Alone in a Crowded Room

Have you ever had that experience where you see a skit or song or commercial and it just LINGERS with you? You love it. And maybe you can't even explain why exactly? A few months ago, there was an SNL skit with Adele where 4 friends in 2019 go to a fortune teller to see what their lives will be like in 2020. That's the lingerer for me; I laugh just thinking about it.  

One woman asks if she'll live with her boyfriend - and the fortune teller says yes, she sees them crying over how much to wash a bag of chips. One man asks about travel and is told he will road trip to Kentucky and they will pee in a cup instead of using a public bathroom. One woman is told she just colors all the time - no plays, no concerts, no parties.  One is told that the other three will turn on him because he commits a huge sin - he eats inside a restaurant. This skit cracks me up so much. Every part of it is hysterical.

And here's why it lingers. IT IS MY LIFE. It's funny because it's true. 

2019: Amusement parks, Live Music, Travel, Restaurants, Parties, PEOPLE IN MY HOUSE, Good Times

2020: Coloring for Adults, Washing Groceries, Take out only, A road trip to Kentucky (ok, it was Texas but same-same.) And a whole load of kleenex.

And for months I've just thought that - it's funny because it's true. But lately it's hit me a lot harder because it's more than that. It's still funny, but it's not FUN because while these things are true for me - they are not true for what feels like 99% of the people living in my area. And what that's led to is feeling like I'm alone laughing in a crowded room of people that don't get the jokes. It's made me feel like I have to apologize to people for turning down a party invitation. Or for asking someone to wear a mask. Or for not being willing to eat inside a restaurant. It's made me bad-mouth myself, calling myself names like psycho and worry-wart and overprotective and crazy and turd... for FOLLOWING SCIENCE. And I hate that. I. Hate. That. It's the opposite of funny. 

I love Tennessee. It's green, houses are inexpensive, great schools in our town, there are so many places to explore, etc...  But also, I have cried long hard tears in the middle of the night on multiple occassions because, during 2020, I hate Tennessee. During anti-Science, hoax/conspiracy-believing racist nasty 2020 - I hate living in a state where I am screaming alone and no one hears me because they are too busy living like it's 2019.  I hate hearing/seeing people talk about how "rough" they've had it because they didn't eat in a restaurant for 6 weeks and how they had their kids home an extra 2 months last spring and that was terrible. I hate being told that "real men don't wear masks" about 8 year old boys. I hate the snarky mean facebook comments. And most of all, I hate that my sweet child is watching from the window. He sees everyone doing everything, and he is told no. It guts me when he tells people "in another YEAR I'll be able to play basketball." Not because kids aren't playing here because THEY ARE, but because his mom thinks 15 sweaty kids deep breathing in each others faces unmasked inside a building is not safe enough to say yes to during Covid. 

I have tried to not judge. To know that every situation is unique. And I don't really know everything going on with people. Many people, especially parents, are making hard choices. And I get that. But I also know that I feel incredibly judged all of the time. Not just in my mind, but through actions and statements from strangers, aquaintances and friends. So in the middle of the night, sobbing on the floor, as 2021 becomes act 2 of 2020... I need a new funny skit to linger on that doesn't cut so close to my bleeding heart.

Chit Chat on Christmas Eve

My five year old likes to have what he calls "chit chat" every night with me after stories, as the last thing we do before he goes to sleep. I snuggle up with him and he tells me about his day. Or asks me serious questions. Or asks me silly questions.

This is, literally, the best 15 minutes of my day. I learn so many things about him.

Tonight he asked me to tell him about the dogs I had growing up. So I did. I told him about all the dogs, but especially about the dog I had named Tootsie Roll. He laughed a lot at her name and asked me what she looked like. So I described her a little - a small very soft dog with big ears, a mix between red and brown. (FYI, mini dachshund) So then while we were discussing dog fur colors he said this amazing thing to me...

