Sorry I haven't been 'round lately. This business of preparing to go on vacation without the kids is a full time job. Rides, sitters, meals, not to mention all the many things on my list that I feel compelled to do before I leave - things that I haven't bothered with for six months. Something about going on vacation inspires me to clean my plate so I can start anew when I return.
So I am off to ski with Jimmy Carter. Well, I'm guessing at 81 he won't be skiing, but we'll see.
I tried watching the state of the Bush Union tonight, so JC and I can have something to talk about. However, after 30 minutes of retoric from the Bush, I had to turn it off before I became ill. That's just not cool before vacation.
At least he paid tribute to Coretta Scott King. Now I can say that I applauded him.
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Friday, January 27, 2006
Well This Is It Now
Rob keeps waking me.
He has become my alarm clock, of sorts. For the past week,without fail, he has roused me from the fog of dreamland, crooning his moving lyrics.
It is deeply flattering to have this amazing, gifted, hot singer some ten years my junior lavish me with his sultry - dripping with sex appeal, voice. (Didn't I mention he is hot?) Normally I wouldn't complain, but out of all the dittys in his repertoire, he keeps singing the same one over and over.
Well this is it now
Everybody get down
This is all I can take
This is how a heart breaks
It's starting to make me feel a little insecure about our relationship.
Guess I'll have to put my son's CD player on shuffle. Then maybe RT can stir me with:
Call on me
I'll be there for you and you'll be there for me
Forever it's you
Forever in me
Ever the same
He has become my alarm clock, of sorts. For the past week,without fail, he has roused me from the fog of dreamland, crooning his moving lyrics.
It is deeply flattering to have this amazing, gifted, hot singer some ten years my junior lavish me with his sultry - dripping with sex appeal, voice. (Didn't I mention he is hot?) Normally I wouldn't complain, but out of all the dittys in his repertoire, he keeps singing the same one over and over.
Well this is it now
Everybody get down
This is all I can take
This is how a heart breaks
It's starting to make me feel a little insecure about our relationship.
Guess I'll have to put my son's CD player on shuffle. Then maybe RT can stir me with:
Call on me
I'll be there for you and you'll be there for me
Forever it's you
Forever in me
Ever the same
Sunday, January 22, 2006
Covergirl
"What are you doing?", my friend Susan asked as I paraded through the rounders at K-Mart trying not to broadcast my entire phone conversation.
"Just Christmas shopping", I replied.
"Do you have some time before you pick up the boys from school?"
Hmmm, a loaded question. Not very quick on my feet, I replied "Yes". What am I getting into?
"We just need to just take a few pictures of you trying on pants."
Huh? Susan's husband is a photographer but I didn't know anything about his work. This image came to my mind - me wriggling my bum into a pair of jeans while the camera clicked furiously focusing on my better half. Kind of erotic and sexy, so I headed right over to the studio.
Boy was I disappointed. They needed someone to model old lady jeans. You know the kind. Elastic waist, and full legs. Comfort over fashion. Check that. Comfort, no fashion. I even had to hike them up right underneath my breasts, just like my grandma did, to get them to look right. My only consolation was they had to pin the material back from my legs as they were swimming in old lady hell. And, oh yeah, these were only waist down photos, so I'd be incognito.
This is humiliating. My first and last modeling job, I thought. Then they handed me a check. I thought this was just a favor for a friend. I had no idea I would get paid.
"Call me, on the line. Call me, call me, any, anytime" I sang, in my best Blondie impersonation, skipping out the door.
Look for my "work" in the Sunday sales flyers. I'll be the one with the forty year old legs in the gunny sack pants. I'm sure you'll be able to tell the difference.
"Just Christmas shopping", I replied.
"Do you have some time before you pick up the boys from school?"
Hmmm, a loaded question. Not very quick on my feet, I replied "Yes". What am I getting into?
"We just need to just take a few pictures of you trying on pants."
Huh? Susan's husband is a photographer but I didn't know anything about his work. This image came to my mind - me wriggling my bum into a pair of jeans while the camera clicked furiously focusing on my better half. Kind of erotic and sexy, so I headed right over to the studio.
Boy was I disappointed. They needed someone to model old lady jeans. You know the kind. Elastic waist, and full legs. Comfort over fashion. Check that. Comfort, no fashion. I even had to hike them up right underneath my breasts, just like my grandma did, to get them to look right. My only consolation was they had to pin the material back from my legs as they were swimming in old lady hell. And, oh yeah, these were only waist down photos, so I'd be incognito.
