That’s right, folks. I was wrong. So, so wrong. When I said earlier in the summer that I was going to be driven insane by my children before the summer was out. I was RIGHT. But I was totally wrong when I said I was reeeeeaaaalllly looking forward to them going back to school. B/c I really am not. The school year has begun and my joie de vivre has up and left. I should be thrilled that my youngest has finally been peeled from my side. But I am not. B/c she could be here w/ me. telling me how great I am four times an hour and insisting that we make concoctions out of stuff we find in the kitchen. My older daughter is now at school. Learning how to write in cursive. Hanging out w/ her best buds and telling them funny stories. As I sit here, being pecked half to death by my bird WHO HAS NEVER BEEN HAPPIER IN HER LIFE, I feel strangely alone.
Month: August 2008
Playing favorites.
I try very hard in my daily existence NOT to play favorites, but sometimes even I cannot help it. Each morning as I rise from bed I vow NOT TODAY. but by the time I am dressed I have succumbed. I am not talking about my children, people. I am talking about my underpants.
Each morning I pull open the drawer and eyeball the selection. I look for my favorites first. The cute patterned ones w/ the low rise. The ones which fit but aren’t tight. The ones which make me feel HAPPY and yet do not ride up my nether regions or shuffle down my hips to my feet. I push the Jockey cotton ones away unless it is that time of the month. In an emergency I reach for the Hanes briefs. They always fit, though they are boring. But sometimes you don’t have time to ponder your panties. The Warner’s Bright Stripes I inherited from my mommy take up the rest of the drawer. Yes I do have hand-me-down underwear and they are ginormous. I call them my “SPANKIE PANTS” b/c they remind me of the underwear I used to wear as a kid. Big hefty things which come up to (nearly) my chest. Which wear like iron and will last until I am well into my 80s I am sure. I wear them only when I will be donning a skirt or dress which comes up to my natural waist. Otherwise the underwear hangs out over the top of my clothing and it looks really weird.
Underwear — that secret layer of protection against the world, sometimes all that stands between you and that great chasm of darkness. Underwear — the great unifier. Worldwide, we all go through a similar routine. And each one of us (not going commando) must come to that crucial decision. WHICH PAIR SHALL I WEAR?
Choosing the right pair of underwear is IMPORTANT. Even though no one else sees them, they are the closest thing to your private parts, and your performance throughout the day will be impacted by them. If you are wearing tight, shifty, bunchy, scrunchy and/or droopy drawers, you will – without fail – be thinking more of them than anything else. To the point that you may even excuse yourself to the restroom to remove said garment – thus rendering us ALL AT RISK. Face it. UNDERWEAR MATTERS. Your level of personal comfort and peace of mind is directly correlated as much w/ your choice of clothing & footwear as it is to the undergarments hiding beneath.
And yet no one ever talks about their underwear. At least not in polite company. Even when you get to work and that great big wedgie of dissatisfaction is building up so badly you want to scream EGADS! THESE PANTIES IS MAKING ME CRAZY!!!! You are left alone w/ your private torture. Like when I wear the high-riding blue underwear I got married in – even though they do not fit comfortably and I should have known better. Or one of the 12 thongs I own which act as slingshots, since each of them is a size too big. That striped pair of boy shorts which covers the barest wisp of booty, leaving me w/ perpetual plumbers crack. Or those green ones which say sz 6 but we both know are LYING.
I have 2 dozen pairs of ill-fitting underpants which will simply never work. And yet, I cannot bear to part with them. Routinely I cull through the herd I call my wardrobe and send the castoffs to the thrift shoppe. Why is it so easy for me to part with unnamed pairs of pants, tops which no longer look good, and yet I feel guilty getting rid of the umpteen pairs of underpants which routinely sit, unworn, at the back of my underwear drawer?? I shuffle them from side to side every single day, brushing past them in my reach for the CHOSEN ONES, and yet, I do not part w/ them. WHY?? B/c I feel GUILTY. Terribly, terribly guilty. People somewhere would trade their eyetooth for that pair of red lacy Victoria’s Secrets which itch and plague me so. When other people can’t even afford new clothes, how could I be so callous as to toss perfectly good underwear? Throwing away something like that – well, That’s just plain WRONG.