"Mom, we are peach colored. I think that God is probably half peach, like us, and the other half of God is brown, like other people."

I tell you, my heart stopped. This boy, I love him in his innocent wisdom. I just answered that yes, I thought he was exactly right about God being both peach colored and brown colored at the same time.

Travel Stories from Budapest

In the past I've kept a travel journal, but I'm too tired these days to do that - so I'm just going to blog a few cool things that have happened here in Budapest on this trip so far. For my own record so I can look back. For your enjoyment to read about. Just because I can type faster than I could ever write it all out by hand and I can type in the dark on a laptop while Jason and Brandon sleep. Because that's my free time.

Traveling 24 hours with an 18 month old:
We left home at 5:30am, got to the airport at 6am two hours early, flew to Seattle (3 hrs plus 3 hr layover) then to Amsterdam (10 hrs plus 2 hr layover) then to Budapest around noon - getting to the hotel around 130pm. With an 8 hour time difference that is a 24 hour trip. Mostly it was good. Because we were smart enough to trudge along a car seat to Europe. When Bran fell asleep right away on the 10 hr flight I was a moron and watched Frozen instead of sleeping immediately too... and then regretted it when he woke up after only 2 hours and stayed awake the next 6 hours of the flight... but they had lots of good movie choices so it wasn't too bad. It just meant I had to execute my mom super-power of being able to function on hardly any sleep. It also meant that on the change in Amsterdam Brandon was walking through the terminal and just spontaneously stopped to lay down on the floor of the airport. Gross, right? He did it 4 times. I gag a little thinking about it but what are you supposed to do? We got him up and kept going.

Meals:
Our first day we stopped by a little place to have a quick dinner near the hotel. They had gyros. When we bit into them... they were tacos. Shredded beef tacos. Delicious. But really... as Jason said... we flew 8000 miles to have tacos in Budapest?
Our second day we had Goulash for lunch - amazing. Brandon slept through the whole lunch in his stroller. It was his nap time *kind of* so no huge shock. But then at dinner that night he did it again - he got in the highchair looking awake and by the time the food came he was out cold, sleeping with his head on his arms on the table. Cute. Jetlagged and cute.
So lunch day 3... Brandon finally was awake for a restaurant meal (as opposed to the breakfast of cereal and bananas in our room)... and he went for it. Making friends with the entire wait staff, being a total ham. And he tried duck (loved it) for the first time. I did not mention anything about it being the Quack Quack type of duck. He also had a strawberry ice cream cone afterwards which was about 50% on his face, 50% in his mouth. Also loved it, especially being able to hold the cone himself.

Park:
We were on the Buda side up on the hill looking out at the view of Pest across the river and suddenly Brandon just started saying "weeee" over and over and pointing. And there, behind a wall with just a peek of it visible in spots - was a playground. Because "weeee" is the sound you make on a swing so that must be also what a swing is called now. So we went to the park and had a great time playing. Brandon loved all of the tiny rocks - so much that we found a couple in his diaper hours later.

Rock Star:
We were in this huge market - three levels of food, crafts, books, toys, meats, cheeses, cookies, fruits, paprika in every shape and flavor and size, dead sheep heads, you name it. Anyway walking through this market the women were just swooning over him. It was insane. They were coming out and talking to him, waving at him, playing peek-a-boo, coming out of their booths to see him, giving him stuff, etc... And he was working it - laughing, smiling, waving, and downright flirting with them. I have never seen anything like it. Rock star I tell you. He might be too young to remember this but I will never forget it.

Ponderings on a Monday Night

So it was an exciting weekend here at our house. Brandon turned 18 months, Jason turned 504 months (aka 42 years) and it rained a ton which was needed badly because we are in a drought, unlike the rest of the country that has been covered in wet snow for three month. Brandon also had four (yea) teeth break through this weekend - all four canines. Or eye teeth. Or meat-rippers. Whatever you want to call them. He was remarkably cool about it. A little touchy about food this last week but all things considered really not bad at all.

