Uh oh another national holiday weekend looms on the horizon. Curses! This doesn't make me joyful. Didn't we just have one? (" No Mom, I don't mean Mother's Day." ) Personally I'd prefer they weren't so close together. I need time to relax and recuperate from the stress of the last holiday. I don't have a grill which is a long weekend requirement. Even if I did I'd be very nervous about blowing up the house, myself, and my guests. Speaking of "guests" I don't have those either , which brings me to my next problem - the stress of finding guests. I wonder if they have an "available guests" category on Craig's List? And would they work for free or require a salary and health care?
I'm also not a parade person although Beefy Boy sees them as an opportunity to get attention especially if I put him in a monogrammed hat. I view them as crowded and too colorful. I long for the giant inflated Mickey Mouse from the Macy's Day parade. No Mickey no me. Bands and Boy Scout troops marching down the street wreak havoc with traffic . What if someone invites me over for a July 4th party and I can't get there? I think I dreamt this and woke up in a sweat longing for corn on the cob.
The holiday is getting closer and closer and my stress level is mounting with each passing day. I'm out of meds but consider buying a grill instead as a symbol of personal growth and to help pick up the economy. But if you are having a picnic or party I'm available.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Friday, June 25, 2010
Tales from the Queen of Gridlock
CRAAAAAAAAAP! I mean OMMMMMMM! It's summer and every single solitary road I take is under construction. I'm the Queen of Gridlock. Cars piled up for miles in every direction. I make a quick u-turn to escape and curses, I'm not only stuck again but lost. No, I don't have a GPS but I do remember the lake is East. Except I've driven so far off the lake I am convinced South is East. Unfortunately I never hung around the Girl Scouts long enough to get a "wilderness badge" so I'm challanged on any survival techniques I might need if I'm in the car a minute longer! I did sell a lot of cookies however. Craaaaap, get me out of this traffic! Beefy Boy doesn't care how long we're stuck as long as the air conditioning is on and he can nap. I wish he could drive so I could take a Valium.
It took me 30 minutes to drive 8 blocks up Michigan Avenue. Even when the lights turned green I couldn't move. "The freaking light is green for God's sake....go!" Nope. I desperately tried to remember the words from my friend Jamie Lerner's peaceful wonderful book "The Ever-Loving Essence of You"(www.jamie-lerner.com) where she explores the option of enjoying what's going on around you as opposed to fighting it. Ok Jamie I took your advice and decided to take a deep breath and study the advertisement on the bus sitting next to me. I spent approx. 41 seconds lovingly reading about shinier hair before I started screaming. I was moments from getting out of the car and jumping up and down in complete and utter frustration. OMMMMM! I might however, try the hair care product when I calm down enough to shower.
Yesterday I was stuck in gridlocked traffic so close to home I could see my apartment. So near and yet so far I burst into tears. I thought about leaving the car and walking the rest of the way but couldn't wake Beefy Boy. It took twenty minutes to turn the corner - I was sweating , swearing and had developed a rash on my cheek from nerves. Like I said "craaaaaap....I mean ommmmm."
It took me 30 minutes to drive 8 blocks up Michigan Avenue. Even when the lights turned green I couldn't move. "The freaking light is green for God's sake....go!" Nope. I desperately tried to remember the words from my friend Jamie Lerner's peaceful wonderful book "The Ever-Loving Essence of You"(www.jamie-lerner.com) where she explores the option of enjoying what's going on around you as opposed to fighting it. Ok Jamie I took your advice and decided to take a deep breath and study the advertisement on the bus sitting next to me. I spent approx. 41 seconds lovingly reading about shinier hair before I started screaming. I was moments from getting out of the car and jumping up and down in complete and utter frustration. OMMMMM! I might however, try the hair care product when I calm down enough to shower.
Yesterday I was stuck in gridlocked traffic so close to home I could see my apartment. So near and yet so far I burst into tears. I thought about leaving the car and walking the rest of the way but couldn't wake Beefy Boy. It took twenty minutes to turn the corner - I was sweating , swearing and had developed a rash on my cheek from nerves. Like I said "craaaaaap....I mean ommmmm."
