Weekend Update (In No Particular Order)

(Okay...in absolutely no order at all. Don't believe me when I reference "today" because it probably wasn't today at all, it was probably yesterday. Or, today.)

*Every Friday night we try to do something for "Family Night." This almost always involves going out to eat because quite frankly, coming up with something to eat every night of the week, then making it, then cleaning up after it, gets really old pretty damn quick. So, off we went to the Outback Steakhouse. It's the best cheap steak money can buy.

As we were all sitting and chit chatting, our waiter walked up with our tray of drinks and as he passed behind me, dumped said tray of drinks straight down my back. I maintained remarkable calm as iced tea, Diet Coke and and a small army of ice cubes slid down my back and then down my pants. There's nothing quite like sitting with a wet t-shirt in a pool of beverages while ice cubes melt in your thong underwear. Typically when I'm in a wet t-shirt, I'm in some kind of contest with the possibility of at least winning a prize.

I spent the rest of the evening in wet pants. The manager was kind enough (scared enough?) to give me a dry t-shirt to wear. I noticed as I walked across the restaurant that all of the bus boys were wearing the same t-shirt. For a brief moment, I seriously considered clearing some plates and collecting the tip money. I spent a lot the evening reassuring our waiter that I was fine and that I was not upset. He tried to make it up to me by giving me a dessert, "on the house." Quite frankly, this was a much better experience than getting cracked in the back of the head with a three foot long pepper grinder at a restaurant a few years ago. Ow.

I don't get people who flip out when things like this happen to them. What's the point? I mean, the guy didn't walk up to me and purposely throw the drinks at me and call me Fatty or anything. If that would have been the case, I would have walked away with more than a free t-shirt and brownie. I would have made him pay for my booze!

*An old friend from high school...we'll call him M, contacted me through Facebook. Or, I contacted him. I can't remember. Anyhoo, the other day he told me that he'd read my blog from first post to last and that it was like crack. "Once I started, I couldn't stop and when I finished, I had a wicked headache." *sniffle* Isn't that touching?! So, I went to respond to a message from him on Facebook yesterday and BAM! He wasn't there. What the hell?! Wherever you are, M...thanks for reading my blog. And...I miss your wise ass e-mails.

*Today Mr. Right and I dragged (and I mean this almost literally. Snotty and Grumpy were none too happy about going) to Phoenix to a champagne brunch at the United Cerebral Palsy Foundation of Central Arizona. This was kind of a swanky little affair put on by UCP for the purpose of thanking those who have helped raise money for their center. Mr. Right is majorly involved in fundraising for them through his company and we wanted the kids to see what it is that he spends some of his time doing and what we as a family will be contributing to regularly. They were bored to tears. Ungrateful little dwarfs. I however, not only got to see where our money has been going (and I'm glad it's going there), but also had two lovely mimosas and got possibly the most stupid looking sunburn you've ever seen in your life.

After the champagne brunch, I slept all the way home which was an hour long drive. I walked through our door, somehow managed to get up the stairs, and sprawled out on the bed. I slept for three hours. I guess that muscle relaxer I took last night for my bum shoulder hadn't quite worn off yet. Between it and the champagne, lights out. I can't even remember the last time I took a nap in the middle of the day though! I should really do that more often! (Yeah...right.)

*Mr. Right played in a softball tournament for his office on Friday. My little Alex and I went to cheer him on. These were Alex's cheers: "Go Daddy, go Daddy, go Daddy, go!!" and "You're the best daddy EVER!!" About thirty minutes into the game, our little cheerleader was giving Daddy Advil for the muscle he'd just pulled in his leg. Daddy is not in very good shape. Daddy is now hobbling around like an old man and Mommy is going to tease him relentlessly to pay him back for constantly telling her how old and crippled she is.

*I've had dreams about my cockatiel, Darwin, for the past two nights now. I have no idea what's up with that. I think he's causing me to be really insecure. I baby this bird like...well...a baby. He has a freakin' palace of a cage with every little toy and dish imaginable. I love him and kiss him and hold him and I cater to him like he's a king. I change his water inside and outside of the cage three times a day or so and make sure he always has fresh food and Cheerios. He should LOVE me! But, as soon as Darwin hears Mr. Right's voice or sees him, he goes nuts. He runs to the side of his perch and sticks his head feathers straight up and waits for Mr. Right to come into sight. Then when he sees Mr. Right, he looks like he has the jitters and he paces nervously until Mr. Right acknowledges him. He will also only whistle in return to Mr. Right. He will carry on an entire conversation in Birdish with Mr. Right and looks at me like I'm a complete moron when I try to whistle to him. I try really hard not to take it personally, but I think it's really getting to me. Another small creature in my house who completely ignores me. Yeah, like I need that.