BUT What can you do w/ underwear you do not want to wear? It’s not like I can offer it to a friend. Or neighbor. I am moderator of West Philly Freecycle, and yet, the idea of posting an OFFER of my used undies makes me shudder. I am reluctant to send them to the thrift shoppe, b/c even though I have bought used towels there, there are simply some things I do not think they should sell. I could set up some sort of business selling them on eBay but frankly even I have my limits. And so they remain. Tucked away in the drawer for goodness knows how long. Feeling cruelly rejected each time they get the morning diss. Waiting. for that last cold shove into the garbage bag.
Stuff you wanted to know about me.
Welcome Friends & Strangers!
I have noticed that many of you keep coming back to visit. and that makes me very happy. I know how hard it is finding good reading material at work – particularly in the bathroom. After all, there are only so many times one can read “Hiney Hiders” on the metal lock before getting bored.
SO. THANK YOU FOR CHOOSING ME! I don’t think enough bloggers are really truly grateful for their audience. Not like me. I am HONORED to be your queen. Knowing you care so much – well, it’s almost like having my own little fan club. Sure, celebrities complain all the time about the intrusion into their personal lives, but for the rest of us it’s just FUN. And I haven’t had to do anything really terrific to earn you. Not like star in a motion picture, or invent something stupendous, or even expose myself. Kudos!
I have noticed recently that several of my online posse (The SASSY LADIES OF BLOGDOM, or the SLOBs) have posted lists detailing heretofore-unbeknownst-details of their personal lives. And I thought WOW. WHAT A FIND. Salacious details. FOR FREE. Not only am I extraordinarily nosy, but I also enjoy knowing other people’s deepest most darkest secrets. Today I would like to share w/ you some stories ALL ABOUT ME. Because, frankly, what else are you here for?
1. Just to break the ice. I do not smoke pot but I am addicted to incense. I light sticks of it all day long. The very best incense I’ve found is made by a small company in Ohio called WILD BERRY. My neighbor has suggested I am a closet pot addict b/c of this tendency. HAHAHAHAHAHHA. No. Everyone who knows me knows I am a wino who abhors smoking. No joke.
2. When I was 4, I saw an Indian pow-wow in my backyard. I was watching through our window. The Indians were wearing feathered headdresses and sitting in a circle. When the Chief looked up and saw me watching, he got up & started coming at me. He looked really angry (presumably b/c I was watching). I remember pulling the curtain back quickly and being worried.. But nothing ever happened. I am still not sure if the Indians were real. or ghosts.
3. My younger daughter just started peeling the sunburned skin off my back. She gets very intent on what she is doing, and insists that I cooperate. Strangely, I like the sensation. It sort of reminds me of my crazy little bird Kiwi. I recently saw a David Attenborough program, Life of Birds, which talks about ox-peckers doing the same thing. They aide their hosts by removing parasites and dead skin – but they also often draw blood by pecking little surface cuts. The ox-pecker will pick pick pick at parasites and then dash back to lick a little off the wound. Kiwi – my crazy ass bird, does this. but Georgia most definitely does not. Thank God.
4. I get very annoyed when I am stopped on the street by people canvassing for politicians, political parties or the environment. Even when I totally agree w/ their agenda. I want to yell at them NO I DON”T HAVE A MINUTE FOR THE ENVIRONMENT. WHY ARE YOU ASKING ME FOR MONEY. YOU KNOW THE $10 BUCKS I COULD GIVE YOU IS JUST PAYING FOR YOU TO STAND THERE. IT’S NOT HELPING ANYTHING. YOU’D BE BETTER OFF PANHANDLING. THEN AT LEAST I’D FEEL SORRY FOR YOU INSTEAD OF JUST FEELING HARASSED.
5. The house I grew up in had a large detached stone garage, with space downstairs for cars and a large loft above with electricity, where we’d store Christmas decorations. Beneath the garage there was a cellar. This cellar was used solely for storing excess firewood, and you could access it from a dark stairwell on the side of the building. This cellar had a name. The Snake Pit. I do not know whether there were any real snakes down there, but the name and reality of the place was more than enough to strike the fear of God into a child. I was never brave enough to go down to the Snake Pit myself, but when i got to high school, my dad used to make my boyfriend go down there to get logs. He’d yell LINC! GO GET SOME WOOD OUT OF THE SNAKE PIT!! And then when Linc left to get the wood, my dad would look at me. and SMILE.