This is humiliating. My first and last modeling job, I thought. Then they handed me a check. I thought this was just a favor for a friend. I had no idea I would get paid.
"Call me, on the line. Call me, call me, any, anytime" I sang, in my best Blondie impersonation, skipping out the door.
Look for my "work" in the Sunday sales flyers. I'll be the one with the forty year old legs in the gunny sack pants. I'm sure you'll be able to tell the difference.
Friday, January 20, 2006
Computer Whores
My boys live to play on the computer, so much so that they ask incessantly until they are given permission. I have long realized the carrot value of this privilege. They can easily lose the privilege for bad behavior, which my youngest frequently does. I can also get them to perform chores- whether it be homework, piano practice or getting ready for bed - before they get a shot at their favorite "eye candy", cartoon network games.
But this week a light went on and I had a brilliant idea; Add some real chores. It's working like a charm so far. My oldest has been cleaning the bathroom sink, unloading the dishwasher, etc. My youngest has yet to lift a finger. He's been suspended from the computer since I started this.
Next week I'm adding a new chore- cleaning the toilet. The honeymoon could be over soon.
But this week a light went on and I had a brilliant idea; Add some real chores. It's working like a charm so far. My oldest has been cleaning the bathroom sink, unloading the dishwasher, etc. My youngest has yet to lift a finger. He's been suspended from the computer since I started this.
Next week I'm adding a new chore- cleaning the toilet. The honeymoon could be over soon.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
Mustache Quandary
I don't have a problem with some extra hair. I frequently let my arm pit and leg hair grow "out", mostly out of laziness. I wouldn't consider myself vain. I don't wear make-up that often but I prefer to keep the facial hair to minimum. Mustaches aren't generally considered attractive on women.
I used to bleach my mustache but dark or light, a mustache is still a mustache, so I began plucking, occasionally. Chalk it up to hormones but over the last several years the intervals between plucks have shortened; now the mustache hairs are coming on like Homer Simpson's beard. I pluck them. They reappear, quickly. And more coarse. At this rate, I will soon be tickling my husband with my stubble instead of my tongue.(If you just took a dive into the gutter, come back up because I'm talking about kissing.)
Guess I'm going to have to go the waxing route until I can cough up some money for electrolysis and get this permanently removed.
I used to bleach my mustache but dark or light, a mustache is still a mustache, so I began plucking, occasionally. Chalk it up to hormones but over the last several years the intervals between plucks have shortened; now the mustache hairs are coming on like Homer Simpson's beard. I pluck them. They reappear, quickly. And more coarse. At this rate, I will soon be tickling my husband with my stubble instead of my tongue.(If you just took a dive into the gutter, come back up because I'm talking about kissing.)
Guess I'm going to have to go the waxing route until I can cough up some money for electrolysis and get this permanently removed.
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Crimson Waves
Excited about his visit I scurried around trying to pick-up the mess in the house. I didn't want him to think we lived like slobs. Yesterday he called, finally, after a week of waiting; he was ready to meet.
The door bell rang. I glanced at my watch. Ugh! He's fifteen minutes early! I felt a warm sensation in my pants. Damn, I ran through my tampon - again. Superb timing.
I opened the door breathless and flustered; I couldn't even remember his name. I tried to keep the dog from jumping on his jewels while simultaneously trying to Kaegel back the flow of things. He graciously saved me and introduced himself. As I extended my hand, the dog jumped again. He winced. His jewels were hit. Great first impression.
Embarrassed, I showed him in and we began to talk about what I needed from him. But it's hard to concentrate when your blood flow is elsewhere. Damn, I really need him, but I need the bathroom too. His phone rang and he answered. Saved by the bell, I excused myself.
Upon returning, I was better able to focus on my needs and we had a lovely conversation about the demolition and renovation of my kitchen.
The door bell rang. I glanced at my watch. Ugh! He's fifteen minutes early! I felt a warm sensation in my pants. Damn, I ran through my tampon - again. Superb timing.
I opened the door breathless and flustered; I couldn't even remember his name. I tried to keep the dog from jumping on his jewels while simultaneously trying to Kaegel back the flow of things. He graciously saved me and introduced himself. As I extended my hand, the dog jumped again. He winced. His jewels were hit. Great first impression.
Embarrassed, I showed him in and we began to talk about what I needed from him. But it's hard to concentrate when your blood flow is elsewhere. Damn, I really need him, but I need the bathroom too. His phone rang and he answered. Saved by the bell, I excused myself.
Upon returning, I was better able to focus on my needs and we had a lovely conversation about the demolition and renovation of my kitchen.
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