Morning Fog


Now in my 5th year of teaching full time, I have grown accustomed to the cold. To the runny-ness, the stuffiness, and the fogginess – not to mention the coughy-ness…not to be confused with the equally pertinent coffee-ness.

I give up. I no longer just hate being sick, I loathe it with the white hot loathing a slave has for its master. And with the same degree of complacency of knowing I can’t do a damn thing about it for it is my destiny to serve.

Speaking of serving, I have been awash in testosterone, Italian made, on the home front for years. Even my daughter was a tomboy, sandwiched between two overactive brothers. Even the dog is a tomboy, as dogs tend to be.

It is probably good that I work in a school where almost all of the teachers are female. It gives my life a little balance, and reminds me that there is nothing wrong with girliness. The fact that I am expecting a grand-daughter soon – my daughter’s daughter – fuels that fire.

One thing I have noticed working in a school full of females is that it isn’t at all like working in an office full of them was in the old days. That is a roundabout way of saying how touched I was when one of my fellow teachers brought me homemade chicken soup last week. She knows that when mom gets sick, there’s nobody to take care of her. I immediately started feeling sorry for myself when I realized that nobody does look out for me or take care of me, and I don’t particularly miss that because I thrive on the caring and the looking out for others…but it does feel good to be soothed now and then. Really good. It made me miss my mom, not just in her death, but I miss having had a mom for the 15 years or so before that. The mom that disappeared in herself after her stroke. I miss the mom. I used to know. I miss having had a mom close by all these year. Independence and adulthood and motherhood and self-reliance are awesome sirens, but sometimes I would trade it all to have my mom stroke my hair and give me a hug.

Anyway, the chicken soup was delicious, and I think it did help my cold. I know it soothed my soul.

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Philly Vacation

This week, which is also my birthday week, is Vacation in Philadelphia week. The last time were here was 2 years ago when FatherInLaw died.
So it’s been swell. Hanging with my 91 year old MIL is inspiring and we have had lots of gastronomic adventures so far. There have been cheesesteaks, tomato pies, cannoli, pretzels, Yeungling beer, salt water taffy, diners, Bob Evans, Starbucks delerium tremens, and Italian ices. So far.
I have also managed to hold back my slapping arm everytime I heard someone say we were going “down the shore” in reference to our jaunt to the New Jersey Shore today. That includes the loudtalker I overheard today in a store at the shore on the phone saying,”…I’m on vacation down the shore…” Prepositions people. They won’t kill you.

Anyway, I’m here to say that the overtaxed citizens of NJ at least get what they pay for. The roads! They are so smooth! And gas is so cheeeaaapp!
And they PUMP it FOR you! And the trees! And OMG the most outrageous blueberries evah!!!!
And everything is so clean! And people speak English!!!! The people at the shore were so Normal! And the sand was so pretty! And the sun doesn’t set over the ocean which is the most bizarre thing ever and totally impossible to wrap my mind around.

So anyway, this wasn’t my first trip to New Jersey but I guess after being back in California for about 10 years now, I have more appreciation for it. Too bad about that whole Winter thing.


Happy Happy

Time to come clean.
I was in denial for awhile, but am slowly coming around.

A very observant reader (who thought she was missing something, but really wasn’t) wondered when Sprite (darling daughter) got married?

I never, except for twice briefly and very recently, mentioned this. I certainly never announced, elaborated or even discussed it. I was secretly hoping she would have one of those “I could have had a V-8” moments and, oh, gotten it annulled or something.

So here is a little background.

Y’all might remember that she met, and fell into heavy dating immediately, a strapping young Cowboy/Marine about a year and a half ago. July ’06, to be exact. By early December they were engaged, despite our protestations for millions of reasons, with a teensy diamond on her finger and a fiance who was facing a year-long deployment to parts unknown, including the possibility of going back to Iraq.

There was no talking to her, she did not see the sense in waiting until he came back to get engaged, and did not agree that waiting until she graduated from college to get married was a smart move. But with such a long separation facing them, I figured the odds were good that they would drift apart in some way. She is quite the social butterfly and thought she’d fall for some other guy, frankly, ring on her finger or not.