So exciting and relaxing weekend - teeth, birthdays, rain. It all got me thinking about how huge the changes are in Brandon since his first birthday just 6 months ago and I realized that it was a good time for me to take stock of his current vocabulary and jot it down in his baby book.  I also want to be able to answer the question at his 18 month well-baby visit and not seem like an idiot parent who has no idea what her kid can say and do... So I wrote down the list of words he can say (in his way) and was shocked when the list went over 70 and is still growing (as I think of more.) It's amazing. I am amazed at him. 

And while I was making this list I was watching the Bachelor "Women Tell All" episode. I know. It's brainless and fake but whatever - they travel to cool places and you get to watch people fight over someone they don't even want. During the filming these chicks were fighting and crying over this guy and now 2 months later they are talking about how they never liked him or wanted him. Wha??? Editors can't FORCE you to cry and sob over a guy. So this also got me thinking... where do I want my blog to go. Should it be brainless entertainment like this show? Funny, lighthearted, things like pedicures and truck balls and how when you cut a strawberry it turns somehow from a very small piece of fruit to a huge bunch of bites like magic? Or should I go the other way. Real conversation. Express my opinion on real things? Is the blog more "simply suzy" or more "suzy's view?"    

What part of Brandon's word list should I be like?  Fun words like monkey (mon-mo) and shoes (shooooos) and santa (tan-ta) or heart-warming words like Mary (ma-ee) and please (peas, along with the sign-language, just about melts you) or serious words like no (noooo with raised eyebrows) or all done (spoken correctly with the sign and a desperate look to please let him move on to the next thing especially if what he's currently doing is sitting on his potty.) Or maybe I can be like his whole list. A mix of everything. And growing more all the time.

Pedicure - How young is too young?

Brandon is 17 months old and I have had 2 pedicures since he was born. Two. Because I don't have excessive free time now and my weekends are usually spent doing something with family - traveling, visiting, going to the park, grocery shopping, cooking, wiping booger-noses, watching The Lorax, etc.... They are not spent having a stranger rub sea salt into my legs and painting my toes even though it feels amazing.

So imagine today I went for my second pedicure in 17 months and it was not the adult-experience I envisioned because... someone brought their baby with them. I'm guessing 10 months old - cute little girl who behaved really well - going back and forth between her parents (who both were there getting pedicures) laps. Her mom even painted her toes to match her own. The girl was sweet. But did she really belong in a nail salon? I realize I'm opening a can of worms with this since I would take Brandon *almost* anywhere with me... but I wouldn't take him to the nail salon. First, I couldn't relax with him there. But most importantly I think the smell of the polish and whatever other magic potions they use are super strong and just don't seem like something that would be good for him. 

Hmmm.... what do you think? How young is too young for a pedicure at a salon?

Skymall - the Newest Toddler Book

So we were flying home last week from Florida and I had Bran on my lap and of course he wasn't sleeping, but rather wanting to read all of the books we had. And by books we had... I mean all of the pamphlets and such that are in the seat back pocket on the plane. Because unlike awesome mommies who plan ahead, I didn't have any books (and by that I mean actual kids books) with me. I had monkey, so I'm not sooo bad, but no books.  Anyway...

Bran wanted to read all of the books. After the 8th time reading the safety pamphlet and me showing him all the people swimming in the "pool" and riding in the boat and going down the slide, he insisted on better literature. So I pulled out the Skymall magazine. I used to look through the Skymall magazine all the time to look at funky stuff and laugh, but since I had Brandon my time on flights is otherwise occupied. So I had forgotten how awesome Skymall magazine is. Here are a few of my favorite things from it...

Do you need something to hold toilet paper *and* your ipad while you pee? As a bonus, it sprays your butt clean too! For only $99.99 (really) the Biffy Butler Bidet Sprayer does it all!  Don't worry, it is in beautiful chrome so it fits right into your bathroom.

