Showing posts from February, 2016

Broken Dreams

As most long-time readers here know, I am a short, busty person who desperately misses her waist. I have mostly made my peace with this situation; but sometimes - as I waste time on the Internet looking longingly at clothing and knitting patterns that will never, ever look right on me - I allow myself to fantasize that I am tall and lithe. I pretend that I, too, can wear those long cardigans, those curvacious slim tees, those wide ponchos...oh, the list of forbidden fashion goes on and on.

During one of these bouts of delusion, I purchased some very pretty harem pants online - you know, just something comfy to wear around the house, instead of jeans. When they arrived, I pulled them on, reveling in their elastic waist, capacious legs, and overall elegant design. My bliss lasted about half an hour, when Brian walked into the kitchen. Seeing me sporting my newest fashion purchase, he asked, "What is THAT?"

"Harem pants," I said. "Aren't they fun?"

And m…


Disorganized people shouldn't sponsor giveaways, I'm thinking. Luckily, someone commented yesterday and mentioned it, at which point I thought, "Oh, yes! I'm doing that!" So I pulled out the trusty random-number generator and it gave me a 5. That means that Common Household Mom has won my copy of Wild, so if she will just email me her address, I can send it her way.

In other news, Larry managed to fix our dryer (again), so we have averted any marriage-threatening appliance decisions, at least for the foreseeable future. Whew! And, yes, Larry's becoming downright handy in his middle age. That's what homeowning will do to you eventually, I guess.

I didn't blog last week, because I was supposed to be doing our taxes. I didn't do those either, actually. I did get some knitting done, however, so while Anna might not be able to file a FAFSA, she'll have some wonderful fingerless mitts to wear while she begs for college money on the street.


Dare To (Let Your Spouse) Repair

Looks as though I am further behind on book giveaways than I thought: I just stumbled across 2 of the books I read last summer during our vacation. Oh, well, better late than never, right?

The first book I read while reclining in our thankfully stinkbug-free camper was Wild, by Cheryl Strayed. Now, I am not even sure why I read this particular book in the first place, as I had spent at least a year assuming the author was just another self-absorbed twenty-something who had nothing better to do than waste her time wandering around some hiking trails out West. Making snap judgments about reading material might not be a good idea, however, because it turns out that Strayed had a really good story to tell and was fairly self-deprecating in the process. Also? Good writing.

So, yeah, DON'T judge a book by its cover. Kudos to me for just figuring that out at the age of 52. If there is anyone left who hasn't read this book, comment on this post and I'll pick someone (randomly) on…

Any Favorites?

Well, it's that time of year again - you know, when I ask for help figuring out what subject to use for my Listen To Your Mother audition. Last year it was Rachel's reign of terror, with the decapitated stuffed animals and the toilet-stuffing and all that, and really, that piece came out great, but I am not sure whether I am allowed to use it again or I should maybe cobble together something from all my posts concerning regurgitation. It could be a sort of vomit retrospective, with an emphasis on the advisability of puking in place and the nightmare that is a top bunk covered in your formerly adorable child's dinner.

Vomit is pretty much my muse, really.

You know, it is so much fun crafting these essays and reading them out loud, I don't think I will even care much if I am passed over once again. Last year I lost to a GUY, for heaven's sake, and to several women who had actually meaningful stories to tell. And, yes, I am jealous, not because I wasn't chosen bu…

Time Travel

"I need a new alarm clock," Brian told me today.

"Why? You HAVE one," I said, still smarting from a $1200 car repair bill for our 12-year-old minivan.

"Yes, but I can't set the alarm," Brian said. "I push the hour button and nothing happens."

"Darn it, these clocks always break!" I ranted. "I can't even TELL you how many times I've spent 10 or even 15 dollars on these things, and they never last! I mean, what's the point of even trying another one?"

"MOM," my preternaturally patient teen said, "maybe if you bought one that costs MORE than $15, it might work?"

You know, the kid might have a point. I mean, I keep forgetting it isn't 1988 anymore.  So we went on Amazon and spent a whopping $23 on an alarm clock.

And it better work, or no one in this house is ever getting a new clock again.