Monday, June 21, 2010
Father's Day is too Hard or Dad Likes Cake
Father's Day just doesn't have the pomp and circumstance of Mother's Day. Mother's Day gets more media coverage than a lunar landing although I don't think we go to the moon anymore, but I could be wrong. One giant step for Mom and one teenie tiny one for Dad. Mother's Day is a cash cow for Hallmark and 1 -800- flowers. Dads just don't rake in the $$$ . I know it's a dark day of guilt if I don't arrive at Mom's door with something in a Neiman's , Tiffany's, or Bloomie's bag - or teeter in with a flowering plant the size of a building. "Here Mom, Happy Mother's Day," I groaned as I fell over. "Thank you dear," she said and left me on the floor to go open my sister's present in Saks packaging.
It's hard to shop for Dad. He doesn't like much. For 25 straight years I bought him a tie for Father's Day. Stripes, solids, patterned or knit, he returned every one. I was relentless and undeterred and continued my search for one he'd keep. Never happened. I finally gave up and switched to books. That didn't work either, as we didn't have the same taste in reading. He'd open the package, grunt and put it down. Mom at least gushed upon opening. I almost bought him a bottle of his favorite wine, Mogan David, but my regular wine salesman stared at me in disbelief and disappointment; I broke out in a rash and had to leave the store.
What did Dad really like? This question plagued me. Then like a dream come true I remembered. He liked to eat cake. And candy when there's no cake. I'd come bearing cakes from bakeries as far west as Iowa. "Too dry," he'd discern and push the plate away after one bite. Curses! I switched to exotic chocolate which cost more than my new Kate Spade shoes. "Bitter, not sweet enough," he said as he wrapped it back in the foil. I ate the tasty chocolate and sadly returned the shoes.
This Father's Day I came bearing Twinkies and a Snickers bar wearing a new pair of shoes.
It's hard to shop for Dad. He doesn't like much. For 25 straight years I bought him a tie for Father's Day. Stripes, solids, patterned or knit, he returned every one. I was relentless and undeterred and continued my search for one he'd keep. Never happened. I finally gave up and switched to books. That didn't work either, as we didn't have the same taste in reading. He'd open the package, grunt and put it down. Mom at least gushed upon opening. I almost bought him a bottle of his favorite wine, Mogan David, but my regular wine salesman stared at me in disbelief and disappointment; I broke out in a rash and had to leave the store.
What did Dad really like? This question plagued me. Then like a dream come true I remembered. He liked to eat cake. And candy when there's no cake. I'd come bearing cakes from bakeries as far west as Iowa. "Too dry," he'd discern and push the plate away after one bite. Curses! I switched to exotic chocolate which cost more than my new Kate Spade shoes. "Bitter, not sweet enough," he said as he wrapped it back in the foil. I ate the tasty chocolate and sadly returned the shoes.
This Father's Day I came bearing Twinkies and a Snickers bar wearing a new pair of shoes.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
My Life as a Fish or Make it Stop Raining!
I have developed very small gills behind each ear and every day my skin gets increasingly scaly. I think I'm de-evolving in order to survive. Thanks Mother Nature for turning me into a fish to weather the Chicago weather. I'm not looking forward to fins but at this point, what the hell. I might look better as an amphibian than I look with my puffy frizzy hair from the rain and humidity. Every day it's the same from my mortal enemy the weatherman - "Rain tomorrow morning . Rain into the evening and overnight. Rain again the next morning into the afternoon. A thunderstorm at night and possibly the next morning. It's going to be wet out there," he says with a big old grin on his face. I resist the urge to throw my pasta primavera at the TV because it is tastier than fish food.
I used to only hate him in winter. He is really at his best then. "A storm is coming, run, hide, don't go to the airport, stay off the roads, buy a sled and 8 barking Huskies. It's going to snow for the next 112 hours; people could be buried alive if they don't have emergency kits in their car. (my emergency kit has a hair dryer and lipstick). It's big , it's white, it's coming to your neighborhood!" I burst into tears before I ate an entire bag of Oreos for comfort. Does this man have friends?
I should have been a Meteorologist. I'm a drama queen with a touch of the morbid. How hard could it be for pity's sake? I'd be a little more direct with the viewing audience however. Why sugar coat the forecast by smiling. "The weather today will suck. If you have frizzy or curly hair stay home or wear a hat as the humidity will be 95%. You probably won't look good again until the weekend. If you have a comb over I'd suggest staying home also as the winds are going to be gusty and it could be embarrassing. Just remember folks I'll look as bad as the rest of you so I feel your pain." Isn't that a lot better? No smiling or ridiculous atmospheric charts with wavy lines .
