12-23-06

Last night I received a phone call from my long distance girlfriend (I can hear my husband now and my reply… “You wish”). She called to fill me in on all the local gossip. It involved a suicide, a possible affair, a divorce, and a musical. I know you (now there are two of you) want to know the ins and outs, all the details but I have to protect the source (some sort of oath I took in line at the Barnes and Noble or somewhere). Some of you may think I just stole these ideas from the movies Flashdance or Fame, and although I do adore those Oscar worthy pictures, I did not steal any plot lines. I will share that she revealed that a certain hostess at a gathering last night, changed out of her party wear and changed into her p.j.’s... mid party. Now if they were silk or flannel I cannot say but knowing her and the way she likes to dab a little Budweiser behind each ear she was probably in full party mode. With that alone I’m sure she was turning a few a men’s heads, but add her rendition of “Santa Baby” on the kitchen table… I’m sure they were eating out of her stocking. This little firecracker has been known to have a few libations and then let it all hang out (and after a few kids I’m sure it does…wink wink). Thank you Kare for the juicy tidbits… I mean Stacy… or Paula…

Also quick update on Washer Watch 2006, my husband has again “fixed” it. I’ve done two loads so far… and knock on wood; it seems to be going good. Also, I have started a little ritual where I tell “her” (has to be a woman, right?... She works so hard!) I love her when I leave. What the heck it can’t hurt right?

12-19-06

As I drive my laundry over to my sister’s house again, I now believe I have really angered the appliance “god” (my washer has broken again). In my mind I have come to realize that they (the “god” and his panel of dudes) are slowly trying to break me. On the panel are Henry, Tommy, and Paul. The appliance “god” is named Jimmy Conway (I’m sure I’ve heard those names before, I’ll just chalk it up to a vivid imagination). Now that I have that part worked out in my mind I just have to figure out what I’ve done. My first thought is that my husband has done something (they always do something wrong) but then I believe they would attack his blackberry, laptop, various cell phones, the toilet, and I could just be left out of this mess. But they aren’t so it’s back to me, hitting me where it hurts over and over. There must be some sort of patron saint of household necessities to protect me, I could hang it over my front door, bury it in the backyard, spread it on my morning toast… I’ll do whatever! Satan has entered my domain and is fiddling with my machinery … that sounds a little off... an unscrupulous act has brought woe in my abode… no odd still…Maybe if I just make a little Italian gravy and sacrifice my George Foreman grill?

12-12-06

I catch my daughter bugging the snot out of my youngest. She is repeatedly poking him. He in return decides “I’ll poke her”, but now she’s annoyed. Although she has been doing this to him for who knows how long, his 30 second retaliation has put her into scream mode (at 7 about everything puts her in drama city). Of course being the adult, parent, the role model, (who am I kidding… the oldest in the room) I try to reason with her explaining that he is just repeating her behavior (god I’m such an untrained talent it scares me). She then sets me straight, “he is invading my personal girl space”, and I pause, personal girl space? Before I can reply she then explains “and babies don’t have personal space so it’s ok!” I am curious so I ask… where did you learn that? “I made it up; I don’t even know what personal means!” and storms off. If this is a prequel to the teen years…I am definitely not wise (or patient) enough to keep up.

12-08-06

I have had repairmen in and out of this house over the past weeks (read previous posts). Right now I have two workmen in the basement replacing the furnace. Can we all say booko bucks, big cash, mucho dinero, lots of Benjamin’s, ho ho oh no… Also today as this big project is taking place my husband finds out that his company may be bought, and broken up into teeny tiny pieces (similar to the Titanic… lets hope he finds an iceberg … or even a ice cube?).What bothers me the absolute most of all is that has gone on with our “bad luck” is that a couple of days ago my husband emptied out the dishwasher, now I know some of you may be like “wow can’t get my man to do that”, I know I’m lucky(ha-ha). Any way the problem was that the dishwasher contents had yet to be cleaned. When I happened to mention this little detail he was like, “Oh well.” Needless to say I’ve had the icky grossies for the last few days, rewashing everything but it doesn’t matter because all I can think of is, what did I use, what did I touch, ugh, ugh, ugh. I think that I need to up my meds…

12-04-06

Just an update for all my peeps (I think the three of us are bonding). Last week we experienced some wonderfully warm weather, broke out the stylish capri’s. Then we were practically snowed in on Friday, but no worries the kids loved it (snow day!). The only hitch was that our elementary school had planned this vendor and craft extravaganza at the school on Friday, so I was on the horn all day calling parents to tell them its still on. This must have melted some of my brain cells (or maybe something else in my teen years… just joking Dad), because at the school that night my sister- in- law and my sister were on raffle table duty. Every time my sister said hello, hi, hola, or whatever to someone, I said hey how do you know them? Each time she reminded me that she was “greeting” people, yet for some reason I couldn’t grasp that and continued to ask her where do you know them from? Ok, people say my sister and I share a brain (and usually I have possession of it, true statement take a poll people) but I obviously had given it to her to use that night. My only concern is that I get it back because she later called me reeling off numbers about something she was adding (not a strong point for her either) and I ended up with a migraine.