wretched

sometimes i am really wretched. sometimes i am really really nice. i wonder some days if people think the really nice days are just a show, and the really mean days are the only me. those are the ones who have no clue. i enjoy being really nice much more than anything. it gives me a pure, positive feeling that I so enjoy. I'm no movie star, but i can make a difference in anyone's life by making an effort to be nice and helpful.

I also admit that the high of verbally slamming someone is a great appreciation in my life. But the difference is that I don't do it unless I feel the other person is being really mean and unfair. They always seem so shocked, to be counted among the heartless, the mean, the self centered. I laugh at that. They never have a clue. I have to admit that I despise people like that. I also have to admit that I thoroughly enjoy helping my friends, family and neighborhood.

I do wish people would leave their "health clubs" and country clubs and put their energy and physical efforts into the neighborhood. They might find they like the people they ignore.

what's really important

Today Newsweek magazine proclaimed that we are all socialists and will basically be France one day soon. I was horrified. Not because of what Newsweek said, but because when I woke up this morning and opened the fridge to make my Puerto Rican coffee, there was NO milk. Not a drop. How can something so devastating happen to me? WHY ME? My God, I would so rather have Tanya Harding bash my knee than not have my 60 minutes of Puerto Rican coffee savoring every morning. I had to brace myself and get the kids ready for school, knowing I was not going to get my special moring treat to myself for being a lazy mother of school children who basically does nothing but cannot function without her cafe con leche.

It took me a while to realize that my dear sweet hubby had poured milk into a thermos and discovered it was bad (he drinks 1%, I drink skim, which people out here eloquently call "non fat") and left it out on the counter to stink up the house. So, I went and got myself milk today just to make sure I can have my coffee in the morning. If it's gone, I will go insane. I cannot be expected to last 2 days without my coffee without my Girl Scout buddies around to keep me laughing so coffee seems insignificant.

Oh yeah, France. As Jane and Joanna would say, Gimme the Gun!

Yertle the Turtle

My daughter is Yertle the Turtle. This information was broken to me today, just a few minutes ago, actually. She is in a school play, Seussical the Musical, and she is a Who. Today, they told her she was also Yertle the Turtle, due to her stick-to-it-idness. She is very excited. I am trying to remember what the heck Yertle did in the book and just have this vague image of a turtle in a tree. So now I have to go find the book and read it. Although my daughter tells me the show has nothing to do with the books. Go figure. At least it's rated G.

I love her crazy ass attitude and hair. She's so wild, yet so innocent, just like I was. People don't get how you can be both, but she really is, and so was I.

Now I have to wait weeks until the darn show. Then I'll probably go to all 6 performances. Maybe I can stand in for Horton or something by the end.

Help me

I am terrified of my daughter. She is normally the sweetest most loving child on the planet, but today she mutated into a strange scary creature. Right before my eyes.

Chloe is 11, almost 12. A few weeks ago she told me that she would like to try out for the school musical, and wanted to know if that was okay with me. Of course it was! So she signed up, got a piece to read for audition, and I didn't hear of it again. So the night before the first audition, I asked her if she had practiced. She had. She recited this long piece with enthusiasm and I was very impressed. She got a callback. Then she was given a small part. (After all, she explained to John, this is her FIRST Broadway Play, she doesn't want to get in over her head.)

So, practice most of this week, and today is Saturday. No school. So she is dancing her heart out, and singing too. She told Guy she could not play with him as she had to practice. She seemed upset that she could not remember every single dance move yet. I pointed out to her that the play was not until March, and she had plenty of time to learn it all and not to worry about it.

That was the precise moment my child morphed into a psychopathic lunatic. I was advised that 6 weeks is NOT enough time to truly prepare for a play and it takes one full hour to memorize one minute of dance. She pointed out that she would have to suffer the WRATH of someone named Stephanie if she didn't remember the dance steps. (Chloe just looked over my shoulder and told me I had BETTER not be emailing Stephanie about her not remembering a step, I assured her I was just emailing grandma about it - Yikes).

She's taking this all very seriously. And I am scared. Very, very scared. 6 weeks to go. I must keep my mouth shut at all times.

Help me.

flushed away

Last night I flushed the toilet and decided to scoop up the dirty laundry that my husband and I leave on the floor in front of the shower door. Much to my horror, a sock popped up and went directly into the spinning tornado of water. I attempted to grab it before it was sucked into oblivion, but alas, it was not my day to save the sock. So I scream like a banshee who sees a really big bug and my husband assumes the cat brought a mouse inside. When he comes in (no rush there, I could have been dead by the time he arrived), that sock was gone gone gone. So, I left him to figure out what to do, he's the man, he gets to deal with pipe issues. I think I poured myself a glass of wine immediately upon dumping what was left of the traumatized laundry down the shute.

True Love

I am in love with my walls. After a painstakingly long time of scraping popcorn off the ceilings of my soon to be bedroom, after deciding to texturize the ceiling so the flaws would not show and taking ages to do that (it's like painting glue and sand on the ceiling), and finally painting the ceiling white twice to cover the sand color, I finally started painting my walls with color this week. And today, I fell in love with the walls. I painted the upper portion a tan-gold color, which alone is kind of ugly, but then painted the lower portion with a hot chocolatey-color brown, and then after it dried, I sat on a chair and stared at it all. It looks fantastic. The brown makes the tan-gold pop, the entire combination makes me feel all warm like I am sitting at camp in front of a fire with a hot drink in my hands. I am going to love sleeping in my room.

My husband says color will not affect him at all. He likes white walls. I think he will love it when it's done. Especially because it will be hard to get me out of the bedroom at all!!!

Great Big Moose

I have a moose problem, I think. My husband had a moose theme going on in his house before I dated him and married him. Moose rug, moose blanket, moose shower curtain, moose cookie jar, moose plates....it doesn't end with those items, but you get the main idea.

So, I was informed ages ago by my dear friends ( I am not being sarcastic here, they really are dear friends) that I needed to make the house my own. Ok, we have white walls. To me, yes, boring. To my husband, white is normal and he likes it. So I made our new family room yellow and blue and I think there are days he can barely handle the stimulation. BUT, he really loves (I think) having all his beer steins and fire plaques and sports plaques all in one room. Not to mention the pool table and big screen TV. Is it SO his room, except for the yellow walls and the fact that I hold my scout meetings in there.

But I have to say, I really like the fireman theme, and I really like the moose theme. Maybe I would not have chosen it had I started from scratch, but the moose is part of my husband and a part of my girl scout friends out here (ask me any day and I will film me doing the Moose song and email it to you, but do not be surprised if you commit hari kari after you see it). So, the moose, from Bullwinkle in my childhood to the moose song today to my husband's rug, shower curtian, etc. is what I focus on as the big strong positive part of life. The fun part. The moose is one big, bad ass, cool, and smart animal and I want to safely see one in the wild. Or a park. As long as it's alive, it would be very cool.

There is no greater image for me of Western Washington than the Moose. The most amazing animal in some ways, so huge, so stunning, so noble, and can beat the crap out of you at any moment. All in the great green tree environment. Just like my man. Except he doesn't beat me, he just teases me to the point of annoyance at times. But all in good fun. Great Big Moose.