I Believe

Everyone else is sound asleep. Even my cat is knocked out right next to me and cats are supposed to be nocturnal. Because it is 4am when everyone sane should be asleep. It is Christmas, true, but still I am 38 years old so why am I awake? I'm just sitting here in bed literally kept awake thinking about how exciting it will be in an hour or two when Brandon wakes up and we go into the living room and see what Santa brought. One of his favorite things to say right now is "whoa" and he says it with gusto like the most exciting thing in the world just happened whenever something remotely cool happens. Like spinning in circles and falling down. That is Whoa-worthy. So, needless to say, I am looking forward to the Whoas today. The thought of them is keeping me up. Ironically, this is the first time ever that I've been kept awake due to my own excitement over Santa's visit. I was never kept awake with my excitement for Santa when I was a little kid. Oh, I was awake at 4am every Christmas... I was kept awake by my brother and his excitement. Every year he would be so excited that after being awake alone for as long as he could stand it, he would creep into my room, wake me up, and sit there and talk to me about what kind of Whoas the day might bring. And it was earlier than 4am. My parents had a 6am rule - we had to stay in our bedrooms until 6am and only then could we come and wake them up and then go into the living room as a family. Never once did we break that rule. So for hours every early Christmas morning I would sit there, 90 percent asleep, listening to my brother and his excitement. Excitement before we even went into the living room. Excitement over what could be. And it got me excited. And that is why I believe in Santa. As an adult, sitting here at 4am excited on Christmas day. Because this is the essence of Santa. Excitement. Hope. Family. Sharing. Love. And I believe in all of those things. I believe in the magic of Christmas. It's a Whoa for me.

What a difference 2 years and 10 months makes

I miss blogging. Or really just putting my opinion down on paper (or electronic paper.) It has been a long long time since my last post - 2 years and 10 months. Plus a few days. A long time. Needless to say, what a difference those 2 years and 10 months have had on my life!! Namely... Bran the man. My little monkey. My 15 month old who basically is my heart walking around in a small blond (Who knew I could have a blonde kid?) body. Which leads me to this - 1150pm on a Sunday night when I should be sound asleep I am typing a blog about nothing. And everything. You know you have to start somewhere, right? And this feels like a restart although I'm too lazy/smart to actually restart an entire new blog. Why, when this one is still here and ready to go and has a less-gray, less-mom-pooched, less bag-eyed picture of me. Not to mention how much of a techy-moron I am. So...Rock on! Ok so that's it. My promise to myself is more blogging. Becoming a mom has altered my life drastically and while I miss a lot of things I don't do anymore (happy hour w/ friends, movies in an actual theater, pedicures/pretty toes, long nights making pottery, non-gray hair) I am happy to trade it all in for the new amazing thing in my life - Bran. The truth is.. .I WANT to trade it all in for him and his dad. I love just being with the two of them at home doing nothing. And by nothing I mean everything. You think you know what you're going to be like as a mom. You think you'll feel this and do that and cook x and still do y. And then you become a mom. And you look back on your pre-mom self and think - You were a moron. You thought you knew everything, but you knew nothing. NOTHING. So that's where I'm at. Tired, ugly toes, gray hair, and happiness. Oh, and a cold. Because kid in daycare = constant cold. But that's for another blog...

Helloooooo February!

Oh January, what did I do to make you so mad?

First you welcome me with a four week ugly viral rash from neck to tail. I know I get cold a lot, but I don't need to feel burning hot that way, especially with the itching and exhaustion attached. I do appreciate how it gave me such gratitude for a hot shower though... since I couldn't take one all month.

Did you feel bad about making me so heated, so you decided to freeze me with the trip to the 'lady doctor'? Thanks for getting me to the doctor twice so soon in the year, by the way, so that I could discover exactly how much my insurance went downhill this year.

Were you wanting to peek in on my misery? Is that why you had the roof leak? The big chunk of ceiling peeling away in the living room has really added character. Super great bonus!

I thought you had finally gotten over whatever 'beef' you had with me... but then you used beef to knock me out with food poisoning. You thought you were clever, but luckily my arsenal was stocked with toothpaste and toilet paper not to mention that I had the delivery boy on standby bringing me Gatorade.

And the clogged kitchen sink: Drano and leftovers never-going-down-an-inch-stinky-pool in my kitchen - thanks extra for dinging me with that on a weekend. Good thing the plumber was so prompt coming right at 945pm on Monday night, only 14 hours after I called.