Then he came home for a month-long leave August 1st. He had been gone for 7 months. She drove up to LA to pick him up, and they were going to go to Disneyland. I think I wrote that, actually, at the time. Instead, they drove to Las Vegas and got married. They did not tell us though.

Here is the thing, though. The second day they were back, I found the marriage certificate. So I knew, but they hadn’t told us. Quandry ensued. Mostly because I knew he was going away again for another 4 months and Mr. Wonderful would hit the roof if he found out. Would he kick her out? Would he not pay her tuition? I didn’t know what to do, so I didn’t say anything. Secretly I was happy that they weren’t just sleeping together, which makes me feel WAAAAAYYYYY too much my mother, but there it is. I said nothing. Not even here, which was weird, but there was the whole denial thing in my brain, coupled with not telling my husband so I just wanted to ignore it.

At the end of the month, right before they were leaving for LA (she was dropping him off at the airport and coming back), as we were saying our good-byes, he told us. I felt very proud that he obviously didn’t want to leave without us knowing, and sensed that she didn’t know how to tell us. So it was out. Mr. Wonderful was so shocked that he didn’t even notice that I wasn’t.

It was weird the last few months, but we just hung in there. She stayed at home and kept working and going to school, and right before he came back for Christmas, she found them an apartment. We are starting to come to grips with this now that he is back. The fact that they almost died together on an icy road in Montana certainly puts “marriage” in perspective, since it probably won’t kill them.

I have to say that she is very happy. He is very happy. The ironic thing is that through the last year and a half since they met, they have been married for 5 and have yet to be alone! Except for a night or two. They have been with family here or there, and as soon as they got into their apartment, his brother (along with his wife and baby) are moving in with them for 2 weeks until HE gets sent back to Iraq. For the 4th time, I might add. So then they will finally be alone. Unless somebody else drops in! I hope they still love each other when it is just the two of them.

Anyway, that is the story. My daughter is married. She is turning 20 on Tuesday, and I certainly never expected her to be married this young, but maybe it is the right thing for her. She is staying in school, and as long as they don’t have any babies for awhile to further complicate their lives, maybe they will do okay.

I got this from Diane.
It makes me wonder where any of my rants and cynicism come from really. I should just be humming and smiling, shouldn’t I?
I will redo this after I’ve been back in school for a couple of weeks and see how it looks.

This Is My Life, Rated
Life: 9.4
Mind: 9.1
Body: 8.2
Spirit: 10
Friends/Family: 7.2
Love: 9.1
Finance: 9.4
Take the Rate My Life Quiz


So much to say this time.

I did so many things I have never done. Or haven’t done in a while. And not one single thing was illegal or immoral. At least one was fattening, but you can’t win them all.

This was the MIL’s last full day here in SoCal. Tomorrow she heads back to Philadelphia, chaperoned by Sprite, bless her heart. WHEW HEW HEW I cannot wait to have my house back. Happy dancing all over the keyboard. While she is relatively quiet and unobtrusive, it isn’t easy having a ninety-year old in-law underfoot all the time. Having said that, I must add that I am impressed that she is able to be underfoot at ninety…it is really the In-Law part. We get along fine, it isn’t that. It is just that some of her ways annoy me. THEY HAVE BEEN ANNOYING THE HELL OUT OF ME FOR 6 *FECKING* WEEKS. AND YES I AM SCREAMING.

So we made her last day nice and pleasant. We went to lunch somewhere new, an Irish Tavern, to be exact. The Irish part made her verrrrry happy, but since she only had a hot dog (there’re Irish?) she really could have gone almost anywhere. She joked that the dirty coffee mug and knife proved that yes indeed the place was Irish. And she added that she could say that, being Irish herself. Whatever that means. I am sure she wasn’t implying that the Irish are dirty or anything.

And then we went to see Sprite and her marine’s new apartment, being all married and everything like they are, they have an apartment now that he is back from deployment. They had furniture delivered this morning, and since Mr. Wonderful and the 90 year old MIL had never seen where they were living, we went over. We also met her sister-in-law and niece. My daughter is an aunt. I guess that makes me a great aunt? I have to think about this. I will get back to you on that one.

