something's in the water.

56% of women in this country wear size 14 and up. 56 percent.

but apparently the retailers out there don't see it that way.

Spring is here. and with it comes some fevah. while i don't look for more cowbell with that fever, i do look for some wardrobe freshening.

(and me saying wardrobe freshening is kinda funny...if you know me or have seen what i wear, there ain't no wardrobe going on)

my shopping usually occurs at one of two places: Target (98%) and Walmart (1%) and other (1%)...the 'other' being more expensive and as such are usually confined to *ahem* foundation garments and the occasionally super-cute top. Target is my go-to for cute fat gurl clothes.

lately - not so much.

when i've gone to Target & WallyWorld, i've noticed something...the usual size of the plus size selection has apparently gone on a diet.

and has lot a LOT of weight.

while the maternity size...right next to the plus size has, well...expanded. kinda like Octomom.

i.don't.get.it.

hello? marketeers of said store? did you not get that 56% of the women in America wear a size 14 and up? why would you reduce the size of your plus size section? while i get that it costs somewhat more to make these clothes, didja think that we would think 'oh crap, not so many fat gurl clothes to choose from? i'd better go on a diet!'

(shhh. lemme let you in on a tiny secret: when given a choice between a hot fudge brownie sundae {no nuts, please}and a diet? guess what i'm gonna choose)

so...just in case any of the marketing geniuses from Target are reading...lemme lay it out on the table for you: plus size good. expansion of plus size section better.

while being in the 56 percentile may not be best for me personally, it sure doesn't mean i wanna wear mu-mus and caftans.

now if you'll excuse me, there's some hot fudge calling my name.

up the river: a tale of a pacemaker.

my stepfather had a pacemaker installed today.

oh and butt implants.





OK, not really, but dammit, he's 82. he needs a butt.

the surgery went very well. i was amazed at how much color he had when i went to to see him afterwards. looked great. sounded good.

wanted to get out of bed to pee. that's how i know we're family.

AND he got lasagna, salad, broccoli, a lemon bar AND coffee for dinner. (and i had Thai food. i got the better end of the deal!)

so during our stint at Memorial Hospital, my mom took my darling husband in to visit, leaving me to watch the purses and what not.

that's when the fire alarm went off.
and the magnetized door to the waiting room shut automatically.
oh crap.

i had this image of me trying to get out the building, carrying two purses, one tote (filled with a sammich, water, 2 romance novels and pepto. that was my mom's) and one backpack (filled with a police scanner, manual and book. that was my husband's)while trying to let them both know that i was still alive, unsmoked and unsinged.

but, since i smelled no smoke and no one was running around trying to avoid being singed and smoked, i decided i was OK.

it was annoying, though, listening to the chiming of the alarm. at least it was somewhat pleasant.

it was about to get worse.

my parents, who are notorious for not telling things...important things, decides to call my step-niece, her step granddaughter. and tell her what's going on.

because the niece knows nothing of the surgery.

and so, in the course of the conversation, when my mom mentions that i'm there with her, the niece declares that i will die for not telling her.

my mom fails to mention that i was sworn to secrecy by both of them to not tell the granddaughter or my stepfather's son.

sold up the river. by my own mother. the one person in the world i thought would stand by me through thick and thin.

just apparently not when it comes to saving her own butt.

remind me, if my mom ever gets a pacemaker, no butt implants for her.

today is the first day of the rest of your life.

how trite.
how dramatic.
how me.

today was the first day i started taking daily meds.

yes, Gentle Reader, (and it was actually yesterday) i became one of the millions of Americans that has diabetes AND high cholesterol.

and neither one is really all that bad. it's just a change in lifestyle. an opportunity to make smarter decisions regarding my life and my eating habits. a chance to....

oh, who am i kidding? THIS SUCKS, THIS SUCKS, THIS SUCKS!!!!!

now granted, the cards was stacked against me; both my mother and grandmother are diabetic. my husband is, although the doctor assured me you can't get diabetes by injection.

sorry - too much info? moving on.

now while i know the chances were good that i'd get it, i tried to keep the attitude that it didn't necessarily guarantee that i would get it. but dang, it still slapped me across the face.

and dang it further, it's not like my AC1 (the measure of sugar in your blood) was outrageous... it should be at 6 or below and i'm at 7.3.

come on. stupid head.