Do you want to be shot across the lawn like a human-bullet in a person-sized rubber band? You can be with the Human Slingshot! The top reviewer says it is a bit dangerous for a 40-ish woman and some drunks... so... maybe this should be a pre-party event?

Are you losing the man of your dreams because he's a butt guy and you have no junk in your trunk? You should try the Magic-Benefit Panty!! It's undies that both lift your cheeks and make them larger by adding padding to your butt because what woman doesn't want to add more bulk to themselves unnecessarily?

And finally... are you jealous of how your one-year old can drop his cup and the milk stays in? Well here's something just for you - Sippy Wine Glass. Because, according to Skymall, "juggling a glass of wine can be challenging."  No doubt Skymall.... when I hear the word challenging - drinking wine is exactly what comes to mind!!

And these are just the tip of the crazy iceberg.  If you want some great entertainment while you fly (or sit on your couch) skymall is the book (or website) for you.

Vinegar and The Mother

When I was 4 years old I noticed that my grandpa drank a shot of vinegar every day and I decided I wanted to do that too and that is how my love of vinegar began. I would pour it on salad (no oil needed) and drink it out of the bottom. I would put it on spaghetti or chicken. I swear it is the reason that my mom's cole slaw is the best around - because it is heavy on the vinegar. I can still drink it straight with a smile. I love vinegar. Kind of... What I mean is... I did enjoy vinegar until today when Jason ruined it for me. He innocently mentioned at dinner "Do you know how vinegar is made? It's made from alcohol! Malt vinegar is made from beer! I'm going to pull some beer aside in my next batch and make some vinegar!" I thought, great!! Use a bottle of merlot from our stash and make some red wine vinegar too!! Excellent! Home made vinegar!!! So while I watched The Biggest Loser, Jason watched video's on You Tube on how to make vinegar at home. And then... he shared some interesting things with me. Vinegar is made from bacteria. One guy said he just spit into his beer and set it aside for a few months. Gross. According to the all-knowing internet, the most legitimate way to make malt vinegar is to put some beer and a banana peel in a jar and let it sit and attract flies. The bugs and flies come and get into the beer and act as the source of bacteria. After a few weeks to a few months you then separate out the bug parts, the nasty banana peel and this goopy thing that looks like a big wad of snot that is called "the mother." And you have vinegar. AND you can take "the mother" and put it in another jar of beer and the mother will continue to make vinegar because it is never-ending with it's power to turn beer into malt vinegar. And then, when I was just on the brink of not being able to ever drink vinegar again, he tipped the scales by showing me an entire page of images of different "mothers." It's enough to make a strong stomach weak. Google it if you dare. And now I'm sitting here crying a little thinking about how difficult it is going to be to drink vinegar again. And how sad it is that the crazy-gross booger-wad is called "the mother." But maybe that's what being a mother is - a totally crazy thing that changes life in a magical way that you never even dreamed possible.

Crazy Trucks

A few blocks from our house, on the road that leads out of our neighborhood, is a house that has a truck parked in front (a regular sized pickup truck nothing fancy) that is so high up, so lifted off of the tires... it is ridiculous. It's so insanely high that other people coming to our house have commented on it to me without prompting. My question is - what is that about? We don't live in the mountains or desert. We live in suburbia with paved roads. Target, Walmart and Costco are all only 2 miles away for crying out loud! So why does this guy need that 10 feet of air between tire and truck? What is that about? Does it make him feel manly? What kind of girl is going to want to date this guy when she can't even get into his truck without a full sized ladder to help her in! It's nuts!! And speaking of nuts... and trucks... what is with truck balls? Seriously, what is with them? You know - the faux male genitalia that are attached to the back of a truck and hanging down. Here's a picture if you don't know what I'm talking about.