I then went to school, yes on a vacation day, to do some work.
1. I took dirty cake pans, left by a well-meaning mom but dirty nonetheless, to the faculty room and washed them. Just what I wanted to do.
2. I washed 25 teeny-tiny first grade desks (read: bending over to reach them, stressing my back) with anti-bacterial wipes.
3. I washed the white boards.
4. I reset the fancy-schmancy calendar on the math board to reflect the new month.
5. I figured out what spelling unit to teach when we come back.
6. I took down all the remaining Christmas decorations.
7. I took down all the remaining Christmas artwork to send home.
8. I emailed a sub to see if she could come in one day when I have a conference to go to.
9. I watered the flowers outside, and the two poinsettias in my classroom.
10. I found a Target giftcard someone gave me the last day of school.
11. I gathered some planning and work materials to bring home.

Eh, that’s about it. Just a drop in the bucket compared to all I could have done.
But at least I am rested. I was so warn out and exhausted by the time school was out that I really couldn’t have gone on. I seriously needed a good week and a half to feel alive again. And to not cry every time someone asked for something. Or snap at my husband every time he looked sideways at me.

Okay after the whole school thing, I stopped and returned the giganto jeans I bought last week. Or earlier this week. Whenever that was. I couldn’t take it any more. They were just falling off me. Loose is great, but this was ridiculous. So I returned them and bought a size smaller without even trying them on. It worked. I am wearing them as I type and it is a big improvement. So yay on that front. I also found a cute little tote bag for Sprite’s birthday next week. It has Audrey Hepburn from Breakfast at Tiffany’s on it. Her favorite movie. She’ll think it’s cute, I’m sure.

Then we all met for dinner. The MIL, Mr. Wonderful, all three kids plus Sprite’s Marine. Seven of us for a celebration good-bye dinner. It was nice to have everyone together and of course I ate too much and am still very full.

Before Squirt went to bed, we played a little video game together because I love doing things that make me feel totally inept. Really, it’s a blast.

We watched some of the Iowa caucus returns.
I have no idea yet who I want to be President next. But I am sooooooo excited about Obama’s win. And Edwards taking second place on the Dem ticket. ONLY because that meanst that Hillary came in third. Yes. Third! I hate her with a white-hot hate and am thrilled that she came in third. I’m sure that is killing her. Happy dancing again. The best man for the job could very well be a woman, but one thing I know is that it isn’t THAT woman.

Bringing me to the point that I am SO insulted every time I hear people say that women will vote for her just because we are all women. I am so insulted by that sentiment that I cannot even elaborate on it. Almost any other reason to vote for her would carry more weight with me than that one…she is a women and so are 50+% of people in our country. I am damn sure that I wouldn’t vote for most of them, so why would I vote for her just because of her sex? Her education, maybe. Her position as first lady, maybe. Her job as senator, maybe. Her goals and visions, maybe. But her GENDER? How does that give her any automatic qualification. I, for one, gave up the whole boys against the girls thing in about 5th grade, but apparently there are people out there who think that grown people sort their peer groups and leaders that way. Amazing.


Feeling a little peppier

Yesterday, I just checked out.
Everything was finally over…the last day of school and Christmas shopping and cooking and Christmas Eve and Christmas day, and the day after Christmas and my mother’s birthday. Finally.
And I just stayed in bed. Everything hurt, and I was so tired that I slept most of the day away…something I hate doing, but I thought of it as a sick day.
I finally dragged myself out of bed, took my third prescription strength dose of Advil (something had gone kaflooey in my back) and went to the gym. Of course, after 10 minutes on the bike, my legs mutinied and dragged me to the sauna.

The sauna. My favorite place to be.

Unless there is a naked lady in there, then it is my most favorite place to feel uncomfortable as I try not to stare.