It's dreary dreary dreary again today. I need anxiety medication and a long sleeve shirt to cover the scales. My hair has taken on a giant life of it's own and has become resistant to all forms of calming shampoo. I wonder if super glue can double as conditioner? Like I said in my forecast, I probably won't look good again until the weekend.
I used to only hate him in winter. He is really at his best then. "A storm is coming, run, hide, don't go to the airport, stay off the roads, buy a sled and 8 barking Huskies. It's going to snow for the next 112 hours; people could be buried alive if they don't have emergency kits in their car. (my emergency kit has a hair dryer and lipstick). It's big , it's white, it's coming to your neighborhood!" I burst into tears before I ate an entire bag of Oreos for comfort. Does this man have friends?
I should have been a Meteorologist. I'm a drama queen with a touch of the morbid. How hard could it be for pity's sake? I'd be a little more direct with the viewing audience however. Why sugar coat the forecast by smiling. "The weather today will suck. If you have frizzy or curly hair stay home or wear a hat as the humidity will be 95%. You probably won't look good again until the weekend. If you have a comb over I'd suggest staying home also as the winds are going to be gusty and it could be embarrassing. Just remember folks I'll look as bad as the rest of you so I feel your pain." Isn't that a lot better? No smiling or ridiculous atmospheric charts with wavy lines .
It's dreary dreary dreary again today. I need anxiety medication and a long sleeve shirt to cover the scales. My hair has taken on a giant life of it's own and has become resistant to all forms of calming shampoo. I wonder if super glue can double as conditioner? Like I said in my forecast, I probably won't look good again until the weekend.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
I Want to go to Summer Camp!
It's no fair there's no summer camp for adults. I miss it. It made getting dressed in the morning easy - just pull on my Tamarak or Sunshine Valley t-shirt and a pair of shorts and voila I was ready to go. Now I stare at my closet, can't find anything to wear and realize if I don't go shopping soon it will be winter. I loved waiting for the big yellow bus to pull up to the corner toting my lunch bag filled with yet another peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Mom wasn't very clever with the food, but she did spend endless time braiding my hair or putting it into pigtails. I however, was very particular and they had to be perfectly even or I'd stamp my foot and whine. I tortured her. The camp bus was much more fun than my bus ride up Michigan Ave. No one sings.
At camp the fun never stopped. I learned the dog paddle at Sunshine Valley which was not efficient but at least I didn't drown. It was Tamarak where I learned to swim better but no one could ever get me to dive. I was a chicken shit and stood at the side of the pool contemplating my death. I liked arts and craft hour, which I can't find time for anymore and don't know where to buy crafts. Making pink and blue lanyard key chains in the "square" stitch was my favorite. The "circle" stitch nearly drove me to drink as a 9 yr. old. I couldn't master it and again did a lot of whining. I loved horseback riding and never wanted to get off the horse. Yep, I whined to stay on. I think the counselors hated me. I sucked at archery. The arrow was forever falling off the bow. When I could get it to fly it landed one foot away. My adult camp would not include archery. It will however include daily S'mores. OMG I loved them. I tried to make them at home but Mom didn't like me setting sticks on fire in the kitchen as the marshmellows dripped into the burner on the stove. I didn't whine, I ran!
It's almost summer and there will not be a big yellow bus at the corner coming to take me away for a day of fun fun fun. Crap. I burst into a camp song once in a while but stop when I see people cringing. I've bought the ingredients for S'mores but worry about setting the house on fire. I do need a new keychain however and vow to spend the summer drinking and mastering the "circle" stitch.
