OK…My sister sent me this video of her playing her Labrador Retriever as a conga drum to the band “Pink Martini.” She is so funny!Watch about 1 minute & 15 seconds so you can see how elegant she is with her hand gestures and her dog doesn’t even move!!!!
I always wanted to live on the sand. And now I do.
It’s not exactly the lifestyle I envisioned. I was thinking beachfront entertaining, relaxing sunsets dipping behind Catalina, crashing waves lulling me to sleep. That’s not what I got.
I got sand. I guess when I was making my wish for the OC good life, I forgot to attach an ocean to my dream of beachfront paradise. So my wish has come true. I got the beach part—just not the water part.
Whew! Spring break around here doesn’t mean spring cleaning. Spring break means it is time to gear up for the next wave of family events. Birthdays. Check. Anniversary. Check. Mother’s Day and Father’s Day. Double check.
Only I forgot about the Tooth Fairy.
Tonight at 8:52 PST we had an incident. No emergency crew was needed though I’d rate the gore, blood, and gaping socket PG-13. My youngest was enthralled.
That is why I am writing this at 11 p.m. while I wait for the Tooth Fairy to arrive. I have it on good authority that she often blows off our town for the more lucrative gold-filled baby teeth in the richer city next door.
There’s something about hot, sweaty, muggy weather that puts me in the mood for love. That’s because I got married on the hottest, most humid day ever experienced in Orange County.
My wedding day in July 1988 broke triple digits. Massive thunderclouds crowded over Saddleback Mountain saddling the area like a fat, warm wet towel. Because it was the 80s, I was wearing about fifty pounds of white satin and beads, sequins and lace. And that was just the mutton chop sleeves.
Home Sweet Home. Not.
I’ve been holed up here for three days straight with a sick kid. I’m trying to see the bright side, but I’ve only come up with one so far. She is not vomiting.
I hate vomit. I hate fake vomit too. I hate kid vomit the most. A big reason I hate kid vomit is because kids never have a clue they are about to ralph all over you. There is no early warning system, no tell-tale signs, just a fleeting bug-eyed look of astonishment before your shoes are covered in muck. What I really need is a Hazmat suit.
The problem with kids is when they are sick, they want to attach to you like leeches. The child who can barely stop for a quick hug is now glued to your side with a 103 degree fever. So I have learned to think in terms of collateral damage.
Elementary school is designed to prepare students for middle school. Middle school is designed to prepare students for high school. High school is…ok, you get the picture.
But after Back-to-School night at the middle school, I am sure only of one thing. Middle school prepares kids for a lifetime of flying Coach. Who knows? That skill could be handier than a college degree.
It is January. I know that because there is postage due on my credit card statement. The envelope weighs so much, the postman may have to go out on disability. There are so many pages of charges, the bank wanted to print a sequel. The Sears catalog is thinner. And it’s all because of Christmas.
I swear I didn’t overspend. There were no “big” gifts around here, but there must have been a lot of little ones if you believe CapitolOne over me. Frankly, it’s all still a haze. I can’t remember any of it. I had to ask my oldest kid what we gave her.
Tell me the truth. How are you doing on the Resolution? You know which one I mean. I make it every year when I look in the mirror on New Year’s morning. My face says I partied like it was 1999 when the reality was I fell asleep at nine p.m. Unfortunately, the rest of me matches my face.
I married a geek before geeks were cool. Now suddenly they are hot stuff. I don’t know when exactly the tide turned. Was it the underdog appeal of Napoleon Dynamite, achieving the impossible in The 40 Year Old Virgin, or the childlike appeal of Will Farrell?
The tide has turned into a tidal wave. Geek is hot. And I am married to one. Woo-hoo!
If you are like me, you are thinking the time is ripe to embrace your inner geekness. And yes, girls can be geeks too. Don’t believe me? I have two words for you: Ugly Betty.
It comes every year, as constant as death and taxes. And for me, just as dreaded. I’m not talking about 1040s. I’m talking the Presidential Physical Fitness Challenge.
The program has lasted far longer than any president, which in my opinion is too bad. I have fond memories of failing it repeatedly as a kid. Now my children are taking the challenge and we shall see if I have passed on the Fitness Challenge Flunk Out gene.
I have one out of three kids who takes this process very seriously. I think she’s been brainwashed by Arnold Schwarzenegger. It is her nine-year-old intention to gather us into a flock of believers. In exercise, that is.