After I was done there, I went to my most favoritest nail salon, where the people are Vietnamese, but actually speak really good English. Most of them. As many women have discovered, it is not imperative that you actually communicate with your nail tech, but it does help sometimes. I like having that option. So anyway, I got a manicure and a pedicure and something from Starbucks, and called it my vacation day. To top it all off, my husband didn’t call once while I was gone, which is miraculous. That alone was worth it. That sounds cruel, but sometimes I feel like our phones are an electronic umbilical cord. The lack of missed calls when I finally checked my phone was like a little gift.

Today I felt much better. And he bought me jeans.
I didn’t want jeans. I have come to the conclusion that jeans only look good on the young and the thin. Fat old people just look dumpy and unimaginative in them. I have some, but never ever wear them anymore.
But we went out shopping while the Littlest one was at a party, and Mr. Wonderful force fed me jeans in the dressing room until I relented.
The ones I bought, I must confess, look okay. But they are too big. They are falling off me, and I think I am going to have to dig out a belt now. Bummer. I have stayed away from belts for a long time too.

So funny thing about these jeans, they fit my curves and aren’t tight so I don’t hate them. But they are kinda low cut, so they lay on my hips and that means they also tend to hang off them a bit. I like them, and they are driving me crazy at the same time.

But they are so much better than some I tried on…the kinds that grab at the top of the the thigh and bottom of the knee, and make my legs look like sausages in a denim casing. That is such a ridiculous look on me. One pair coupled that with such a baggy belly that I could have passed for a kangaroo. Or not. Just sayin’
And these are long enough too! That is always a bonus. I can wear my Bjorn clogs and the pants are still dragging the ground.

Okay, I know, enough of the sounding like I have never had jeans before. These will probably die in the back of my closet too. As soon as I lose a few holiday pounds, they probably will be too big to wear, even loving the looseness as I do. Oh well. Maybe I can take them in or something…I hate shopping for jeans. Always have, but for different reasons now. Used to be that my waist was so tiny that I would go through a dozen pairs before I could find one that fit in my thighs without hanging off me at the waist. That was when I was like a size 4.
I am not a size 4 now, but although substantially larger, I am built proportionately the same way. So now I have trouble getting the right fit, and the added bonus of looking like a cow at the same time.

Do you see how shopping can bring out the self-loathing in even the most confident of us? Damn disgrace, that’s what it is. Oh, did I mention that I’m dieting too? Starting the New Year’s farce early.

Seriously, I weigh 10 pounds more than I did the morning after I got back from Philadelphia (when I went to pick up my MIL right before Thanksgiving). That hurts, since I did a great job losing 20 during the summer, and more or less kept it off till now. Hence the club and the sauna and did I mention the Costco sized bottle of something called Zipfizz?

This stuff has a fat blocker, a carbohydrate blocker, an appetite suppressant, an energy booster and a personal trainer all rolled into a tiny capsule. Okay, I might have been exaggerating about the personal trainer. In fact the website says that you “have to exert your will power.” Bummer. I would love to buy a tube of will power. In fact, I am willing to go on record as stating unequivocally that lack of will power is the prime source of my downfall. There, I said it.

But, in an attempt to place blame elsewhere (like, say, on my mother-in-law) I have to tell you that she believes in the four food groups…and three of them are sweets. Candy. Ice cream. Cake. Try living with that, Zipfizz!! Will power my sweet patootie!

I think that brings us up to date.
Oh yes, I also sent a vague and noncommital email to my son’s principal. She will most certainly assume that it is job-related. However, the vagueness gives me deniability, should that be necessary. I could be a spy, I tell you.

Thanks for the advice, re the job dilemma.
For the record, I have worked in my son’s school and at different schools. I like being at his school better. And most teachers I know teach at their kids’ schools. Teaching is just such an all-consuming job that it makes it easier to balance work and home when they overlap that way.
Someone in a position to know better, whom I respect, counseled me to stay away from his school too. That is why I didn’t apply there last year. With all due respect, however, she never had children so never faced this dilemma herself. So while I admit certain points are valid (as some readers echoed) I still think I want to go for being at his school, unless the Principal feels otherwise. We’ll see what happens. I am hoping things work out for the best, whatever that may be.