but - it's OK. i know this doctor is young and aggressive...and really, REALLY cute. he's also Brendan's doctor, and what i've always liked about him is that he doesn't let Brendan get away with nothing.

but dammit, that means i don't get away with anything, either.

and did i mention he's really, really cute?! i already decided that any 'girlie' exams will be performed by the office's PA. not him. nope. ain't no way he's seeing my hoo-hoo.

that would involve extensive sprucing and heck, if i'm not a doing it for the Husband, it certainly wouldn't be good to do it for my doctor.

although it might be a good opportunity to try & carve that Chargers bolt i always wanted.

what - too much?

oh mercy. she's at it again.

see the badge on the right there? yeah, that one, with the camera and the black & gold?

yep. i'm at it again.

it's another photo contest...but one that i don't have a photo in. let me explain.

what's your dream assignment is all about you. what's your dream? if you could go anywhere in the world and photograph anything, what would it be?

mine is kinda mushy. but it's an idea i've been mulling around for a year or so. i would love to travel and find my friends, both on the 'net and family we have around the world and find out why they love who they love. how did they meet? what made them fall in love with the other? and more importantly, why do they stay together?

so it's pretty easy. if you want to vote for me, go to the badge on the right, click pic it, and log in. and yes, you'll have to create an account here, and if you decide to enter your own idea, for heaven's sake, tell me so i can vote for you, too.

after you get registered, you can log in, then come back here to pic me...again on the badge.

a little complicated, i know. but remember that dreams are work.

keep dreaming.

it's all becoming clear to me.

looking back, it's no wonder i am the way i am.
crazy that is.

i've told tales before of life with Crazy Auntie Kay. how she would tell me that if i would just press against my two front teeth, they would straighten out nicely and i would have no need for braces. my teeth would look just like hers.

and i did that, faithfully...for a few months. then i found out something.

Auntie Kay wore dentures. of course her teeth were perfect.

it's crap like that that stays with you for a long, long time.

take, for example, Exhibit A.

this morning, i was driving to work, when i passed a box on the side of the road. nothing unusual in that, except that immediately i heard Auntie Kay.

"when you start driving," (said when i was a teenager, before my license) "and you see a box in the road, don't you EVER drive over it."

ok, i'll bite. why?

"because people will put their unwanted babies in the box and leave it in the road so someone will drive over it and kill their baby."

OMG. you SO did not just say that.
wait...rerun tape...oh yeah, you DID just say that.

and she really did believe that. just as she believed that my mom could not willingly have sex as an unmarried woman. she HAD to have been raped.

oh yeah. she did. to the day she died, she was convinced my mom had been forced upon.

and so, some 30 years later, i see a box in the road and freak out...before i remember that the odds of that happening are as good as us winning the lotto.

the lotto, however, while it would still freak me out, would be FAR more FUN than...well, you know.

tune in next week for the newest episode of "It's Not My Parents That Screwed Me Up, It Was the Other Members of My Family."

presented without commercial interruption!

do quirk your pinky as you read, won't you?

today, i went to a tea-slash-fashion show with my madre. i'll give you all a minute to get the laughter out before we continue.











you good?
OK then, moving on.

it was one of those mother-daughter-let's-bond-because-since-you-got-married-you-never-do-anything-with-me-anymore(insert heavy sigh here) moments. and i figure not only does my mom have a touch of Jewish Mother in her, i have enough Catholic Guilt to fall for it.

the funny thing is, we are Baptist. go fig.

so, off to the tea. it was sponsored by the church that my mom's quilting group rents space from for their monthly meetings. and of course there was more blue hair in that room that at the Blue Man Group show in Vegas.

stretching, i know. but i came up with that today and had to spring it on you, Gentle Reader.

the tea was served by several men, all wearing food service gloves and looking a little uncomfortable being surrounded by that much estrogen and estrogen replacement. and it was tea, with an assortment of bags (tea bags, not the attendees. sheesh!)and foofy little cucumber and cream cheese sammiches.

and, at the table across from ours, were two little girls...with Happy Meals.

'hey, kid, i know you're not supposed to talk to strangers, but i'll give you $20 if you give me your chicken mcnuggets. what? no, you can keep the toy.'

money well spent, in my opinion. except that i didn't have $20, or $5 or even a bloody dollar bill, because i didn't go to the ATM in my hurry to get to the church and not be late.

have you ever noticed how freaking wonderful Mickey D's french fries smell? manna from heaven, my friends...especially when all you have are foofy cream cheese sammiches.

anywhooo...i'm sure i made quite the impression with my mom's friends, trying to be charming, but ended up being my usual somewhat sarcastic self...starting with the one who, after looking me up and down said, before my mom could make the introductions, 'well! and who is this little miss?!'

listen, honey - there hasn't been anything little on me since 1968. let's not be too patronizing, shall we? i happen to know you've got kids and underwear older than me.

