Yesterday, I attended a work function, held at work, and of absolutely ZERO interest to anybody but people who work here. While I was mingling and conversating, I noticed that a co-worker of mine (a man I really admire and am friendly with) addressed his entire half of the conversation to my cleavage.
Inside my head, ten years ago: Oh my GOD, is that guy looking at my rack? He is! He's not even looking at my face - he's just looking at my rack! What a fucking pig! Hellooooooo - I have a face! Why do I even try to talk to guys like this?
Inside my head, yesterday: Oh, my God! Is he looking at my rack? He IS! Why? Do I have something on my shirt? No, I don't - I managed to keep lunch off the front of me today. Then why is he looking at my chest? Well, I *am* wearing the push-up bra and the shirt that makes them look pretty good. And they *are* DDDs. Yep. He's looking at my rack. Awesome.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Lamenting the Loss of My Ever-Lovin' Mind
First, I lost my keys this weekend. I mean, I LOST THEM. Possibly they're lying in a parking lot or on a road somewhere, smashed beyond recognition after having vaulted off the top of my truck, where I presumably left them.
Then, yesterday, I left my computer at home. An hour away from where I work. So I had to go home and I just ended up staying there and working from home. Because WTF else am I going to do? BUT FIRST, because I lost my keys, I had to travel an hour in the other direction to DH's office, where I procured the HOUSE KEY that I would need to GET INTO THE HOUSE.
I also learned this morning that on the soda fountain, even though it LOOKS like the person in front of you is getting water from the spout marked "SODA" in big, generic letters - that's actually CLUB SODA. And no, I don't like it any more now than I did the first time I tried it plain. Club soda needs and deserves vodka. Or a stain that it can work diligently to get out.
Today was the coup de grace, though. I bought tickets to the circus (yes, even though I'm opposed) and have been prepping the kids on the circus trip since Saturday morning. I printed them out this morning in anticipation of the show tonight.
The show is not tonight.
The show is NEXT Wednesday.
Not only will my children be completely hysterical with no hope of consolation when we pick them up from school today and inform them of Mama's Colossal Screw-Up, but neither will the mistake be assuaged by Dance Class, which was being missed for the fantastic circus. Why? Because I left her dance things at home. An hour from where I work.
We weren't going to need them, you know. We were going to the CIRCUS.
Then, yesterday, I left my computer at home. An hour away from where I work. So I had to go home and I just ended up staying there and working from home. Because WTF else am I going to do? BUT FIRST, because I lost my keys, I had to travel an hour in the other direction to DH's office, where I procured the HOUSE KEY that I would need to GET INTO THE HOUSE.
I also learned this morning that on the soda fountain, even though it LOOKS like the person in front of you is getting water from the spout marked "SODA" in big, generic letters - that's actually CLUB SODA. And no, I don't like it any more now than I did the first time I tried it plain. Club soda needs and deserves vodka. Or a stain that it can work diligently to get out.
Today was the coup de grace, though. I bought tickets to the circus (yes, even though I'm opposed) and have been prepping the kids on the circus trip since Saturday morning. I printed them out this morning in anticipation of the show tonight.
The show is not tonight.
The show is NEXT Wednesday.
Not only will my children be completely hysterical with no hope of consolation when we pick them up from school today and inform them of Mama's Colossal Screw-Up, but neither will the mistake be assuaged by Dance Class, which was being missed for the fantastic circus. Why? Because I left her dance things at home. An hour from where I work.
We weren't going to need them, you know. We were going to the CIRCUS.
Monday, June 18, 2007
The Post Where I Reveal My Favorite. Poem. Ever. Today, Anyway.
This was really, really hard because I like so many different poems for so many different reasons.
I looked through everything: Neruda, Auden, Burns, Teasdale, Browning, Keats, Dickinson, cummings, Frost - and more and more. I remembered poems I had forgotten and saw my tastes change throughout my life.
Finally, I remembered it. And this is my favorite poem. Today, anyway.
The Lake Isle of Innisfree
by William Butler Yeats
I WILL arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.
I looked through everything: Neruda, Auden, Burns, Teasdale, Browning, Keats, Dickinson, cummings, Frost - and more and more. I remembered poems I had forgotten and saw my tastes change throughout my life.
Finally, I remembered it. And this is my favorite poem. Today, anyway.
The Lake Isle of Innisfree
by William Butler Yeats
I WILL arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;
Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet's wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray,
I hear it in the deep heart's core.
The Problem with the Digital Age
It occurred to me this weekend that my kids are going to miss out on an awesome thing by being part of the digital age: cassette tapes.
My kids won't be able to hold the tape recorder up and tape songs off the radio. They won't be able to tape-record themselves reading really annoying kid books out loud to their dolls. Or their siblings. Or just for the hell of it.
They won't know the exquisite annoyance of fast-forwarding through a song you HATE to get to the only song you bought the stupid cassette for in the first place.
And they won't even KNOW they're missing it! How sad is that?
My kids won't be able to hold the tape recorder up and tape songs off the radio. They won't be able to tape-record themselves reading really annoying kid books out loud to their dolls. Or their siblings. Or just for the hell of it.
They won't know the exquisite annoyance of fast-forwarding through a song you HATE to get to the only song you bought the stupid cassette for in the first place.
And they won't even KNOW they're missing it! How sad is that?
Friday, June 15, 2007
I can't remember poetry.
When I was in middle school, I loved Edgar Allen Poe's "Annabel Lee."
When I was in high school, I loved Maya Angelou's "Phenomenal Woman."
Now I'm a wife, a mom, and sometimes a sort of intellectual. I know I like Sara Teasdale. I know I like e.e. cummings. I know I like W.H. Auden. (Apparently, I only like people with initials instead of names.)