Virtual White Christmas

If you are reading me via a feed, you NEED to click through and see the snow falling on my blog. That is a very big deal, my friends. It was 71 degrees and sunny here today, so a little of the white stuff, even if it is only pretend, makes it feel like Christmas.

You have no idea, unless you grew up in the sun/warm belt like me, how deprived you feel as a child when you keep hearing about White Christmases and see pictures of snow and snowmen and snowflakes and mittens and scarves and all that jazz. Oh sure, we get some cold weather, but come on.

One of the biggest thrills of my life was when we got snow on Christmas Eve one year when we lived in St. Petersburg, Florida. That was miraculous.

Enough about the weather. Weather is weather, right? Cold in winter, hot in summer. Lots of variation and anomalies and constant change, but basically, just background noise most of the time.

Okay…Now the important things: first of all Merry Christmas! to all and to all a good night. Mine was very nice and not so nice for different reasons.

In the naughty category:

1. The fact that I worked until Friday really cramped my style. I know I could get better organized and do more of this stuff earlier, but there is that whole “old dog new tricks” thing to take into consideration.

2. Corollary to above: I never sent even one Christmas card out. I used to send a lot of them. Cute pictures of the kids, the whole shebang. Sigh.

3. All the Christmas gifts that my assistant and I ordered in September, wrapped and boxed and have had sitting in the corner of my room? Still sitting there. I totally forgot to give them to the kids on the last day. Double sigh.

4. Good excuse for above, but still sucks: my daughter’s car accident Thursday night preoccupied my mind and kept me up all night so it is logical and understandable that I forgot to give out the gifts. But I would rather have had no accident to use as an excuse, you know? Cause it is 50-50 I would have forgotten them anyway.

5. My daughter is out of state and wasn’t with us. First time I was without one of my kids on Christmas. Double suck.

6. My mother-in-law has been here way too long.

7. My father-in-law wasn’t here…first Christmas since his death.

8. I didn’t get to see my parents. I am putting this in the bad category, but seriously, it is a double edged sword. Great to be with them, hell to be with them. Capice?

9. I never heard a peep out of youngest child, all day…too busy with his gifts. Whoops, this should go in the good column. /giggle

10. Cooking. Cooking. Cooking. Cleaning. Cleaning. Complaining. Complaining.

In the nice category:

1. I don’t have to go back to school until January 7th. Yeehaw.

2. My daughter is going to be fine.

3. I got a nice bonus from school, and lots of nice things from the parents/kids in my class. Especially the big gift that the parents got together on…an obscene amount of money to use at a ritzy spa. Hello. How did they know that I needed relaxation and pampering? How did they know their kids were running me ragged? I have to say, it is nice to feel appreciated. That is one of the perks of this job. If the parents like you, they make you feel like some kind of Goddess for being able to do your job. Of course, it can totally go the the other way with parents too, so really parents are the wildcard, aren’t they?

4. The tree, the tree. We do have the most beautiful tree ever this year. Ever. Of course, I decorated it piecemeal over the course of three weekends, but what the hell. A living room full of rubbermaid tubs and tissue paper is a small price to pay for a work of art like this. Right?

5. My oldest was here all weekend and Monday and Today. It was like he came home for Christmas, which of course would have been overkill since he lives 10 minutes away. But seeing him every day was great, and almost made up for the absence of the middle child.

6. My youngest is a total gift giving genius. This child is amazing the way he zeroes in on people’s personalities and tastes and picks an appropriate gift. I think he is doing all my shopping for me next year. And wrapping? He is a speedy and efficient wrapper. We are working on finesse…but between my style and his speed, we might be on to something here. Have I mentioned how much I adore this child?

7. Speaking of him….watching him serve midnight mass (which was actually at 10 pm, don’t ask) really choked me up. I have really super-vivid memories of having to hold him on my lap, arms around him like a straight-jacket, to get him to sit still in church. So seeing him sitting up there, carrying the cross out, doing altar boy stuff, really makes me beam a little. Ok, a lot.