46 and still a smart ass. yep - i've still got it.

after the tea was a fashion show. and yes, it was every bit like you imagine. very flowy, soft fabrics, lots of sequins and sparkles and hats...oh kids, every.bloody.outfit had a hat accessorized with it. all of which looked like they would be perfect for a wedding...or Ascot. not, though, for a 'night out on the town,' as the owner of the dress store putting on the show said.

not unless that night out on the town included a drag show. then again, i used to know a drag queen and i'm not even sure he would wear that.

my favorite, which was painful to watch, BTW, was a teenage girl, wearing clothes that very few self-respecting teenage girls would wear...unless they were looking for ridicule and mockery at the hands of their peers. she looks uncomfortable. i felt for her, poor baby.

but when they came out with some Red Hat Society outfits, let me tell you, my mother about lost it.
there was a purse. red in color, sequined (DOY.) with gold accents and a bird shaped clasp.

i thought she was going to need oxygen. turns out she just needed that purse.

after the show, many of the ladies headed up to the area where the shop owner had her wares. bedazzled earrings with HUGE fake stones were being snapped up, along with the garden party hat the owner had accessorized with, not a scarf, but a belt.

my mother, cane in hand, was ready to battle her way to the purse. she stopped short when she saw it.
'it's teal.' she said.

what?

'teal. it has teal in it. i don't want teal. i don't like that one, i liked the one she carried,' she said, frowning.

'well,' i said, 'let's either find the model or the owner and get it.'

'oh, i don't want to be a bother...'
'i want to be a bother,' i said. 'i'll get that dang purse if it's the last thing i do'i thought and, as i was starting to make my way through the hungry throng of blue hair shoppers, here came the model, who apparently knows my mom.

'Carolyn - did you really want this?' she asked, holding out the Holy Grail of Red Hat Purses.
my mom almost purred as she took it from the lady. and happiness was once again restored at the mother/daughter tea...especially when my mom slapped some cash down and made that purse her bitch...i mean her own.

driving home, and giggling to myself over all the blue in the room, i realized a few things.
first - that in spite of the strange history my mom & i started out with, (thinking my mom was my cousin and all) that it's amazing we have a relationship as good and as strong as it is.

second, how lucky i am that i do have her. i have friends that don't have a great one with their moms...and some that don't have theirs any longer...and would give an eyetooth..or a Happy Meal...for what i have with mine.

third, how sad it makes me that she is getting older and feeble. she never was a scamperer, but it was cool going to Disneyland or Knott's as a kid and having someone to snuggle with on the big scary rides. now, i'm the one that the Cutest Kids in Hesperia and Reno want to snuggle with - and it makes me sad she won't have that with them, or her great-grand kids.

my mom's pretty cool.
sometimes it takes a cucumber sandwich to remind me.

when EZ-Ups attack and try to overthrow their Human Overlords.

when B & i got married, 10 years ago, we were the par-tay king & queen.

before our first anniversary, we had a beach party. later that year, we had a Christmas party...except that, we had friends coming that didn't celebrate Christmas, so we called it a Spirit of the Season party.

i love throwing parties. the cleaning up, not so much.

but for whatever reason, i really, really love throwing Christmas parties. even back in high school, my friends & i were throwing them. we called it the NewMas party. everyone brought a white elephant gift, and at midnight (or close to it) we'd celebrate the new year.

after we got married, we decided every year we'd have a beach party and a Christmas-er, Spirit of the Season par-tay.

then the Husband started working at the Pennysaver and working weird hours that involved Saturdays. parties were out.

but as soon as he got back to a normal schedule, so did our parties.

what's fun about beach parties, is, we here in the OC, surprisingly, we don't have a lot of local beaches with firepits. the closest one is Bolsa Chica.
that charges $10/car to get in.
that had a half mile long line of people yesterday morning waiting to get in when the beach opened @ 6am.

oh good googly moogly.

so yesterday, i was there at 6am. in line. Brendan got there about 7, and we started setting up camp. unloading food. setting up EZ-ups, which, in my opinion, is a completely misnamed product.

