You know those dreams that are so real you remember them, feeling the aftermath, for hours/days after? Lately my sub-conscious has run amok with tails or the President (elect), a forced marriage and really hot men hitting on me.
Most of the time I don’t analyze my dreams because it’s almost always a combination of some spicy casserole + alcohol + being woken up at some-strange-hour by a screaming kid. Perfect recipe for delicious sub-conscious meals. But today’s dream was both wonderful and disturbing. You’ll help me analyze it, won’t you?
:: lays on couch ala Therapy style ::
So I’m visiting an old old friend, I don’t even recognize where we are except somewhere in Houston, back in our old... Read more
Clara’s been dressing herself out of the laundry hamper as I’m folding clothes.
Today, she put on a hat. And her own shoes (on the right feet!). And my underpants as a necklace.
Today I woke up having not forgotten to email any clients, having not forgotten to finish anything and having slept all night long not up with a sick husband or kids or a the slideshow from hell.
Then I remembered sarcasm.
*My window today. Rain. Go figure.Read more
For a few weeks now The Little Man O screams in the car. We’re talking ear-piercing, high decibal, painfully loud, “taking others down with me” screaming.
I’m sure you can imagine.
It finally hit me last night. The car seat! Oh Mah GAWD, it’s the Car Seat.
I looked back at him pulling at the straps screaming. I went through my memories of him somehow managing to squirm out of those same straps, of him standing on the seat as I drove down the highway, and of him arching his back in defiance, which I thought was purely that, definace, when I placed him in the car.
Until I remembered the manual for the seat.... Read more
I’m famous in my circle for loving 1998. Look, 1998? It was good. There was Dave Mathews Band. There was grunge. There was boots and hiking and being fresh out of college.
I love me some 1998.
So, today when I donned on my long sweater/robe the mister glanced up in his usually uninterested-in-my-wardrobe way, I was suprised to see him eyeing me. “Hot, aren’t I? Still got it!” I said as I slapped my ass.
“Uh, no, thkat’s not it. That sweater? Isn’t it a wee bit 1998?”
“No, it was more like 2000, thankyouverymuch. Jeeze.”
Tells you what he knows.
So, Internet? Brutally Honest: Is this the revival of a fantastic ass-loving trend? Or am I abusing 8 years of fashion... Read more
My husband regularly tells me I am the most ADD person he knows. I tell him he doesn’t know a lot of people. He tells me he can’t know too many more people because I’m all the people he can handle.
Then he kisses me and slaps my ass in fun and turns on the TV.
Lately I’ve had this urge. I often get “urges” or “a bee in my bonnet” or “any sort of cliche you can think of here that is a nice way of saying totally lost my shit.” Sometimes I crave my favorite city Bellingham. Sometimes I need to fly home to Texas. Sometimes I ache to hike or camp or kayak. But not in the way you think of a normal person missing things she used to do before kids. No, it’s more like a lady with PMS being told chocolate is... Read more
I was 12 years old when my Mom gave me my first marriage advice. “Leslie,” she said looking down at my perm and blue eye-shadow, “When you get married, be sure you look for three things in your husband. One, be sure he wears tasseled shoes. Two, be sure he has plants in his apartment. And three, make sure he can’t dance.”
I looked up at her in complete bewilderment. So she went on to explain:
The shoes represent someone with a conscience style and sense of self. Someone who has drive and motivation. Of course, back in the mid-eighties, tasseled shoes were the height of trend among successful mid-thirties men.
The plants represent a man who cares for other living things aside from himself. He takes responsibility and cares for... Read more
Are you as giddy as I am? I’m completely unable to focus on nearly any of my other obligations. I’ve been trying to verbalize my emotions, to write with intelligence, to sit and really justify my logic and emotions and I can’t.
I think I’ve come down with an Adult case of ADHD.
(I’m currently typing this as I run in place.)
(I’m kidding. But only slightly.)
Consider this my virtual door. Picture a few cob-webs with jack-o-lanterns glowing on the front porch and a fun spooky CD piping through the window.
Now, picture being REALLY terrified when John McCain and Sarah Palin answer the door.
This year we’re more in to Halloween then ever before. We had a fantastic Halloween party thrown at Michelle’s house. We’re taking the kids trick or treating tonight with Laura. We’re all aglow with sugar rush.
It must be the age of my children, how they bring out the best... Read more
Today I turn thirty-three. Thirty. Three. I’m boggled. I’m blinded.
I’m not sure how I feel about that.
Most average days I just get by. I email, I make lunches, I make dinner, I do the dishes, I tuck covers in over tiny people. I try to remember a life before this and I can’t.
Maybe that’s ok.
So today I’m reflecting on 33 things. Thirty-three. A number that means nothing and so much at the same time.
1. I’m more like... Read more