*Today in his hunt for lunch, Mr. Right opened the refrigerator, pulled out a dish and thrust it in front of my face. "Do you think this is still good?" I looked at him and said, "I dunno. Does it smell good?" He replied, "I don't know if it smells good! Just tell me yes or no!" This is a pretty common exchange in my house. Everyone who lives here is under the impression that I possess a 7th sense that they do not. They think that I can immediately ascertain whether or not leftover macaroni and cheese has expired just by looking at it. I think I'm going to get one of those magic 8 balls from the toy store and roll it in secret every time I'm asked if food has expired. I'll just let the 8 ball answer for me. "Honey...does this chicken look like it will kill me?" I'll roll the magic 8 ball and say mysteriously..."Signs point to yes..."

It's That Time Again

Yes, Dear Friends, it's time for another crappy poem. But first, I'd like to tell you a funny little story. One of those stories that's funny in the sense that it is completely humiliating to me.

Mr. Right's Aunt H was to our house for a visit one time. We were discussing writing as Aunt H is quite an established writer and has been published. I told her that I dabbled in poetry and she asked if she could read some of what I'd written. "Well!" I told her, "I just happen to have all of my poems bound in this nifty notebook!" As Aunt H sat in the corner (not literally) and read my illustrious body of work, the rest of us in the room chatted away. About fifteen minutes later, Aunt H quietly closed the notebook and folded her hands on top of it. She caught my eye and looked at me in all seriousness and said, "You should write greeting cards."

Now, I don't know how you would have interpreted that, but I almost spewed Diet Dr. Pepper out of my nose. Fifteen years of pouring all of my artistic angst into my poetry and Aunt H reduces it to, "You should write greeting cards."

I thought for one brief moment about telling her that I was in fact a published author as well. I thought better of it quite quickly as I didn't think she'd be much impressed by the fact that one of my poems had been published in a local Oklahoma paper called, The Red Dirt Review. ( I mean, how redneck is that?) The other was published in an ever so classy staple bound half-book called, Voices From The Valley, which was another local publication. (I did, however, receive a royalty check for $7.00 from that one. Does this mean I've lost my amateur status?!)

Anyway, Aunt H ended all hope for me of ever being anything but a hack. The following crappy poem is one of about five that I wrote, egotistically thinking what marvelous children's books they'd make. (Maybe I should write greeting cards for children...)

To the moon and back on a witch’s broom,
Is what I’d rather be doing instead of cleaning my room!

Mom sent me in here to clean up the mess,
But there are so many things I could be doing instead.

I could make some tea to serve to my bear,
And bake a cake and comb my doll’s hair.

I could be a ballerina and dance ‘round the floor,
And bow to the crowd as they let out a roar!

I’d rather do anything but clean my room-
Like play the drum in a band...boom, boom, boom!

Or join the circus and ride an elephant’s back-
And swing from a trapeze and hear the crowd clap!

If I weren’t in here having to clean this place,
I could be swinging from stars and twirling through space.

I could be on safari feeding giraffes-
Swinging with monkeys and making hyenas laugh.

I’d rather be splashing in the puddles outside,
Or going head first down a fifty- foot slide!

Oh the things I could do, I could sing, I could dance-
Sail the ocean so blue and stomp grapes in France!

I could be a fairy princess in a shiny pink dress...
Hey! I hear Mom coming! I’d better get busy,
My room is a MESS!

So, I'm sure you want to go get drunk now. I know I sure do.

Getting To Know Me

It's interesting, this blogging community. Sometimes you think you can tell what a person is like by reading what they write, and maybe you can...sometimes. But people have lots of layers and lately, my Pessimistic Grumpy layer has been revealing itself. I've decided (after re-reading my promise to myself at the beginning of the new year to find my joy) to slough off that layer and let the real Amy out.

So, for those of you who think you know me by reading my crappy poetry and my gloomier (if it's not a word, it should be) blogs, here are some things you probably wouldn't know about me by reading my blogs:

1. I have no middle name. Actually, I do…now. When I married Mr. Right, I kept my maiden name as my middle name. Bada bing-bada boom. Unfortunately, my maiden name is 10 letters long, so I only use the initial.

2. I can spread my toes out on both feet into perfect fans. Throw in some webbing and I’d be a duck. This talent came in really handy when I wanted to run my sisters off so I could have their place on the couch to watch t.v. I’d throw the old feet up on the coffee table, fan out the toes and bodies scattered.

3. I have a nervous habit of pushing back my cuticles. Nervous habit = well groomed hands.

4. I love spicy food and can hold my own against most grown men when it comes to Scoville units.

5. I will try almost any food so long as it was not once an organ in a living thing. My mother tried to starve me during my childhood by frequently serving liver and onions. I didn’t know about D.H.S. then or I would have called.