we borrowed two from my friend, and with ours, had a complete tent city, with a firepit as the centerpiece.

and, while we were setting up, these two college boys came up, rather chirpily, and asked if we were planning on staying here all day.

yep. we are.

oh. they said. because we needed a fire pit.

oh. i thought. then your butt shoulda been here at 6am. like mine was.

that was before the tornado.

about 3ish, this breeze came up. and when i call it a breeze, i'm being kind.
it was pretty strong. we giggled as a party near us, their EZ-Up tumbled like Shriner clowns.
so you know that old saying about be careful what you laugh at?

i should've remembered that.

one of our EZUps went tumbling. Brendan and i went scrambling after it. then, as we were trying to take it down, EZUp 2 proved how EZ it too can tumble. and also how quickly it can whack my Husband in the back of the neck.

four girls from the camp next to ours came running to help us with EZ killer #2. then, as we got 1 & 2 under control, the third one went for a flight.

at this point, the party, was officially over.

and, like vultures on the African grasslands, they came.

hi - you leaving? cuz we're planning a sweet-16 birthday party for our friend and we don't have a firepit.

again - your butt shoulda been here @ 6am. like i was.

but of course i gave 'em the pit. (and sold my firewood for $10/a pile. i paid $7 for it at the Ralphs. snicker.)

so you see - parties - they're a good thing.
even when EZUps attack.

did you feel that?

i hate panic.
studies show that in times of crisis or emergency, panic kills more people than the actual catastrophe.
and i work with panickers.

lucky me.

and, living in an area with more cracks than a crackhouse, well...

cracks. not buttcracks. earthcracks. them edge-em-u-cated folks calls 'em faults. i's calls 'em reason to par-tay.

no, not really.

but at 11:42 today, we had ourselves a little episode. only a 5.8 on the Richter scale.

pftttttt. call me when it reaches 6.

don't get me wrong, i do hate earthquakes, but i cannot STAND it when people panic. because in their panic, they will do something stupid that could kill them...and me, too.

so there you go. just a little shaker that was really hard, at least at my work. we lost a good section of tiles from our ceiling, and to be on the safe side, they sent us home.

and i did.
no damage, except to the cat. he was pissed.

just so you know, the whole earthquake is probably my fault. you see, i had emailed April last week about a chick i know that i've been butting heads with (i know, hard to believe i can't get along with people). i said to April that this look i got was the same as if i had farted in the Vatican.

therefore - the earthquake is my fault.

but - everyone i care about is OK, some more shaken than others, but no damage, surprisingly.
except that the news stations with their continuous coverage are losing their minds.

because nothing really was damaged. no freeways collapsed. nothing to see here, move along.
hey - what if they threw an earthquake & no one came? a TV news nightmare.

and all because i passed gas.


moving on to today's regularly scheduled post.

on the morning news today, there was a story about a man who had invested his life's savings into opening a rather trendy (read: EXPENSIVE) clothing boutique in West Hollywood.

he'd been opened maybe two weeks, and sometime last night, was broken into and robbed.

cleaned out.

every article of clothing - gone. they even took the Swiffer.

come on, guys; you took the Swiffer? what are you gonna do, sell that out of the back of your car with the clothes?

*hmmmph*

but - they left the hangers.

hangers? dudes.
it did, though, remind me of something that happen when i was a kid.

i had watched Dragnet - not sure if was a rerun or not, but Our Man Sgt. Joe Friday was called out to a clothing boutique that had been the victim of a grab and go. the criminals had run in, grabbed hangers of clothing off the shelves and run like hell.

Sgt. Friday was his usual sympathetic self. he told the owner that what she should do is to arrange the hangers with the loops going inside and outside the bar on the roundabout. that way, if she were to be robbed again, the criminals wouldn't get nearly as many of the goods.

my seven year old self thought that was a great idea. so good in fact, that i decided to do that in my own closet.

because, you know, there was a string of home invasion robberies back in the late 60s, early 70s, where the perps were stealing little kids clothing from their closets.

goes along with the vampires that lived under my bed.

needless to say, my crazy auntie Kay completely lost her mind, trying to fix my closet the way it should be, as well as trying to explain to me how i wasn't really a candidate for clothing thieves.

so there you have it. i'm not only responsible for today's earthquake, but for my great aunt's mental illness.

watch it - i might affect you the same way.

what - me weird?

have we established i'm weird?

i am, you know.

so when i saw this on Photojojo, well...

heck, i wanna go find some dangerous abandoned building and go exploring with my new ball.

then i get this vision of me being a klutz, falling and getting stuck under something, then being the lead story on the 1 o'clock news.

because idiots generally don't make the prime time news...just the politicians. *snort.*

V - Queen of the Disco.

