Weekend w/ Mommy part two

It’s hard to top the March Madness that was Weekend w/ Mommy (part one), but we were willing to try. That’s right everyone, my Mommy is HERE.  IN PHILLY. RIGHT NOW AS I TYPE!!! take THAT, Atlanta.

Saturday night. The Borgata. After the buffet, a decent $5 chardonnay and 2 cloyingly sweet but free white wines, here were the totals.  Me $161.50. NOT TOO SHABBY. John $69. WOOHOO.  My mom: HAD FUN ANYWAY.  And we’ll leave it at that.

Sunday. Peddler’s Village. Brunch @ the Cock n’ Bull. The corn pudding was excellent and the petit fours a dream.  Post meal roundup: Me, Mommy, Maddie & Georgia, ALL OKAY.  John: NOT.  B/c John got food poisoning and spent the car ride home vomiting into a shopping bag.

Afterward, John & I went to the Eagles game. YES MY HUSBAND IS A TROOPER.  And thank Goodness.  B/c the game was AMAZING. Except that this was my view.

And this was John’s.

Yes, that is a security guard sitting on my husband’s lap.

Although my husband put a brave face on things, by the end of the game it had gotten OLD.  When we complained, we were cursed out by the higher-up security guards on the field – the one even threatened to beat the hell out of John.

On a good note, I was not sat upon. And after the game, David Akers threw his wristband to ME! And I also caught Deshawn Jackson’s sweaty towel.  Both of which I immediately put on.  ANd even though everyone around me said EWWWwWWwWwW.   I said AHHHhhHHHHHHhHHHH.

My friends are the BEST.

THANK YOU, everyone, for your incredible expressions of sympathy. I cannot tell you how much it cheered me up. Seriously. you guys are the BEST.

The past few days I’ve felt like something on the bottom of a shoe, but today the sky is blue, the birds are singing and all seems right again w/ the world. It stings to look out the back window and see Prudence’s lonely hutch there w/out her. But I made arrangements to pick up her ashes in a couple weeks, and returning her to the place she loved will bring closure to the circle. I didn’t realize it would take so long to have a private cremation for a rabbit. But for only $85, who’s complaining? That wouldn’t even cover my toenails at a funeral parlor.

The insurance companies are handling the accident claim. It’s good to know we’re getting something out of allll thatt moneeeyyy spent on insurance.

SO. I have been unbelievably busy the past couple weeks, and feel like I haven’t been blogging, or even reading blogs. I have no time. NONE. I’m only on the computer b/c I snuck away. My daughters are now both home for the summer. The next 11 weeks. I counted.

C’MMMOONNN August 26th!!!!

Who knew two sweet girls could be such ruffians? I am not joking. These kids fight all day long. If one of them isn’t complaining abut the other, it’s probably b/c they’re plotting something else. SERIOUSLY, I need one of those tiny tape recorders so I don’t go hoarse. W/ the touch of a button I’d simply start the playback loop:
QUIT IT!!!
I DON’T CARE WHAT SHE DID.
TIME OUT!
WOULD YOU PLEASE STOP TOUCHING ME.
YES, I HEEEEARRRRRD YOU. THAT IS THE THIRD TIME YOU ASKED> I SAID WAITTTT.
LEAVE YOUR SISTER ALLLLOOOOONE.
STOP IT. NOW. I MEAN IT. CUT IT OOOOUUUUTT. NOOOOOW.
PICK UP YOUR [insert item].
WHERERRE ARE YOUR SHOESS???????????????
NO – MEANS NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO,
ICE CREAM IS NOT BREAKFAST, and BY THE WAY DID you have to leave it out on the coffee table??? ARE YOU SLOW?? Did you not think I would be pissed that a) you were eating ice cream at 6 o’clock in the morning??, and b) THAT YOU LET IT MELT?? all over the effing table. next to a PILE OF CHIPS. You two stink at this. You have to be SNEAKY. SNEAAAAAAKKKKY. That means putting it ALL BACK before I come down here in the morning. But no…
.