6. I am a snob and have disdain for those who won’t even TRY new food. Oh…and just because you tried it once…when you were 10…doesn’t get you out of having to try it now. (Yes…I’ve tried liver, and tongue and…oh gag. I can’t go on.)

7. I love music and love to dance. (I hope to someday be the oldest living club hag. Maybe not. That just made me kind of sad thinking about it.)

8. I am 1/16 Cherokee, but I’m mostly German and French. This might go some ways in explaining my love of Grandmother Earth, my yen for good bread and my lack of a decent chin.

9. I read banned books because #1, they’ve been banned and I won’t have anyone telling me I can’t read them and #2, because if there’s something out there someone doesn’t want me to read, you can bet your aunt’s pajamas there’s some really good shit in there.

10. People think I’m mad when I’m not. My Deep in Thought look greatly resembles the look of someone who has just been urinated on. This is an impediment which I cannot seem to overcome.

11. I love books. Not just the reading of them, but actually the having of them. I would love to have a gigantic library in my home someday filled with tons of books. Then of course, I would need a gigantic tree in my back yard under which I would read. It’s the very best place for reading.

12. I get choked up every time I sing our National Anthem. (Except for when some yahoo sings it and completely jacks it up beyond recognition.)

13. My favorite candy is Smarties. I believe they’ve made me smarter.

14. I am 5’4” but thought I was 5’2” for two years. When my now husband and I were dating he asked how tall I was and I told him 5’4”. He said he didn’t believe it so he got out a tape measure and measured me. He said, “See?” and showed me the tape measure. Sure enough…5’2”. For the next two years I put 5’2” as my height on any form that asked. One day at my doctor’s office, he measured me and I said, “How tall does it say I am?” He said, “5’4.”” My husband looked at me and grinned from ear to ear.

15. I never believe anything my husband says.

16. I love salt. I salt everything except things that are sweet.

17. I have low blood pressure. Low enough that I have to list it on doctors and dentists forms. I love this because it pisses my mom off. She always rode me about salting everything, guaranteeing me that I was going to have astronomically high blood pressure.

18. I am married to the Perfect Man…for me. His name is Mr. Right. (Mr. Always Right.)

19. I used to be a disc-jockey. At a country music station. I hate country music.

20. I believe in random acts of kindness and try to find opportunities for them as often as possible. (Yes, I’m shallow and vain and sometimes crude…but I’m nice. Shut up. I am.)

21. I’m a Neatnik and am fine with it. Some people seem almost insulted by it. What’s wrong with neat? Neat is good.

22. I have completely inappropriate thoughts at completely inappropriate times. I manage to control it… mostly…and they just stay in my head. They’ve not stayed in my head enough times for me to have been dubbed as “weird” on more than one occasion. I used to hate the “weird” label but strangely, I’ve come to think of it as a compliment. It means I’m not one of the herd. Or, maybe I’m just weird.)

23. Thanks to my weird mother (Her name is Barbara. It means “strange”. Look it up. I swear), I use old-fashioned words and phrases in my everyday speech. (I also use a lot of Yiddish. Oy.) My tween daughter, The Snot, didn’t speak to me for a week because I used the word “shindig” in front of her friends. I’ve promised her I won’t use that word in front of her friends anymore. I’ll say, “hootenanny.”

24. I used to be the personal assistant to a Rabbi. (Bingo! Now the Yiddish thing becomes clear!) I worked in a synagogue that practiced a completely kosher tradition. I used to sneak beef jerky in and eat it while making copies in the copy room. I don’t believe in Hell, but if it turns out there is one, I’m going.

25. I loathe scary movies. My imagination is way too overactive to handle them. After seeing, I Am Legend, at the theatre, I didn’t sleep for days. I also wouldn’t go into a dark room for about three months. I had to start watching re-runs of the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air just to convince myself that Will Smith was okay. I will not go to a scary movie with you. Don’t ask.

So, there you have it.

Oh...the picture is of me when I was four. This was my very favorite dress and my very favorite necklace. My sisters were horrified when they found out that our mother was taking me to their school to have my picture taken on picture day. They begged her not to let me wear that necklace with that dress. To this day, it's one of my very favorite pictures. (Thanks, Mom.)

Proceed With Caution

A realization just hit me. I've been censoring myself. Damn it!

When I started this blog, it was a vehicle (a cute little lavender diesel VW bug) for me to vent a little, journal a little, shoot off my loud mouth a little, etc. No one even knew I existed out here in Cyberland.

Then, somehow it seemed that overnight, a few people were reading what I was writing. Some of these people were strangers, some were extended family and some were in-laws. Without noticing, I began to self-censor what I was writing.