Hve you seen these? They are ridiculous!! Again, what kind of guy would put these on his truck? Who is he trying to attract? What is he trying to say? I don't know anyone that would think "Oh yea, I wasn't sure if I should go out with you or not but then I saw you had a big plastic NUTSACK hanging from your truck and that won me over."  Seriously??? You know who is saying that?  No one. Ever.

The New Disney Princess - Strong and Independant

I love Disneyland. I love seeing kids excited, I love feeling like a kid, I love the magic, I love the music and parades, I love it all. Except the lines, but who thinks of Disneyland and says 'Gee, I can hardly wait until we get there so we can wait in a line.' But I digress... I love Disneyland. And Disney movies. I have a lot of friends who are... how to put this in a way that is honest and yet shows I actually value this characteristic... Crunchy. My friends are mostly crunchy. They are environmentalists, composters, backpackers, organic-food-eaters and feminists. Something about this crunchiness also lends itself to hating Disney. Not everyone of course, but there is a good chunk of overlap between Crunchy and Disney-hater. And I kind of understand where they are coming from when you look at the old Disney Princess model. Snow White - hid in the woods where she cooked and cleaned for 7 strange men and was saved from being a vegetable by the magic kiss of a man she didn't know at all. Ariel the little mermaid - left her family and her entire life behind and changed her whole identity for a guy she barely knew. Cinderella - treated like scum by her step-mother. She was too afraid to do anything about it until a guy she'd snuck off once to see came and took her away from it all. These are weak sounding women. And by women I mean Princesses. These chicks *should* have power because they are Princesses but they don't! They give it away! I don't have a daughter, but I certainly don't want my son to think this is what women should be. I get it. I still like these movies, but I get it. However, it has come to my attention after a fantastic Friday night at the drive-in watching the newest Disney movie Frozen, that my Crunchy friends are wrong about Disney and their Princesses. Disney has a new style of Princess lately and she is awesome. Get ready Disney-lovers, because here come some movie spoilers. Frozen is about two sisters - a Queen and a Princess - who discover that true love can save them. But it's not the true love of a handsome strange guy they barely know - NO! It's the true love between sisters! And they save themselves while said handsome strange guy turns out to be a total punk and dorky woodsy nature guy turns out to be dateable (but they don't need him to save them.) Or take the Disney movie Brave - a princess has suitor-princes come to battle for her hand in marriage. But NO! She decides she doesn't want that so she joins the battle herself to fight for her own right to be alone and she wins because she's a stud with weapons! And in the meantime she develops a better relationship with her mom! Or the Princess and the Frog - a maid's daughter who dreams of owning her own restaurant. Spoiled rich prince becomes frog, turns her into a frog, they travel around and she saves his butt, he becomes a better human being because of her influence and poof - HE changes his life for HER! He changes so that she can have her dream. They live happily working like crazy in a restaurant! These Princesses are awesome amazing women! They are not the old-school Disney princess damsel-in-distress characters that used to be. This is the new Disney. So friends... stay crunchy. I love those qualities. But also stay open to changing your mind about Disney - it might just be magical after all!

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?

Why I Am Not A Celebrity

Do you know that baby shower game where you have to taste-test baby food and guess what type of food (and I use that term loosely) it is?

It is the worst baby shower game ever, right? Disgusting, I think, is the word that comes to mind. Truly gag-worthy. I cry a little when I see those label-removed mini jars come out.

So...

Can you imagine if someone told you that you had to eat 14 (FOURTEEN!!!) servings of baby food a day as a way to diet and lose a few pounds? For a part in a movie because you wanted to look just a wee bit extra toned. And you agreed to it. And then made it public knowledge. You're a lunatic, right?

Or... you're Jennifer Aniston. You know, the one that Brad Pitt divorced?

If this is what it takes to be a celebrity, count me out. Not that I have any desire what-so-ever to be a celebrity. But if I did, this would be a big red X on the negative side of the balance sheet next to the no privacy and having to wear makeup out on Saturday mornings. I mean really, is this what it takes? BABY FOOD???

It is just mind-boggling.