’ve been reading the series aloud since Book 2, usually during bath time, so both Peach and Olive have been tutoring me in all things Hogwarts and just think it’s hysterical that I can’t get it all straight in my feeble Muggle mind. And as for the movies, once we determined that they weren’t tooooo scary (because, let’s face it, they kinda are), we’ve screened them all at home, with the exception of the latest release, which we ventured out to see on my birthday.
All this to say, I love these books* and these characters so much, I wish they could continue on forever. And live next door to me. And while I bit the bullet and saw the Book 6 movie before reading the book, I was still surprised by The Big Event therein because while I already knew it was coming (thanks to some a-hole DJ who blurted it out as I was flipping by his station one day), I assumed it was coming in Book 7. So I cried anyway and was in no way disappointed in the semi-lack of surprise – other than that The Big Event had to happen at all. Sniff.
And so it was that this morning, Mama Turista, the most ferocious of all readers, called me in tears on her way to jury duty. She just finished Book 6 in the wee hours last night, and I had to put Peach on the phone to talk her down.
* OK, J.K., I just have one criticism. Sometimes, your wonderfully imaginative descriptions tend to run on and on and on – all in one sentence. Which is difficult to follow if a: you’re dumb, like me, and can’t keep it all straight; and/or b: you’re trying to read aloud and not pass out in the middle of a most-critical Quidditch play or self-aggrandizing monologue by You-Know-Who. Just sayin’.
Then, when Peach was in her first year at GGMS, she found the first book in the school library and recognized it as “that book that Mommy always says we’re going to read together,” so she scooped it up and finished it in two days. Without me. After that, it was game on, and she blew through the rest of them in a matter of weeks. Without me.
The good thing about waiting as long as we did to even start the series was we never had to endure the agonizing wait between books – Peach just went one to the next, right through to The End. However, she read them SO fast that I, her weary mother, am still on Book 5, and she so wants me to finish that she can barely contain herself and keep from spoiling anything. Still, I’m lucky that I have such a wise and enthusiastic guide because that’s a fat lot of characters to keep up with. I’ve been reading the series aloud since Book 2, usually during bath time, so both Peach and Olive have been tutoring me in all things Hogwarts and just think it’s hysterical that I can’t get it all straight in my feeble Muggle mind. And as for the movies, once we determined that they weren’t tooooo scary (because, let’s face it, they kinda are), we’ve screened them all at home, with the exception of the latest release, which we ventured out to see on my birthday.
All this to say, I love these books* and these characters so much, I wish they could continue on forever. And live next door to me. And while I bit the bullet and saw the Book 6 movie before reading the book, I was still surprised by The Big Event therein because while I already knew it was coming (thanks to some a-hole DJ who blurted it out as I was flipping by his station one day), I assumed it was coming in Book 7. So I cried anyway and was in no way disappointed in the semi-lack of surprise – other than that The Big Event had to happen at all. Sniff.
And so it was that this morning, Mama Turista, the most ferocious of all readers, called me in tears on her way to jury duty. She just finished Book 6 in the wee hours last night, and I had to put Peach on the phone to talk her down.
* OK, J.K., I just have one criticism. Sometimes, your wonderfully imaginative descriptions tend to run on and on and on – all in one sentence. Which is difficult to follow if a: you’re dumb, like me, and can’t keep it all straight; and/or b: you’re trying to read aloud and not pass out in the middle of a most-critical Quidditch play or self-aggrandizing monologue by You-Know-Who. Just sayin’.
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