6. My parents had a bus when I was a kid. A converted full-size school bus. It was painted black & white, and had wooden bunk beds in the back. But the damn thing never worked. We tried taking all the kids to the roller rink in it for one of my birthday parties, but we couldn’t get it started, Of course. Talk about a party pooper.
7. Today – August 22nd – marks 11 years since John & I had our very first date. HAPPY ANNIVERSARY BABY!
VErMoNT
We are BACK! Oh. You didn’t know I was away? CAN’T YOU SEE MY TAN??? Well maybe it’s b/c this past weekend we went to VERMONT. I must have neglected to post that tasty morsel last week, that we were going away for the weekend. Probably a good thing – since my husband already thinks I share a little too much information here. But you & I both know, EVERYONE LOVES FEET!!
ANYWAY. We just got back from our lil trip up north.. to VErMoNT. YES I like the way I spelled it there. It’s hilly, see, just like the state. Our friends have a cabin in Wardsboro and b/c they are the best people on the face of the planet, they let us use it FREE OF CHARGE. I don’t know about you, but THAT is pretty much the greatest thing anyone’s ever done for me – apart from helping me give birth.
Anyway, we left Friday and just got back last night. I was feeling a little depressed on the car ride home. I always do. You see, I don’t just enjoy these little trips to Vermont. No. I secretly – but not-so-secretly LONG to live there. Forever. But just in the summer. The problem is, I love Vermont. But i love it when it is warm. When we can go skinny-dipping and run around outside w/out clothes on, and bask in the sun in our birthday suits, and – OH. I am sorry, I’d forgotten you were here – Vermont in the summer is BLISS. heaven on earth. But Vermont in the winter is. COLD. Damn cold. Snowy. Lots of snow on the ground. and in the air. and everywhere. And did I mention it’s freaking cold there. And winter lasts 9 months long. Unless you count mud season. Which sort of cuts into the 3 mos of “summer”. SIGH…..
Yes I have been drinking. Today is my mom’s birthday – LOVE YOU MOO!
And now I will outline for you the details of our trip.
The first day (Saturday) was gorgeous. In Philly I think it was 90 degrees with 300% humidity, but in southern Vermont it was BEAUTIFUL. Until of course it started HAILING. Hail the size of macaroons. IN AUGUST. Whoa. Way to keep me on my toes, you crazy State, you. People were pulled over on the sides of the road it was so damn bad. BUT WE DIDN’T LET THAT STOP US, NO SIRREE. We drove into Brattleboro. If you have never been to the Brat, then you really must go. Seriously. It is the only town where tie-dye is an official uniform. We ran into a woman in Sam’s (their super duper army-navy store) and she was either certifiably insane or whacked out of her mind on acid. I believe it was the latter. That is the Brat.
We went to the Retreat Farm. Although we have traveled extensively throughout Vermont, and have petted many an animal in many a Vermont Farm, we like the Retreat the BEST. It has undergone a significant change in the 2 yrs since we were there last. I will not go into the sordid details. but the cows are G-O-N-E. The Grafton Cheese Co. has now set up shoppe where the large Dairy Barn used to be. I miss the cows. But the cheese is delicious and the petting can’t be beat. The ladies BEEEEEGGGGGGEEDDD us to go there first – out of anywhere else in Vermont – b/c there, only there, can you pet and cuddle and love up as many baby chicks as your heart desires. YES IT IS THAT GREAT. If you are an animal lover and have never held a sweet baby chicky in your life, then you must get into your car and drive there IMMEDIATELY. Open Tues – Sat, 10- 4.
The next day, (Sunday). we went to Jamaica. Jamaica State PARK, in Jamaica, VT. YES THAT IS A FUNNY COINCIDENCE. Maddie said Oh this isn’t where people always come when they say they’re going to Jamaica? YES IT IS NICE BEING 8.
So we spent the entire day hiking. with our children. I cannot believe it either. That they finally have gotten to the age where I no longer have to tote them around like luggage. And it was AWESOME. We walked to Hamilton Falls, the highest waterfall in the state, and even though our legs nearly fell off on the way (I am kidding – we are used to walking the hell out of our legs), it was breathtaking. Dramatic. Over 10 people have died there swimming, and maybe more – we saw a couple show-offs but didn’t stick around to watch. Then we walked alllllll the waaaaaayyyy back down to the trail and allll the waaaaaayyyyy up to the tippeee top of Ball Mt Dam. Quite a hike. Even w/ the legs I am used to abusing, I was tired. The trail is easy to follow but it’s steep w/ crazy gravelly switchbacks. We saw 2 families mountain-biking their way out and were like WHAT THE HELL. I would NOT recommend MT biking there UNLESS YOU ARE INSANE OR WHACKED OUT ON ACID. I spied some sort of creature – we could not determine what – either a squat deer or some sort of under-colored bear – which leaped from the side of the path and fled up the mountain. It was the fastest thing I’ve ever espied. If it were bigger I’d swear it was BIG FOOT, but that’s just a story. RIGHT>?
