June 28, 2007

shopping with Caroline

Caroline and I are in SteinMart; I’ve just finished a long rant about why the micro mini should ABSOLUTELY NOT EVER have made a comeback. EVER. Did you hear me? NO MICRO MINIS.

When I turn around and see . . . a micro mini. Made of bandanas. So I MUST show Caroline, because I’m like that when I shop.

Me: See! Look! What the hell is this?

Caroline: Oh, a handkerchief skirt. Nice.

Me: Seriously, WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?

Caroline (who is a GOOD ten paces away from the Skirt in Question): Is that a skort? It’s a skort, isn’t it?

Me (looking): Uh, let’s see . . . Why yes, it IS a skort. How did you KNOW that?

Caroline: It’s a gift.

Me: I don’t know if I would admit that to too many people.

(Later when I told her about my secret longing for a pair of Take Outs, she said, “But wouldn’t it be weird to be busting a D cup one day and an A cup the next?” And twenty four hours later, I’m still giggling about her use of “busting.”)

(Also, I tried the SteinMart knock off version of the Take Out in my bra last night, and they were TOO BIG. Which is so depressing that I can’t even talk about it outside of these extra parentheses.)

June 27, 2007

the things that are wrong with my hair today include, but are not limited to, the following

1. My stylist is on medical leave so someone else cut it this time. For more money, I got less haircut. Or less of a haircut than I wanted. Or less something.

2. It is POSSIBLE that the cut is fine, but since I am out of texturizer stuff I just can’t TELL that it is fine because my HAIR is so fine that without the texturizer stuff it just lies there. Lays there? Looks like crap.

3. It is also possible that the good people at Suave changed not only the PACKAGING on my (dirt cheap) shampoo but also the FORMULA, to make it more MOISTURIZING, in which case it wouldn’t matter if I had a GREAT cut AND the texturizing stuff, my hair would STILL look like crap.

4. I opted not to have my hair colored on this go round, because my stylist is out on sick leave (see #1) and I didn’t want a random stylist COLORING MY HAIR (again, see #1). And because it’s been raining nonstop here for TWO WEEKS, I haven’t been in the sun at all, and we all KNOW that I am NEVER coloring my hair myself EVER AGAIN SO HELP ME GOD, so I am living with what I like to refer to as my Natural Color, which, in combination with my almost unbelieveably small bra size, is absolute proof that God has a mean, mean sense of humor.

5. The humidity here is hovering somewhere around 469%, or just enough to make all those other things completely irrelevant, because how can ANYONE have a good hair day with ALL THIS RAIN?

6. We are out of chocolate chip cookies. I don’t know what the connection is either, but while we had chocolate chip cookies in the house, the hair was not so bad. The kids finished them off at lunch, and it’s been all downhill since then.

I’m going out to get texturizer stuff, new shampoo, and cookies. Wish me luck.

June 26, 2007

this much I know (but only barely)

Sheri wants to know eight things about me. But I’m a rule breaker and a rebel (what???) so instead I am going to tell you eight things that I know for sure, which will probably tell you more about me than if I just told you eight things about me.

Ready?

1. I do NOT have strep throat.

2. The scale at the Urgent Care place at Penn and Memorial is TOTALLY wrong, and not in a good way.

3. Better tequila makes a better margarita.

4. It’s AHM-PEER, not EM-PYRE.

5. The following people read this web site, at least occasionally: my dad, my brother, my dissertation director, a guy I dated in college.

6. At least one of those people reads this blog while commuting to work. And by “commuting” I mean “simultaneously driving and looking at his Sidekick.”

7. My children were born at 11:17 am and 12:05 pm.

8. There is one more chocolate chip cookie down stairs.

Okay then! Better than a personality test, yes? Yes.

June 25, 2007

what’s the past tense of "smite"?

Henry does NOT have an ear infection–instead, he has strep throat! Yes!

Wade called this morning, to check in, as we were sitting in the drive thru lane at the pharmacy and I said, “If your throat hurts, get someone to swab it for you.”

And he said, “Well NOW it hurts. Thanks a lot.”

Ten minutes ago, it occurred to me that maybe, just maybe the headache I couldn’t shake all weekend was ALSO caused by a strep infection. So Wade is on his way home and I’m off to Urgent Care to have someone swab ME. I bet I already know what they’re going to tell me. Because we’ve been down this road before. (That link takes you to a whole mess of posts about strep throat. In my house. In the past TWO YEARS. Den of pestilence, I’m telling you.)

Oh, and? Just this minute? It started to rain. Like build me an ark, Noah, and gather up those animals rain. Because apparently I have angered someone higher up and now I will pay.

Amen.

June 24, 2007

domestic Sunday

We got everyone all lotioned up and dressed for the pool today, only to have Henry announce, in the kitchen, on the way out the door, “My head hurts.” Hmm, we said, well okay, do you think you want to go to the pool?

Yes, he did.

In the car, on the way to the pool, he said, “My hear hurts. I think I have an ear infection.” Hmm, we said, well okay, you probably shouldn’t swim. No, he decided, he did NOT have an ear infection, just a head ache. Okay, we said, did he want to try going to the pool?

Yes, he did.

In the parking lot at the club, where we were meeting Wade’s brother and his kids, Henry said, “I don’t want to swim.” So I gave Wade the pool bag and his cell phone and then flagged down my sister-in-law, who pulled in as I was pulling out, to ask her to bring Wade and Charlie home, and I came home with Henry, who is running a slight fever and says he feels weak. And that his head hurts. And maybe his ear hurts too, he’s not sure.

I have a new column at Mamazine.com today, about how much I love my Dyson. Or the cocktail hour. Or something like that.

I’m not a big housework person, and I can barely cook. But somehow this summer, I’ve been finding time to vacuum and dust and wipe up the bathroom counters and keep up with the laundry. I’ve been making real food for dinner, almost every night. Yesterday, just for fun, I cleaned the windows that look out onto the sun porch because the little sets of child fingerprints were driving me crazy, and then I made a cheese and cracker plate and served it on the porch, with some nice wine.

I have no idea what has happened to me.

And now I have to unload and reload the dishwasher, because some folks are coming by to admire the house later, and because at any moment Henry will start wailing because he really DOES have an ear infection and it’s Sunday and the doctor’s office is closed.

June 23, 2007

home is where the stuff is (even if it’s old and mismatched and you can’t find half of it)

Last night, someone asked me what style our furniture was. “Uh,” I said, “old?”

“And mismatched!” Wade yelled from the other room. “Don’t forget MISMATCHED!”

“Yes!” I said. “Our furniture style is Old and Mismatched.”

I think she was looking for something more like French Country or 60s Modernist or Early Gothic.

Today, someone else asked how moved in we were. “Oh, you know,” I said, “we’re at that point where we’re starting to look for all the things we can’t find. Because we unpacked all the boxes IMMEDIATELY and put everything away, but now we go around saying things like, ‘What happened to the white corkscrew?’ and ‘Have you seen my wedding ring?’ and ‘I could SWEAR we had silver polish.’ You know, that stage of moving in. The Where the Hell is Our Stuff Stage.”

“Oh yes,” she said, “I remember that stage. It’s horrible.”