Gentle Reader - i'd like to introduce you to someone. all hail the new me:

V.

V is hip. she is edgy. she only refers to herself in the third person.
she endeavors to be an Award Winning Photographer, but as yet has to hear from the people who could make her an Award Winning Photographer...damn them all to hades.

(and if you are from the fair, reading this...so kidding)

V don't take no guff from anyone. V doesn't have to. V is confident in her own abilities and can make you as confident in yourself as she is in you. V has that kind of power.

V never shirks from any challenge. she succeeds, or if she doesn't then she will try again until she does. and even after that if she fails, well, it had to have been someone else's fault, because V did all she could.

V is usually full of it. obviously.

on our way down to San Clemente Saturday, for the Drunken Cartwheel Competition, i created V, mostly to amuse Brendan...which it did.

V likes to make others laugh.

V is also a way to calm my freaked out butt down.
i swear, i'm making myself bi-polar, between worrying about whether or not i'm getting laid off and whether or not the fair is going to call.

gahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

but why, you may ask, is V the Queen of the Disco? easy.
V would never buy these, but Valerie did.
the Donny & Marie show AND the Hardy Boys Mysteries. both on dvd.
Sunday night, i relived my high school era. only the good parts, not the holy-crap-i-am-gonna-fail-math-and-WHY-doesn't-David-Hunter-know-i'm-alive? parts.

so while V, all hip & edgy, would never be caught dead with those dvds in her collection (V prefers documentaries on dead artists), Valerie the Geek will be caught with em.

and - loving it.





in other news....
MAD props to Kristie - it is her birthday after all. happy birthday girl, and i hope you love the present your girl made you...believe me when i say there's blood sweat and tears in that thing.

and Linda? you'll be OK. prayers for you and here's hoping for a fast, pain-free recovery. try to relax, heal and make the kids take care of you! sheesh!

i have no idea what i was thinking.

but right now, my wattle is shaking in its boots. assuming, of course, it has boots.

if you Twitter, you already know. if you don't, well...i entered a contest.

a photography contest.

at the Orange County Fair this year.

good googly moogley.

i sent in my ladybug photo. if they want it for the judging, they will let me know by June 14th.

what the hell was i thinking?!?

great. now i'm gonna stress myself out checking the mail every.dang.day till June 14th. and the last time i waited for something in June was when i graduated high school.

believe me, i was counting the seconds. so was my Mother.

not nearly as stressful as waiting to see if i make a contest. and if my $5 entry fee was spent in vain.

Beauty-full-of-it.

People magazine came out this week with it's 100 Most Beautiful issue. It has the usual suspects in it: George Clooney. Angelina Jolie. Patrick Dempsey. Halle Berry.

Missing? Me.

I was supposed to be in a section, aptly named 'Hot Blogger Babes and Dudes.' It was right between the pieces on Kate Hudson and Taylor Swift. For whatever reason, the section didn't make the cut this year. Something about going green, concerns about the environment, conserving paper, blah, blah, blah.

Whatever.

So - reprinted with absolutely no permission, here it is. My People interview.

People - So thanks again for taking the time to sit with us.

Me - Oh, no problem. My pleasure!

P - Now, for starters, how old are you again?

M - (playfully swats at reporter and laughs) Come on. Didn't your momma teach you that it's not polite to ask someone their name?

P - (also laughing) Yeah, you're right.

(pause)

P - So how old are you?

M - (sighing) 45. 46 at the end of the month.

P - (surprised) Really? That's amazing...you don't look older than my mom.

M - That...that's great. How old is your mom?

P - 45.

M - (befuddled) Oh....um....O.K.

P - (pleased with himself, feeling like he's made a connection with his subject) So! Moving on - what's the one beauty item you'd have to have on a desert island.

M - (thinking) Ummmm.....let's see...I'd have to say Burt's Bees lip balm. I hate it when my lips feel dry and puffy.

P - Yeah. I like that stuff, too. OK, next - you're running late in the morning, what's the one beauty thing...