The next day was MONDAY. We spent the whole heaping helping day o fun at BROMLEY. I told John, baby, if I could ski when it’s warm, you KNOW I WOULD LOVE IT. B/c being at a ski resort is a BLAST. Esp/ when it is sunny beautiful and you are sitting under a umbrella eating an ice cream cone w/ jimmies. Or flying down a mountain at warp speed on an alpine slide. Or both. Or going through a dark water slide tunnel getting splashed and hearing your kid scream in terror-stricken delight. Either way, I liked it and I wanna go back a 3rd time. Afterwards, we ate dinner at Candeleros in Manchester. A+ PS: Curly, I am VERY SORRY to say Mother Myrick’s is no longer in its old digs. It may be somewhere else but we could not find it anywhere in Manchester.
Finally Tuesday came round and we had to leave. I was sad. Not only had the weekend flown by, but the weekend had flown by, and we had to come back. To Philly. Don’t get me wrong. I love my hometown. But there’s something to be said for a cool mountain morning, being woken at 7 am by your neighbor chainsawing lumber for winter firewood, that makes you say, Ahhhhh. CLICK HERE for photos from the Green Mt state.
PS: CONNIE, JUST GOT THE SCARF AND it is FABBBBUUULLOUSSSSSSS!!!!!!!! I am in MUPPET LOVE. Not only does it smell like heaven but it makes me feel as snuggly as Miss Piggy wrapped in Kermit’s loving arms w/ Fonzie Bear, Gonzo & a cherry on top. YOU ARE TOO WONDERFUL. Thank you Thank you THANK YOU, you dear awesome wonderful friend. xoxoxoxoxo
Playmobil = best toys EVERRRRRR.
Now that Maddie is WILD ABOUT BLOGGING, she’s encouraging me to post! As much as I enjoy blogging, I do have other stuff to do. However since today that “other stuff” means cleaning the house, who am I to argue? Welcome therefore to our *super special* joint post about PLAYMOBIL.
For those of you w/out children, Playmobil are toys. The coolest toys this side o’ paradise. In the past several months my kids have become addicted to all-things-Playmobil, and frankly – who can blame them?
Here are some of my favorites:
Guinea Pig Pen
BunnyLand Farm Set (is there anything cuter than a bunnyman w/ his own DEER??)
Hot Dog Cart Guy (w/ “authentic” weiners!)
BARBARIANS
Vulture Set w/ lifelike carrion
Months ago I posted about this little discovery for the criminally minded: SAFE CRACKERS.
Any company who goes into this much detail about every facet of life (criminal life included) gets my vote. That’s for sure. I am ALLLLLLL about realism. Even w/ my kids. No Stork Tales at our house, my friends! I haven’t checked, but I’d bet Playmobil’s even put together a true-to-life version of delivery, complete w/ little mommy and baby, placenta and cord. I’M SO THERE.
My daughters spend hours, and I mean hours, perusing the Playmobil site, gazing in wonder at all of their amazing toys, and compiling list after wish list of sets they would like to buy when they earn enough allowance. Daily they ask me, Mommy, how much have I earned so far?? Can I afford such-and-such? To which I reply, I don’t know. I am not sure. Save_your_money.
It’s not that I begrudge them these wonderful toys – b/c they are indeed awesome and make me want to play w/ them as much as my kids. It’s just that their Playmobil obsession just happens to conveniently coincide w/ my current lessons on financial independence. I just instituted weekly “chores” and remuneration for good works. So how am I supposed to drill into my daughters the value of hard work and saving, the importance of managing money well, when all they want to do is spend it as quickly as they earn it??
Oh well. They are young. Life is for fun. And BOY will we have a WHOPPING WORLD OF FUN!!!!! playing w/ all our their new Playmobil sets!!!!! Pssst. Don’t tell them I said so.