Morning Fog

Just scratch it off with your fingernail

More random thoughts, since those from yesterday went over so well…

I am loving the dry cleaner right now.
You have no idea (or possibly, you do) how little time I have to hand wash, air dry and gently press myself, let alone my fine washables. And I am quite sure that you have no idea the relief I feel when I take an armload of things in and dump it on them to deal with. And then there is the utter joy of a crisply cleaned and pressed clothing item to wear. No dog hair for the moment. Hems are magically back in place and no longer sagging. Spots have vanished. Buttons and those damn hook ‘n eye closures have reappeared. Deep breath, ah, they smell wonderful.

I no longer look askance at dry cleaners. Nay, I bow down before them and promise to keep them in business as long as they keep my things looking good. My favorite pair of slacks is there right now. I am keeping my fingers crossed that they come home safely…I sent them to be repaired since I caught them on the corner of a filing cabinet the other day. Of course my favorite pair. The pair I wore again on Wednesday even though I had just worn them on Monday. I rationalized that with a different sweater,nobody would care. Certainly the kids don’t. And I love them that much that I rationalize how often I can wear them.

If they were like the other trousers (dress code…can’t wear the casual stuff) I have (read: bought at Marshall’s for a fraction of their retail price) I might have tossed ’em. But of course they are the one pair I paid full price for. I love them that much. It takes a mighty fine piece of clothing for me to pay full price without at least holding out for a sale. Having said that, I think I actually have a pair I bought at Marshall’s that cost more, but they were Ralph Lauren and a nice wool and fully lined and while they were expensive, they weren’t as expensive as they would have been in a store, and I am very good at justifying things like that to myself. Anyway, they are my favorites. And I hope they are going to be wearable, otherwise the dry cleaner and I may have to spend some time apart for awhile. You know how it is when your trust is broken. It’s hard to just go on pretending that nothing ever happened.

For many years the dry cleaner was my least favorite thing in the world. It is one task that is nearly impossible to do when you have small children. One city we lived in had a great service that picked up and delivered regularly. That was nice. But I have too many horrible memories of trying to juggle a couple of men’s suits, in those slippery bags, while trying not to drop a baby from my other arm. While holding onto another child. And trying not to lose my purse, car keys, or my footing.

The worst was when we lived in Manhattan and I went everywhere on foot with Jolt in his stroller. It was fine until we had a lot of snow. A lot of snow. Strollers don’t always do well in the snow, anyway. Especially the old, hard, dirty, icy moundy kind or snow. Add a big ole slippery pile of dry cleaning to the mix, and well, you have the very definition of frustration.

But bygones. Bygones. The dry cleaner and I are friends now, and I can’t wait to see my favorite slacks again soon. Let’s hope I can get over my loathing of file cabinets now, shall we?

This might explain why I’m having so much trouble acting my age…I act like I’m only 38!!! I’ll take it!!! Am I pathetic, or what!!!

You Act Like You Are 38 Years Old

You are a thirtysomething at heart. You’ve had a taste of success and true love, but you want more!
You’re responsible, wise, and have enough experience to understand a lot of the world.

You’re at the point in your life where you understand yourself pretty well.
You are figuring out what you want… and how to get it!

What Age Do You Act?
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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.