8. Speaking of midnight mass (at 10 pm) that was the highlight of my holiday this year. First, we got there really early since my smallest wonder was serving mass. So we sat through 15 minutes or so of a Christmas concert that was going on between the 8 and 10 pm masses. It was magnificent, truly. You would be hard pressed to come up with a more professional and majestic church choir performance. Towards the end, our pastor sang a song. In French. He is French, and I have heard him sing during mass of course, and I think parts of Christmas Carols in French in the past. He has a beautiful, deep, expressive, voice and the song he sang was stupendous. I could have listened to him all night.
I tell you, there is something magical about sitting in a dark church on Christmas Eve, with all the candles and the people all dressed up and singing…and knowing that all those people are there for the same reason you are. That all the extraneous trappings of the holiday fall away, and we all just gather together and celebrate and REMEMBER why we have Christmas after all. I can’t tell you what a good feeling that was. It also made me realize that, despite all the other things I could have been doing between 9:30 and 11:30 that night…nothing was more important, and apparently a church full of people agreed with me. And so I sat there…with my husband at my side. With my mother-in-law and my oldest son nearby. With my youngest son serving mass at the altar. With the French priests who sound so melodious and enchanting. With the amazing choir and beautiful Christmas music. The church was full, in so many ways, and there was something comforting, almost womblike, about sitting there that night.

9. Saw my brother on Sunday. Mr. Entertainment. In town for the day. We went to Little Italy after lunch and yes, that helped make my Christmas. It also helped make my most yummy Lasagna.

10. I had a little meltdown on Saturday. But Mr. Wonderful held me and sympathized with me and reminded me that it isn’t things that are important at Christmas, it is relationships. And you know, that helped, even if it wasn’t rocket science. Because Christmas still came and it was still good. Those of us who were together had a great time, and we got to talk to those who weren’t. And just knowing that my husband, my partner, wasn’t putting unrealistic expectations on me was helpful. To be quite honest, as long as he gets laid, he’s good. Well, you know, he likes the food to be hot and tasty, the wine full bodied and not too sweet or dry, and dessert to show up when he has a craving. So I guess it is really food and sex. The rest is gravy.

I think there are more than 10, but that’ll do. For now.
I am off to sleep till noon tomorrow. That was an order from my MIL, so I guess I must sleep till noon. Like I actually listen to her….


Validating me

My mother-in-law is going to be 90 on Thursday, and you may recall that her husband passed last May. It is only right that she is here with us for the holidays and her birthday. As if to convince everyone that I really believe that, I flew to Philadelphia last Monday just so I could fly back with her on Tuesday.
Obviously because she is too old to fly alone.
In case that wasn’t as obvious as I thought it was.

Having said all that, and having proven how wonderful a daughter-in-law I am, it really drives me nuts having her here. In a very mild way. A mild kind of nuts. Not a screaming, ranting and “she goes or I go” kind of way. We did all that 20+ years ago, and we are way beyond that.

Half the time I am not sure why she drives me nuts exactly…just a person in my house who isn’t me, my husband or my kids, I guess.
Sometimes it is her personality. She is a total split personality. On the one hand she is VERY religious, generous, helpful, industrious, kind and friendly.
On the other hand, she is also very ignorant, bigoted, going deaf (get a hearing aid already!) and does things like rinse her dirty cups with cold water and before putting them back in the cupboard. She is extremely tidy, but not necessarily clean when it comes to household things. Neat as a pin…sanitary is not in her vocabulary.

Speaking of her vocabulary, I suppose it is a combination of her immigrant upbringing…her mother didn’t really speak English well (she was German) and her father was from Ireland. I suppose he spoke English, but not Americanish-English.
Add to the that the fact that she wasn’t a great student and dropped out of high school when her father died…she was about 15 I think. Then there are those regional differences. People in Philadelphia have odd words for some things. Mix that with ME…the former ENGLISH major…miss “use the proper word at all times and say what you mean/mean what you say.” I feel my skin crawling when she talks somtimes.
Over the years I know I have come accross rude when commenting, but believe me, it took every ounce of strength I had not to be much ruder! Much more extremely ruder to the MAXXXXX. I was holding my tongue as tightly as I could, but some forces are just too great to rein in entirely.

