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Fairytales for a Practical Princess - 2008-11-30
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11:27 p.m. - 2004-07-27
I’m fine. No, really! I just had stuff to do. Saturday Went to the Dairy’s wedding. Though I’ve always referred to her as ‘Dairybride’, on Saturday (after 5 years, 2 kids, and bullying Dairyman into building her a new house) she officially became ‘Dairybride’. It was a nice wedding. I’m tempted to mock a little, the wedding had a western theme and fringe just ain’t my style, but it was THEIR wedding. Why shouldn’t they have the wedding that makes them happy? A Swiss ex-patriot, Dairybride is frank about her love for the American West and all things cowboy. It’s comforting to know there’s at least ONE European who doesn’t think everything about America sucks. So the bride wore a scrumptious lace dress with fringe and white patent leather cowboy boots. She skipped the Stetson in favor of a traditional veil. (Whew!) She also wore one of the happiest smiles I’ve seen on a bride. Made me feel good. Mazel tov, buckaroos. Reminds me of my in-law’s wedding picture. It’s a shot of them coming back down the aisle right after “You may kiss the bride”. My 18 year old future MIL is wearing the biggest shit eating grin you’ve ever seen. I don’t blame her. At 21 Mike’s dad was movie star handsome and rock god sexy. I mean to die for. And he was hers…forever! Is that weird? To talk about my father-in-law in such a way? I don’t mean it to be. You can acknowledge someone’s beauty and appeal without being a letch, I think. Besides, it’s a darn good thing the man is that good looking, Mike didn’t fall far from the Daddy tree when it comes to husbanding. So I totally get my MIL’s endless tug-of-war. On one hand he drives ber batshit. On the other, she still loves him like a dippy teenager and spoils him rotten because he’s just too cute. ‘Might as well face it, you’re addicted to love.’- Robert Palmer Sunday Alex left at noon. He had a bunch of errands to run before work. Mike was gone long and longer. I knew this ahead of time so paced myself with Wolf. It was The Mom and Wolf Show for the next 8.5 hours. I wasn’t feeling all that spiff and didn’t want to be a total crab by mid-afternoon. I have a limited amount of Good Mommy, especially on sick days. Bad haircuts aside, Wolf’s behavior has improved enough that I don’t need to have him in direct line of sight at all times. We’re working on finding a good balance between his playing on his own and us doing stuff together. I try to go to him before he gets fractious or comes looking for me. I don’t want to reward him for bad behavior. He’s used to having me around all the time and I was the one with the cool ideas for things to do that didn’t involve huge messes or bodily harm. On his own he starts out perky enough, but deviltry is born of boredom and my boy isn’t patient with his own company. He wants a constant playmate. No can do. Not good for him and I’d go bonkers. Both my kids got a lousy deal in that they are basically only children. Siblings near to age doesn’t always guarantee companionship, but it’s a sure bet only children spend a goodly bit of time on their own. Wolf needs to learn to be okay by himself. It’s a reality in his life. But one he might be grateful for if he knew the searing embarrassment of having your little sister parade around in front of your date wearing one of your bras that she’d stuffed with throw pillows from the couch. ‘I need this like a knife in the back.’- Twisted Sister Monday We went to the county fair. YAY! The guys went at 1:00 to get the most out of the unlimited ride hand stamps which are good until 6:00. Mike came and got me around 5:00. It had clouded up and cooled off nicely. I lasted longer because the weather didn’t wear me out and we stayed until almost 9:00. I had a funnel cake for dinner. Got powdered sugar everywhere. Mike was wiping off my forehead and cracked me up by telling me I looked like I’d been in a terrible mime accident. Alex and Wolf played a water shooting game. Their competition was a 3 year old. Of course Alex won. He looked a bit too smug over his victory. I couldn’t resist busting on him. “Whoo hoo Alex! You totally creamed that toddler!” He belted me with the humongus stuffed Nemo he won. I was a winner too. Although I was playing against grown-ups. I won two games playing my beloved tossed ball bingo. I picked a thermal carafe and a wee domed anniversary clock. The clock is on the shelf next to my right elbow and tomorrow morning I’m going to have hot tea refills without getting up from my chair. We bought some funny t-shirts. One of Alex’s has a picture of Al Capone in his white hat holding a machine gun. The text reads: ‘Capone. Original Gangster.’ I don’t usually wear printed t-shirts, but I couldn’t resist this one, it is so where I’m at these days. Mine says: ‘I know I came into this room for a reason.’ Perfect, right? I could almost see going blank when we lived in the Big House. 27 rooms, 4 floors, 2 staircases. By the time you trekked to wherever it was you were going you were too pooped to remember why. This does not fly here at the Hobbit House. For Pete’s sake there’s only 6 rooms! Why do I go all to pieces during the measly 20 seconds it takes me to cross my entire downstairs? I leave my desk to go to the dining room to get the dictionary and I swear by the time I’ve closed my office door and opened the kitchen door my mind has been wiped clean. I go into the kitchen and stand there praying like mad that something will look familiar and I’ll know why I made this little jaunt. ‘Don’t you forget about me’- Simple Minds Today I went back to the Lyme doc. Of the three tests on my spinal fluid one was negative, one was positive and one the lab didn’t bother to do. Then they trashed my sample. So. White count was off the chart and there were other squirmies so he’s leaning toward running the IV anyhow. As this would involve daily trips to the hospital for 4 weeks and run more than Alex’s tuition for a year, we decided to do another month on the oral antibiotics. I think it’s helped and another month won’t make much nevermind if I do the IV. I’ll need to get my house in order and Wolf back in school full time before I do this. And I’ll need to scrape up some big dough. We were lucky for a while, got through the leanest years without the burden of health insurance for the self-employed. Now the cost per use is running about even with the premiums. We’re just going to have to strap it a bit tighter and get the damn insurance already. However this looming financial burden did not stop me from buying $86 worth of bras tonight. My bra situation was desperate. I had one bra left. ONE. I slop around bra-less or wear a sports bra at home, but I had one bra to wear in public. It’s in terrible shape and doesn’t fit anymore anyhow. After the movie we went down to Lane Bryant’s (whose threshold I swore I’d never cross again, ha ha on me) and I dug out some possibilities. I wasn’t hopeful. The rest of me has shrunk considerably and the girls are stubbornly holding onto whatever little is left at the bottom of those stretched-out windsocks masquerading as my boobs these days. I picked out the roomiest looking bras they had in a 40 DDD (the largest cup they carry) and went into the dressing room. Huzzah! There is rejoicing in Hooterville! I was able to stuff them in there! There will be leakage. I know I’m going to get cleavage muffins. I’ll be adjusting my bra as often as a sweaty rightfielder shifts his jock. But to have new bras is worth it. There’s some noticable uplift too. Quite noticable. Shades of the Barbie I used to be. Cool beans. Good night, ~LA ‘Looking For A Kiss’- New York Dolls
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