Yes, I am going a little insane. For some reason, these kids want to be entertained 24/7. They think I am Julie, your cruise director from the Love Boat. I guess it’s my fault. We have been renting the first season of Love Boat episodes from Netflix and MAN, my daughters are HOOKED. My husband has given up. He was patient for a little while, as long as I plied him with a steeping quantity of wine and/or whiskey, but no more. He says he has reached his Love Boat limit. Granted, the shows are a little formulaic. And YES you do know what is going to happen as soon as the passengers board. The acting’s bad. I know it’s not PBS. BUT He just doesn’t understand. I spent hours watching the Love Boat as a child. It was **MAGICAL**.

ANYWAY, John graduated Saturday. and now is the proud owner of a masters degree in Information Science. We’d made plans to attend commencement, but at the very last minute John changed his mind. so we went to the Borgata instead. I have to say, WAY TO GO JOHN! a MUCH more pleasant way to spend a Saturday night. After stuffing our faces at the Buffet, John & the girls hit the beach and Mom-Mom & I hit the slots. LO & BEHOLD, those sneaky tricksters at the Borgata played a shell game w/ my secret luckiest winningest machine and MOVED IT. Damn! Oh well. I won $47 on another machine, and John’s grandmom won $94. I like winning money. Almost as much as being sent UNBELIEVABLY MARVVVELOUS PRESENTS IN THE MAIL when I least expect them! WOW.

JUST LOOK at this absolutely STUNNING scarf I rec’d yesterday from my brilliant pal Tracey. Who soooooo totally ROCKS!!! Thanks so much Trace!!!!!!!! As you can see, Kiwi has already made herself comfortable. I LOVE IT.

Weekend with Mommy

My weekend in one word:

CHA-CHING!!!!!!!!!!

And in two:

CHA CHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

For those of you who are vision impaired, Saturday night I won $738.50 at the Borgata Casino Hotel & Spa on a slot machine. I will NOT tell you which one b/c it is now my secret luckiest winniest machine ever and MINE ALONE. Plus I do NOT want to encourage anyone in the folly that is gambling. Let’s face it folks, you are probably better off going into the bathroom, taking out your wallet and flushing it down the toilet than to try to WIN AT GAMBLING b/c it ain’t gonna happen. EXCEPT FOR ME!!!!!!!! WOOHOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

What a magnificently crazy fun-filled weekend!! Today I am trying to get back into the swing of things, but frankly I’m really not feeling much inclined. And who can blame me? The prospect of laundry and chores, bleech. I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet, and I might not now b/c I AM RICH. I am ready to retire for good. Like my good friend Jim next door who has thrown in the towel after 36 glorious years. And I am not speaking of 36 years of WORK – Oh NO! He is 36 and has decided to retire. B/c THAT is West Philly living and I LOVE IT!

SO where was I?? Oh yes, the weekend was grand. Well to be honest it started out a little shitty, but what else could it be when a sewer line backs up into your basement? Ahhhhh. Nothing like the smell of poop in the morning. Or the afternoon. Cause that’s how long it took us to remedy THAT lil problem. And by US you know of course I mean my beloved husband, b/c he’s the one who had to touch the stuff. YUM-YUM. Here is a photo for your enjoyment:

Look at that hand. He joked that he was going to rinse it in gasoline, but I do not think he actually did. At least not while I was watching. He had to go to the Home Depot and rent a big giant snake. It is a tool for plunging out your sewer line and not the fanged animal of course, though that would have been preferable to the poo. So the weekend’s festivities got off to a bit of a late start, but you can see how Saturday night finished, so who cares. right? My husband is the BEST.