I guess you felt that I needed just one more slam on the last day of your visit, so you punched me in the eye. You sure are a sneaky one because I don't even know how you did it! But let me tell you, the bruised eyeball is just a delight and so ladylike. One more time luck was on my side as I was prepared having had my third doctor's appointment of the month - the eye doctor - so I had new glasses to slip on when my contact lens rejected the idea of being so close to my gross eyeball.

So I ask you: Why? Was I just a little too happy and healthy? Whatever I did to you - I'm sorry!!! But not sorry enough to want you to stick around anymore. I'm ready for February who promises me rainbows and kittens and dark chocolate with sprinkles.

Suzy

To Whom It May Concern

Dear August,

As you know, May was gray and June was gloomy, but that is what we have come to expect from those months, they were at least predictable in their chilly attitudes. Your friend July, however, was a big disappointment spending her time being colder than ever before. Still I had faith that when you arrived you would bring with you sunshine and happiness. How wrong I was. You have brought only illness and more cold.

I plead with you. My tan is more faded than an Ohioan in winter, my beach chair has forgotten what it feels like to be planted in warm sand, and my boogie board is now afraid of the water it has been so long.

Please, stop this nonsense already. Bring on the California sunshine. And while you're at it, talk to your friend September. Remind her that she is beautiful and warm too.

Affectionately yours,

Suzy

Crazy Like A Wenus

There we were, three Kuchtas at the Padre game innocently booing the Dodgers when we saw the most unbelievable thing ever.

Was it a perfect game? An in-the-park home run? Manny Ramirez actually playing great defense? NO!!!


It was a tattoo.


A tattoo of a kitty.


A tattoo of a hello kitty.


A tattoo of a hello kitty right above a girl's wenus!!! (google it if you don't know)

So I laughed and leaned in closer. I mean what kind of person gets a tattoo of hello kitty, right? And that's when I saw it.

The kitty had a mustache!!! A big handlebar mustache!!!

Can you imagine going into a tattoo parlor and saying "excuse me, but you sir with the spikes out of your head and skulls and snakes on your neck... Can you draw a hello kitty for me? On my arm right here by my wenus? Oh, and add a handlebar mustache please."

Are you serious??? That chick has some guts! So here it is, a snuck picture of her mustachioed kitty wenus.

A Trashy Story

I was making Sangria and cutting up all that fruit made me want to take the trash out so the fruit-guts wouldn't seep all over. Reasonable, right? And since I am a smarty, I decided to multi-task and take all of the trash down at the same time and then take a quick drive to the redbox and return The Wrestler and She's Out Of Your League. Odd combo, but both worth the $1.25 rental cost. By the way, not the redbox on the corner, the one 0.6 miles away that had Big Fan available per my iPhone app - thus the drive.

So here I am in my yoga pants and t-shirt with the wine stain (aka the cooking shirt) and I gathered up my three trash bags - fruit guts, bathroom, and used kitty litter. I grabbed my purse and movies and locked the door and started down the stairs. That is when it happened.

The plastic handle on the bag of kitty litter broke and the bag dropped on the third step from the top and literally exploded all the way down the steps. Every step all the way down had litter clumps of cat pee and the kitty-roca-turds scattered. It was a masterpiece of epic proportions, getting as much distance and separation as possible.

I did what any sane person would do, I put my purse and other two bags down in front of my door and went inside to get a broom, dust pan, and new bag and then painstakingly picked up every piece of wayward litter. I finished at the bottom step and not wanting to risk another bag-plosion, I left the broom and dustpan at the bottom of the steps and took the new litter-trash out the back gate to the dumpster.

That is when I realize that my gate key was in my purse (dang the yoga pants lack of pocket) and my purse was sitting in front of my front door alongside my fruit-gut trash bag and bathroom trash bag.

My broom and dustpan sat at the bottom of the stairs, mocking me from within the gates. I yelled. I shook the gate. I cried. And then I said a silent prayer that I had been wise enough to take the extra minute to put a bra on which doesn't always happen when it's just taking out the trash.

After a long 10 minutes, I saw a glimmer of hope. There riding up on his bike to the front gate was my neighbor! My heart sank though when he yelled to me "I forgot my gate key, can you help?" Seriously? So there we were, two idiots at opposite gates yelling to each other and waiting until another neighbor finally came and rescued us.

My purse, keys, bathroom trash, and fruit guts were all patiently waiting for me at the top of the stairs.

When Lunch.... Isn't.

Have you ever been shopping in Target, looking for a bathing suit because your friends laughingly pointed out to you at the *end* of a day that you spent walking around in your bathing suit while at Glen Ivy Day Spa that your bathing suit was, in fact, so used that it was completely see through in the butt and then gently (or, really, not gently) told you it was time, even though you loved that bathing suit, to let it go and get a new one?