At camp the fun never stopped. I learned the dog paddle at Sunshine Valley which was not efficient but at least I didn't drown. It was Tamarak where I learned to swim better but no one could ever get me to dive. I was a chicken shit and stood at the side of the pool contemplating my death. I liked arts and craft hour, which I can't find time for anymore and don't know where to buy crafts. Making pink and blue lanyard key chains in the "square" stitch was my favorite. The "circle" stitch nearly drove me to drink as a 9 yr. old. I couldn't master it and again did a lot of whining. I loved horseback riding and never wanted to get off the horse. Yep, I whined to stay on. I think the counselors hated me. I sucked at archery. The arrow was forever falling off the bow. When I could get it to fly it landed one foot away. My adult camp would not include archery. It will however include daily S'mores. OMG I loved them. I tried to make them at home but Mom didn't like me setting sticks on fire in the kitchen as the marshmellows dripped into the burner on the stove. I didn't whine, I ran!
It's almost summer and there will not be a big yellow bus at the corner coming to take me away for a day of fun fun fun. Crap. I burst into a camp song once in a while but stop when I see people cringing. I've bought the ingredients for S'mores but worry about setting the house on fire. I do need a new keychain however and vow to spend the summer drinking and mastering the "circle" stitch.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Al and Tipper Say It Isn't So or Another Role Model Bites the Dust
Crap. Bad news on the role model front again. First our boy Tiger ,king of golf, darling of advertisers, loving father and husband bites the dust - HARD. That seemed to be a toughie for the public. Next the odd, but seeemingly sweet marriage of Sandra and her tatooed man became road kill. And now, all "can a marriage last?" bets are off with the announcement of Al and Tipper seeking a divorce. Is there no marital hope left? Al and Tipper, regardless of one's political affiliation appeared to be a perfectly matched and married couple. What the hell happened kids? If the two of you can't keep it together what hope do I have? Twice divorced I need encouragement not validation.
The Gores were married for 40 years, that's a really long time and I'm certain they don't have a pre-nup. Divorce lawyers must be calling day and night. Some nice hourly billing to be had! But seriously Tipper, if you're looking for a new man, take my advice, don't join an internet dating site. The guys are all lying about their height, and if they're wearing a baseball cap in their profile picture they have male patterned baldness. Al, you're so rich I don't think you'll have much trouble finding a young hot chickidee, but she may think "global warming" means a vacay to Aruba.
I read in the Wall Street Journal article "'Til 40 Years Do Us Part" that the break-up of a 30 or 40 year marriage has become common. (Fortunately I can no longer ever be married for that long unless I tie the knot later today and live to be 100. ) "If I don't go now I'll never go" is one reason for a long term marriage to end, along with, "the kids were all we had in common" , career women no longer being financially dependent on their spouse , and Viagra, which apparently gives a man the confidence to find a new partner. Uh oh the Viagra factor again- another set-back for Mother Nature, but boom for divorce attorneys.
Let's face it 30/40 years is a hell of a long time to spend with one person. Sometimes I find an hour way too long. "For better or for worse, in sickness and in health, til death do us part, as long as you both shall live," - hang on there just one sec, perhaps we should re-think those weighty vows before the final "I do." Maybe "I hope so" or "I'll try my best" would be more realistic. "I'll get back to you" would be my answer the next time.
The Gores were married for 40 years, that's a really long time and I'm certain they don't have a pre-nup. Divorce lawyers must be calling day and night. Some nice hourly billing to be had! But seriously Tipper, if you're looking for a new man, take my advice, don't join an internet dating site. The guys are all lying about their height, and if they're wearing a baseball cap in their profile picture they have male patterned baldness. Al, you're so rich I don't think you'll have much trouble finding a young hot chickidee, but she may think "global warming" means a vacay to Aruba.
I read in the Wall Street Journal article "'Til 40 Years Do Us Part" that the break-up of a 30 or 40 year marriage has become common. (Fortunately I can no longer ever be married for that long unless I tie the knot later today and live to be 100. ) "If I don't go now I'll never go" is one reason for a long term marriage to end, along with, "the kids were all we had in common" , career women no longer being financially dependent on their spouse , and Viagra, which apparently gives a man the confidence to find a new partner. Uh oh the Viagra factor again- another set-back for Mother Nature, but boom for divorce attorneys.
Let's face it 30/40 years is a hell of a long time to spend with one person. Sometimes I find an hour way too long. "For better or for worse, in sickness and in health, til death do us part, as long as you both shall live," - hang on there just one sec, perhaps we should re-think those weighty vows before the final "I do." Maybe "I hope so" or "I'll try my best" would be more realistic. "I'll get back to you" would be my answer the next time.
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