One example that stays with me 23 years later…Number one son was a newborn, and I was giving him a bath. She told me that she was always too “scared to bath her babies” her mother had to do it. BATH her babies??? BATH? As in a NOUN? I hate that she can’t say, “bathe.”

Things are never expensive, ever. They are “dear.” Always dear. I never heard that in my live from anyone but her.

A sandwich is a hoagie. A pizza is a “tamatah pie.” A lollipop is a taffy and sprinkles are jimmies. She doesn’t vacuum, she runs the cleaner. She doesn’t carry a purse or a bag, but a pocketbook. Can I tell you how much the word “pocketbook” drives me up the wall. What the heck is a “pocketbook” anyway? I say a small book, frankly. Not something large in which to put other things.

Oh, and I did I mention that I really could do without the reports on her bowel movements, stomach aches, and passing gas? I mean, I could really, really, really do without all of that. Seriously. I don’t do bodily fluids. Not other people’s.

Then, there is the fact that she feeds the dog constantly. And everything. And right from the table. We have a weak stomached-dog who can only tolerate hoity toity dog food and the occasional morsel of something else. So guess who got to be up with the dog in the middle of the night two nights in a row? While the dog threw up and had diarrhea??? Three guesses, and the first two don’t count. Hint: I’ll tell you it wasn’t HER.

I read a blogger today who mentioned that ranting and venting and getting it all out and down has been scientifically proven to promote sanity and happiness when compared to sunshine-and-roses diarists. So there…I have taken a healthy step forward in the name of my own mental health.

Just for the record, I will add that she means well, has a good heart and loves her family mightily. Those are good things and make up for alot. Having said that though, I have to say that between now and New Year’s, I anticipate much more work on my mental health to take place on these pages.

Speaking of pages…welcome to the new digs. Some of my old friends found me, and recognized me right away. Others I may have to drag over here.



Just kidding

The holiday is over.
Fun is over.
Vacation is over.
Sleeping in is over.

So why is my mother-in-law still here?


Well, it’s about time

I declared a turkey-free Thanksgiving and I have to say that I am proud of that.

Imagine the time and energy saved by not buying it, cleaning it, disinfecting around and after it, stuffing it, roasting it, unstuffing it, carving it, serving it and then dealing with the carcassy remains!

Everybody’s favorite side dishes perfectly accompanied an extra-large Honey Baked Ham, pre-ordered, glazed, cooked and sliced. Re-heating optional.

The decreased work load (due to lack of turkey prep and addition of desserts baked and delivered by dinner guest) gave me the inclination to drink several glasses of wine which made for a much-improved Thanksgiving on all fronts.
If it hadn’t been for the tantrum that drove my daughter from the table in tears early on in the meal, it would have been boringly perfect and uneventful.

Kudos to my offspring for delivering the requisite family drama. With my mother in relatively good health and not retching her food during the meal, we were in danger of skipping that part of the meal.

Grace was said, thanks were implied if not spelled out implicitly, and everyone survived.
Next stop, Christmas.

1 Comment »

Well, it's about time

I declared a turkey-free Thanksgiving and I have to say that I am proud of that.

Imagine the time and energy saved by not buying it, cleaning it, disinfecting around and after it, stuffing it, roasting it, unstuffing it, carving it, serving it and then dealing with the carcassy remains!

Everybody’s favorite side dishes perfectly accompanied an extra-large Honey Baked Ham, pre-ordered, glazed, cooked and sliced. Re-heating optional.

The decreased work load (due to lack of turkey prep and addition of desserts baked and delivered by dinner guest) gave me the inclination to drink several glasses of wine which made for a much-improved Thanksgiving on all fronts.
If it hadn’t been for the tantrum that drove my daughter from the table in tears early on in the meal, it would have been boringly perfect and uneventful.

Kudos to my offspring for delivering the requisite family drama. With my mother in relatively good health and not retching her food during the meal, we were in danger of skipping that part of the meal.

Grace was said, thanks were implied if not spelled out implicitly, and everyone survived.
Next stop, Christmas.

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