Don't get me wrong here. Self-censorship is the only censorship I think should exist. But, I was not writing certain things...like swear words...because I knew that some of the people reading might be offended.

Last night as I was laying in bed going through my usual ritual of trying to sleep but failing to do so before Mr. Right started his nightly freight train impressions, I was thinking about my blog (This is a strange new malady I've been struck with) and the censoring thereof, and suddenly remembered that my original blog post was a caveat of sorts. I believe I actually warned any possible future readers that I'm a loud mouth who likes to swear. I think it also contained a warning about my religious and political views. It was kind of a warning label, a buyer beware.

So, I'm uncensoring myself. In a way. I still will attempt to not write anything that I feel would personally hurt someone but can't quite help it if someone finds something in what I write that is offensive. I gotta be me!!

So, off we go. Feel free to come along for the ride. (Bring a cocktail or two. I'm not really driving.)

Virtual Frustration

This word verification issue on blogger is annoying, no? I've decided to circumvent the system and have my say anyway.

*Amy Dubdbub - Regarding your Ina post: I love to cook with Ina and Paula! Eric & I tune in Sandra Lee for comic relief. We tune her in just so we can heckle her. (Yes, we're really that shallow.) And to Bob who commented: I can't believe you don't watch Sandra Lee! Her "abilities" are cracka-lackin!

*Alice - Regarding your spectacular Monday: I'm so happy that your day turned out to be such a nice one! And, what are you thinking?! Working out for two hours?! I started breathing heavily just reading that.

*Reya - Regarding your Steal This Book post: How do you keep coming up with these brilliant and beautiful metaphors?! I love reading what you write.

*CherryDawn - Regarding your comment: Thanks so very much for dropping in! Your comment was much appreciated.

*Angie - Regarding your book a day: I'm going through withdrawal! Hurry up, Blogger.com!!!

So, there. Just try and stop me from having my say!

A Love Note

While reading an article the other day, I ran across this tidbit:

"If you look around and you notice that all your friends are exactly the same as you, it's healthy to think something is wrong."

This made me stop and assess my friendships, past and present, and I must say...I'm pretty happy to find that my friendships continue to be diverse and colorful. My friends are all religions...or none at all, different cultural backgrounds and sexual orientations. For me, the diversity is what helps make my life seem interesting and full.

It's one of the cool things about belonging to the blogging community as well. You can interact with so many interesting people from all over the world and as you begin to read their thoughts, you see that you have tons in common with these wonderful people. It's further broadening my horizons and stretching my consciousness. Shazam!

Fellow bloggers Reya and Angela have both written blogs containing the idea of threads that weave us all together. It's such a lovely idea and it makes me think of quilts. A quilt of humanity, sewn together by assorted threads, resulting in a beautiful patchwork creation. I've always liked best, the quilts that have tons of various colors and patterns mixed up in them. To me, they're by far the most interesting and the most beautiful.

So, this is a little love note to my friends wherever they may be (sadly, most are so far away from me) and to my fellow bloggers. You add to my life and make it colorful and rich. I hope that as I weave my thread through the quilt, that I add something to yours as well.

Mob Mom

I'm beginning to think that my children aren't who they claim to be. I think they're members of the Capone family who turned state's evidence and entered the Witness Protection Program. They used my uterus as a clever hideout until it was safe to come out and now they live out their lives in this quiet little piece of Suburbia, strong arming their innocent "parents."

Sunday, Eric was preparing to wash his work car in the driveway and was gathering all of the equipment. The thirteen year old gang member, Fem Skinny A, inquired of him what he was doing. When he said, "Washing my car. Wanna help?" she narrowed her eyes and said, "For five dollars."

What?! I remember jumping at the chance to help one of my sisters wash their car in the front yard. It meant the opportunity to get wet and soapy and messy and that was reward alone!

The other gangster that lives in my house, Big Bubba B has mastered the skill of Will You Pay Half? He's also very skilled at, I Forgot My Wallet Can I Pay You Later? and, It's Only... (fill in amount here). He's so adept at these that he barely blinks an eye when he tries to pull one off.

Fem Skinny A has also really begun the strong arm tactics. When we ask her to babysit her four year old sister, she presses us with "How much you gonna pay me?" Or, "I may be available, I may not."

Again...what?!

I grew up in a family with five sisters and we NEVER got paid for babysitting. When my sister had kids, I babysat for them and it was a given that it would be pro bono. Now this little gangster thinks that allowing her sister to cut her own hair and destroy the house while we're gone deserves twenty bucks!

I'm not absolutely sure about the Capone connection here, but just to be safe, I've put in a call to Geraldo Rivera.