Sunday we took in the last day at the Philadelphia Flower Show. They were not being persnickety about which door you used either, much to my relief. Though of course you had to buy tickets which of course did not come cheap. But that’s o-kay b/c our weekend was ON THE BORGATA. So the flowers were fun, the swarming masses much less so. We ate lunch across the street at the Reading Terminal Market. We had cheesesteaks at Rick’s, which is still there, at least until the court date in June. I had not eaten at Rick’s for quite some time and realized why. No offense to Rick’s, but they are one of the few (if only) Philly cheesesteak joints that 1) don’t chop their meat, which I don’t care for, and 2) offer the “works” aka lettuce & tomato on the steaks. As a Philadelphian I have to say this is weird. I have eaten steaks all my life and have yet, until this weekend, to see hoagie fixins on one unless it’s a HOAGIE. Oh well. It was otherwise o-kay. And of course we had Bassett’s which rocks above all others. I had pumpkin AND peach on one cone and it was simply Heaven in an ice cream.

Yesterday we spent the day at Peddler’s Village in Lahaska. My parents used to live minutes from there in New Hope, and my mommy hadn’t been back since moving to Atlanta. Almost a year and a half ago. So we took the tour and tooled past her old pad. It was not looking too bad, but it just wasn’t the same. We spent the rest of the afternoon eating and playing games at Giggleberry Fair, the Peddler’s Village (slightly) less commercial equivalent of a Chuck E. Cheese. Since it was a Monday afternoon, it was D-E-A-D. My mom took the girls on the carousel and the older man who runs the thing let them stay on waaay longer than normal. I believe out of sheer boredom. It was great fun the first 5-10 minutes, but after that all three of them looked a bit queezy. My husband & I were both very glad to be watching from a bench. Afterward, we hit the outlets. My mommy bought the girls a HUGE bag full of stuff from the Children’s Place, they must have gotten like 5 outfits each. Everything was BEYOND CHEAP, like 99 cents, $2, $3. CRAZY. I think she spent $70 total on the whole lot of it. I really like the Children’s Place very cute & colorful clothing, but some of their stuff can lean distinctly towards trampville. Hoochie mama gear on women is mildly entertaining; on a 4 year old it is criminal.

My mommy also bought me the rockingest pair of shoes. They look like granny shoes, here I am wearing them:

YES they ARE COOL. They will look better w/out my fuzzy polka dot socks, but they still look great even with them. WOW. I love these shoes. I used to have a pair like this back in the early 90s (that’s 1990s NOT 1890s, though they probably looked just like this back then too). My friend Daffy just bought a similar pair. Yay! Okay now all you crazy salivating foot and shoe fetishists can MOVE ON.

SO I had been thinking of buying a sewing machine with my remaining Borgata winnings, but when we went to JoAnn Fabrics yesterday to check out the machines all they sold were Vikings. I’d read great things about Brother machines; not only are they inexpensive but they are supposed to be FABULOUS. So I passed on the $400 unknown Viking. I am going to continue researching. or maybe I will stumble into one at a thrift shoppe for an irresistible LOW LOW price and go for it. I am lucky, you know. But now that my mommy has once again returned south, the whole idea seems less pressing. Or maybe just less fun.

My mommy left at the crack of dawn this morn, leaving behind the faint scent of her perfume and the familiar dull ache which has returned once more to my heart. I know that there are people out there who have awful mommies. and I feel so badly for them. BUT I do not exaggerate when I say that my mommy is simply THE BEST MOMMY IN THE HISTORY OF THE WHOLE ENTIRE WORLD. Unfortunately for us, she is also a successful executive who now lives 800 miles away in ATLANTA. SO unlike yours truly, she can’t just hang out in West Philly for all eternity not brushing her teeth. Don’t get me wrong, I am beyond proud of my mom. To me as well as the rest of the world she is a certifiable SUCCESS in every way. And being a success is a good thing. But being on the receiving end of success sometimes truly sucks. I miss her. I wish she didn’t have to work so hard for people who don’t really care about her. My daughters sob when she leaves. And so do I.. Which is better?

All-in-all, this weekend of fun with my mommy has reminded me of several things. Poop smells. Gambling does not pay unless YOU WIN. And I would rather be with my family and have less money, than be rich & successful apart from them. YES money can be great, especially when you are poor. But it cannot buy you happiness. A lesson that Eliot Spitzer should have learned, but. unfortunately some never do.