I just don't know what poem I like best. It's been so long since I've even contemplated poetry - I gave that up as a genre for myself a very long time ago. I'm a tiresome and uninspired poet.
So, Katie has inspired me (see the "slightly savage" blog link to the right). This weekend, I'm going to figure out what my favorite poem is.
When I was in high school, I loved Maya Angelou's "Phenomenal Woman."
Now I'm a wife, a mom, and sometimes a sort of intellectual. I know I like Sara Teasdale. I know I like e.e. cummings. I know I like W.H. Auden. (Apparently, I only like people with initials instead of names.)
I just don't know what poem I like best. It's been so long since I've even contemplated poetry - I gave that up as a genre for myself a very long time ago. I'm a tiresome and uninspired poet.
So, Katie has inspired me (see the "slightly savage" blog link to the right). This weekend, I'm going to figure out what my favorite poem is.
Major can already recognize the scent of a woman.
His comment yesterday morning with regards to my Sensual Amber body splash:
"Mama! You smell like WOMEN!!"
It wasn't until I recounted this to his father a few minutes later that I realized he (Major) has a lisp.
Translation: Mama! You smell like LEMON.
*sigh* It was probably just the lemon-scented Pledge.
"Mama! You smell like WOMEN!!"
It wasn't until I recounted this to his father a few minutes later that I realized he (Major) has a lisp.
Translation: Mama! You smell like LEMON.
*sigh* It was probably just the lemon-scented Pledge.
Monday, June 11, 2007
My children are fisherpeople.
How's that for gender-neutral?
Yesterday, we went to a fishing contest for kids in our town. My stepdad went with us and we had a BLAST.
To set the scene for you, Major has a Spongebob Squarepants fishing pole, and Maddy has a Disney Princesses one. They got them for Christmas, and yesterday was the first chance they've had to actually use them.
The contest cost $5/child for cash prizes. Whoever catches the biggest fish, wins. (Spoiler: We didn't win. ) I wander around on the opposite side of the little city pond, which is liberally stocked with catfish, and pay the entry fee. I chat a bit with the old fellas who run the contest and measure the fishes.
So, we sit down on the banks of the little pond and my stepdad (hereafter: Pop) attaches the kids sinkers and bobbers and hooks and we bait the hooks. The kids try casting and nearly take their own eyes out with the flying hooks, so Pop and I do it for them and we sit down and wait. We're waiting less than 30 seconds before Major has a bite - a serious bite! Pop helps him reel it in, and it's a big old catfish! Major is so proud and happy he looks like he's about to burst. He wants to hug the catfish, but we're already stringing it on the stringer to take it and get it measured. We take a quick picture and then set off around the pond, where the old fellas praise Major heartily for such a great job and measure his fish: 14 inches! He's in Second Place and the man from the newspaper takes his picture.
The next fish is Maddy's, and it's about 10 minutes later - after a lot of casting and lost worms and hopeful glances at the bobber, Maddy lands a 16 inch catfish! She, unlike Major, would not like to hug it. She doesn't even want to touch it. As we're reeling it in, the old fellas start hollering across the pond "GOOOOO MADDY!!!! YAY MADDY!!!" She's so proud. The newspaper man takes her picture, too.
Maddy ends up with three catfish - 17, 16 and 14 inches. Major ends up with two catfish - 14 and 13.75 inches, and a little bluegill (maybe 4 inches?) that he caught and landed ALL BY HIMSELF. He reeled it in, landed it and then stepped on it for good measure.
It was fun. I took pictures on my mom's camera, so as soon as she downloads them, I'll post them!
Yesterday, we went to a fishing contest for kids in our town. My stepdad went with us and we had a BLAST.
To set the scene for you, Major has a Spongebob Squarepants fishing pole, and Maddy has a Disney Princesses one. They got them for Christmas, and yesterday was the first chance they've had to actually use them.
The contest cost $5/child for cash prizes. Whoever catches the biggest fish, wins. (Spoiler: We didn't win. ) I wander around on the opposite side of the little city pond, which is liberally stocked with catfish, and pay the entry fee. I chat a bit with the old fellas who run the contest and measure the fishes.
So, we sit down on the banks of the little pond and my stepdad (hereafter: Pop) attaches the kids sinkers and bobbers and hooks and we bait the hooks. The kids try casting and nearly take their own eyes out with the flying hooks, so Pop and I do it for them and we sit down and wait. We're waiting less than 30 seconds before Major has a bite - a serious bite! Pop helps him reel it in, and it's a big old catfish! Major is so proud and happy he looks like he's about to burst. He wants to hug the catfish, but we're already stringing it on the stringer to take it and get it measured. We take a quick picture and then set off around the pond, where the old fellas praise Major heartily for such a great job and measure his fish: 14 inches! He's in Second Place and the man from the newspaper takes his picture.
The next fish is Maddy's, and it's about 10 minutes later - after a lot of casting and lost worms and hopeful glances at the bobber, Maddy lands a 16 inch catfish! She, unlike Major, would not like to hug it. She doesn't even want to touch it. As we're reeling it in, the old fellas start hollering across the pond "GOOOOO MADDY!!!! YAY MADDY!!!" She's so proud. The newspaper man takes her picture, too.
Maddy ends up with three catfish - 17, 16 and 14 inches. Major ends up with two catfish - 14 and 13.75 inches, and a little bluegill (maybe 4 inches?) that he caught and landed ALL BY HIMSELF. He reeled it in, landed it and then stepped on it for good measure.
It was fun. I took pictures on my mom's camera, so as soon as she downloads them, I'll post them!
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