M - ...and mascara. I LOVE mascara...Cover Girl's Lash Blast is my favorite right now. Oh! And Clinique's mineral makeup...maybe some blush, 'cuz I'm sooooo whiiiiite. And of course there's some Urban Decay eyeshadow and Benefit's Bad Gal eyeliner...

P - OK, ummm...that's more than one item. It kinda negates the idea of the 'one item/desert island' question.

M - Well, I am 45. Remember?

P - (exasperated) Well then. Moving on...do you have a beauty secret?

M - Secret? What secret? I just told you. You think I can just get up in the morning and look like this?

P - Whatever. Look, you got a beauty secret or not?

M - Baby wipes.

P - Excuse me?

M - Baby wipes. I wash my face with baby wipes for sensitive skin. They're great.

P - (shaking head) OK. Moving on again...what was your worst beauty moment?

M - The 80's.

P - (pleased with the answer) That's great...when?

M - The whole decade. I mean, come on: pink eyeshadow with shocking blue eyeliner and to top it off: bright yellow highlighter? Oy.


Things kinda went downhill after that. The reporter left our abode muttering something about I was crazy, he should've taken the job at the New Yorker, and that he was late to interview Tammy Faye.

It took a couple of hours before I realized she had died last year.

Oh well. There's always next year.

Stay tuned. Next week I'm writing about the time I was on The Mike Douglas Show.

i have been neglecting myself.

yep.

it's for 'down there.'

it comes in auburn, blond, black, brown, tangerine and pink.

why, i could trim a heart and dye it pink.

that oughta cause a ruckus with the paramedics.

suddenly - it all makes sense.

saw this today.

Bulging belly now could mean dementia later.
People with a bulging waistline in mid-life could face a higher risk of dementia and Alzheimer's in the senior years, a new study shows.
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/23800703/from/ET/

thank heavens. i was blaming it on chocolate chip cookies and beer, but apparently my mental illness is to blame for me being a fat girl.

time for a Cap'n Crunch milkshake!!

well, if you must ask...

no. i have not taken five pictures this year.
not even one.

i am, however, quite familiar with all the crap that's on daytime tv.

and how dang comfy our recliner is.

and also how snuggly i can be under two quilts.

what? oh. sorry. let me back up a little.

12/31
cough. cough. cough.
no big. it's windy today. really windy. this is likely allergies. especially since my eyes are watering. i still am heading out to dinner.

1/1 - day one
did anyone get the name of that truck? the one that blindsided me? the one that was carrying a load of snot, has left me weak AND in charge of their cargo? because i need to report their company to the BBB. leaving me with all this crap is NOT good business practices. oh well. a little NyQuil tonight and i will be as fresh as a daisy tomorrow.

1/2 - day two - possession
great googly moogly. i have been possessed by a snot demon. NyQuil has no power here. i feel as if i've been mugged by an elephant. i need an exorcism on my sinuses. i need to complete my Last Will and Testament. then i realize i don't have any real possessions to leave. great.

1/3 - day three - the coronation of Queen Snot
i am dying. i hurt. i cough and pee a little. niiice. 45 freaking years old and i'm peeing my pants. not to mention a (cough cough pee) friend sends me a photo of her bbq brisket dinner that she's ready to enjoy. i thought we were friends. i was wrong. i vow that if i survive i will hunt her down. and make her watch me eat a bbq brisket. with grits. and fresh biscuits with apple butter. and yes, bread pudding for dessert.

1/4 - day four - i will survive.
wow.
i feel...almost human.
i guess i will survive this.
i've even decided to get nasal spray..which i hate using. but i'm really tired of not breathing.
and i really hate that my last week of vacation being sick.

can i get a do-over for this week?

looking for answers to life's most difficult questions.

one in a continuing series.

join me as together, we search for the questions to life's hardest questions.

today's stumper:

why is it members of your family ask you to get something from the store the day after you've done a buttload of shopping?

an open letter to the Gamemaster.

dear Dean -
Aunt Balerie here. i just thought i'd write you something, because your momma tells me you are really getting into games lately.

really.into.games.

well, be prepared. you're going down, boy.

so it's Yahtzee you dig?! sir, i am the Queen of Yahtzeeville.
Monopoly? i make Donald Trump look like a second grader.

wait...aren't you in second grade? oh well. never mind.

just wait. there is nothing i love more than a good game. be it Yahtzee (or however you spell it), Clue, Trouble, Uno or Milles Borne. except for War. i don't know how to play that, but who cares?

you are SO going down.

just wanted to warn you. be prepared for a whooopin'.