Well, I have.

So... that brings me to Target and bathing suit shopping after work one day which is torture in itself because, let's face it, those lights in Target are not flattering for anyone and it is way too late in the season to have any good selection of suits and the cute ones are all mismatched - you find a top, but not a bottom... a bottom, but not a top... and so it goes. Plus, you know, you are TRYING ON BATHING SUITS. Anyway, I digress...

There I was, going into the dressing rooms, and those two sales girls who always seem to have nothing to do but hang out in the dressing room area and refold the same shirt 100 times while they talk constantly about nothing? Well, girl A said to girl B "Are you going to lunch now?"

It was just after 645pm. Who eats lunch at nearly 7 at night? LUNCH! I get that you have a job where you work from 3pm to 11pm and that stinks, but your "break" is not "lunch" it is just a break away from work that is required by law and if you really need to label it as a meal, why not "dinner" since it is SIX FORTY-FIVE P.M.

I'm just saying.

Maybe I was traumatized by the bathing suit experience... but... I dunno. I've overheard this same nocturnal-lunch discussion (ie... "when is your lunch break" "are you going on lunch now" "are you ready to take lunch") in other stores too (Kohl's) and it always startles me when it is clearly night time and a good 6 or 7 hours past when I myself had lunch.

Have I been working day shifts too long? Am I tainted? Does that question make you hum "Tainted Love" in your head?

Target. Giving me things to ponder about on a regular basis.

Temptation

Here it is in one little word - iPhone.

Seriously... How did I live without one? And more importantly, who will do my laundry while I am too distracted by my phone?

It is so beautiful in it's little purple case...

I think I could be a tech-geek! But probably not. After all I am still resisting cable...

Alumination

You know the advertisement section of facebook - over on the right side of the home page where the powers that be try to guess who you may or may not be friends with just because you have a friend or two in common? Well, I've noticed the same name popping up over and over again. YHS Alumini.

The more high school people I become facebook friends with, the more pushy facebook gets that I should, in fact, also be friends with YHS Alumini. We have 12 friends in common. I'm not sure who it is that started this page, but there are 2,317 people who are currently facebook friends with YHS Alumini.

It would, in theory, be a nice way to touch base and maybe re-find some old friends. However... I'm not quite sure what an Alumini is. It sounds like something you wrap your fish in before you put it on the grill. Or maybe a secret society like the Illuminati. Or what a light bulb does to a dark room. It doesn't sound like high school graduates.

Do you think I should email this girl and let her know that the word is really alumni? Is it possible that she isn't aware? Or would I just be embarrassing her?

I mean... I get it... misspelling a word here or there... it's natural... but *come on* it is the *name* of the page! You are representing Yucaipa, home of chickens, skunks and flies. And, apparently, Alumini.

Conspiracy In The Beauty Aisle

I had an eye infection. If you've never had one, here's the gist of what happens... your eye hurts, you go to the doctor, you use antibiotic eye drops, you go without a contact lens for a week, and POW you're good to go again. Easy breezy beautiful.... right?

But hold up a second Cover Girl. That is not the end of the experience. You then have to dispose of all of your eye makeup and then repurchase new stuff. Because I'm a low maintenance girl, for me that is only three products: mascara, eyeshadow, and eyeliner. I went to replace these three products from the beauty-store-galore, Target expecting to pay around $35 total.

However... there seems to be a conspiracy in the beauty aisle because.... the eyeshadow I love... the one that looks perfect on my eyes... that makes me feel cute... is no longer. The product has, apparently, been discontinued. Why? No reason. My simple pack of three perfect colors has been replaced by a pack of ten colors - some of which should never be on an eyelid, each portion of which is tiny and crammed in tight next to the others. I'm not spending $11 on that.

*sigh*

I went on a hunt and tried to find, amongst the other brands, a shadow trio that was similar to what I had. I thought that I found one... but when I brought it home and used it it was horrid! It was... sparkly. Like my eyes were all a-glitter. Let me just advise... if you have ANY eye wrinkles what-so-ever... adding glittery eye shadow is like putting a big arrow straight to your crows feet. Plus, glitter is for crafts, not eyeshadow.

Back to Target, repeating this buy, try, be horrified... process. And as you can imagine this starts adding up financially!!!

Is this a conspiracy? Could it be that all of these makeup companies are in cahoots with each other and do this constant discontinuation of products intentionally so innocent people like me end up buying a lot of new stuff from various brands trying to find something that works?

Has this happened to you too? Because this is not the first time it has happened to me!!!

What's your thought... conspiracy... or do I just like products that are unpopular?