(and never mind when Momma says that i'm all talk, and i talk big, blah, blah, blah. i don't talk THAT much)

oh, and be prepared for a lot of hugs and smoochy kisses. 'cuz that's how i roll.

i love you. i can't wait to see you, your sister, Momma, Daddy, cousin Marlen and the dawgs next week.

but you're still going down.
xoxoxoxo Aunt Balerie


p.s. - hi, Erin!! i can't wait to see you and have you help me roll my dice for Yahtzee!

it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...

especially in the crap, er...craft room.

they're 16oz paper coffee cups, and the lids, too. regular scrapbook paper, cardstock to make the sleeve, some ribbon and on the top (even though you can't see 'em) matching paper filling the indent on the lid and a holiday brad...just to be festive.

my fave, i gotta say, is the top one. i know, it's not Christmas in the 'traditional' sense (Husband does NOT like that one. all more reason for me to like it - bwa!), but it just seems fun to me. Love, Elsie paper & some cutsie sparklie ribbon.

these are going to the supervisors @ work for Christmas (so if you're a supervisor, just forget you saw these, 'K? kidding. no one of the management team reads this. which is good, cuz, you all STINK!!! so kidding.), with a Starbucks giftcard and something else...not sure what yet, but i've got till the end of the month and next month to think about it.

if you want a template to cut for your own cups, let me know.

in other news...

guess who's coming to Thanksgiving dinner?! cousin Marlen is flying out next Sunday to my sister-in-law's for two weeks. AND my brother in law is coming over from Sacramento with his two boys.

it's a mini family reunion. now if Marlen could only get her brother to come out sometime with her...

oh, the trouble we could all get into. moreso.

and tonight, we watched 'How the Grinch Stole Christmas.' the original, not the movie, thank heavens. talk about Instant Holiday Spirit. AND our satellite has a new feature on the info button...you can see when it was originally aired.

this aired 12/22/1966.

1966?! good grief. i suddenly feel much, much older. add to that that Friday was my 20th anniversary at my company, well...

who am i kidding. i am old.

i just can't decide which makes me feel older - 1966 or 1987.

never mind. i'm just taking my walker back down to the home.

how old am i again?

'cuz right now i'm back to my 15 year old, Shaun Cassidy/Donny Osmond loving, earth-shoe & Dittos wearing, Tiger Beat reading self.

man. i am not right.

oh no you didn'!

beneath this hard shell of an exterior, is a creamy center of marshmallow.

really.

however - that marshmallow can get really crusty sometimes.

like tonight.

still having some issues with my stiffy sore neck, so, on our way home from Target, we stopped at a drug store so i could get some IcyHot.

and, paid for it with my ATM, like always. however, the screen wasn't reading my pen strokes correctly. everytime i said i didn't want $40 back, it tried to give me $40.

i couldn't clear it. i couldn't go on.

in the meantime - as we pulled in the parking lot, we watched a couple get out of a Porsche, and she was tall and long legged. the Husband was impressed.

so back to the in-store fun.

while the clerk and i were fighting the ATM screen (right before the clerk voided the sale to start over), the long-legged chick behind me said "what - can't you see it?"

my head turned around like Linda Blair in "The Exorcist."

"no," i said politely but snottily, ''i can see it just fine. it's not responding the way i need it to, thank you very much."

"shaw. she said. (you know, that mouth noise most teenagers make when they're irritated with us old folks.) i didn't mean it that way."

"well, no matter how you meant it, " Snot Queen Valerie said, "just know i can see it just fine."

she didn't say another word, until i walked off. then i heard her say to her boyfriend (or whatever he was), "that was rude."

i didn't even turn around as i walked off. "don't worry, honey, you can teach us a thing or two about rude."

i SO could've hip-checked her into next week... and the worst part is that when we watched them walk in, we both figured they were probably in their early 20s. no way, dude. when i looked at her, that chick was as old as me. and she didn't look good.

kinda like a PSA for skin damage caused by tanning.

so perhaps, perhaps i overreacted. perhaps i'm still a little sensitive about trifocals.

but chickie needs to learn a thing or two about keeping smart-ass comments to herself.

and i need to be less nasty and more marshmallowy.

but the Linda Blair thing was cool.