99 Problems and a B**** Ain’t One

She reared her ugly head today. When I say ugly, I mean bushy, bed-head hair, left over mascara and still-in-her-pj’s kind of ugly.  The “she” is me, Grumpy Mom.  Grumpy is actually too nice of a term but  when I was orginally going to post this on momwithapen.com, I thought I should PG it up a bit.

I’ll just call her by her true name, Bitchy Mom.  I hate Bitchy Mom.  Why can’t I just stay Fun Mom all the time?  The one that is dancing with her four year old and delighting at her imaginative moves.  No, instead Bitchy Mom does what she always does, drops in unannounced sending everyone, cats included, scurrying for cover.  Maybe there is a way to pull in the welcome mat really quick….if you find it, let me know.

This time Bitchy Mom popped in after a particularly maddening argument with the four year old over the drying methods of a foamy mattress topper.  Yes, you did read that correctly.  She (4 yr old drying  expert extraordinaire) did not approve of my method of draping it over a couple of chairs as opposed to it lying in a heap on some towels.  She proclaimed, “This is not a good idea.”

That statement alone was not enough to invite Bitchy Mom.  It was the repeated proclamations and requests to put it back punctuated by the falling on the floor, mom-is-so-cruel, tantrum that was finally thrown down like a pair of gloves in a hockey match.  ”Put it baaaack!  Not a goood ideee-aaa!”

You know what is not a good idea, kid?  Questioning my experience on such matters.  Especially when I’m the one who keeps you in apple slices and Goldfish crackers.

Yep, Bitchy Mom has arrived.  She is snippy, snappy and snarly.  Although, she looks vaguely familiar somehow I picture her looking rather comfortable with a cigarette dangling from her lips and a bottle of vodka in one hand.  Why I have assigned Bitchy Mom a look that resembles a cross between my late Grandma, Cruella Deville and Madame Medusa, is beyond me but that’s probably another blog in itself.

Usually Bitchy Mom’s stay is short lived.  Her presence sends even me into cringe mode.  I hear that voice, you know the one..sharp pitched, strained, nails on chalkboard voice….reminds you of something…..someone……*gasp!*…..your own mother.  I send the harpy (my alter ego, not my mom) packing after a bout of deep breathing and pummeling myself with guilt.  Apologies make their rounds.  Appointments made to erase the furrow that just got deeper in my forehead.  All is well in the world again.

Fast forward to the next morning.  I peek out onto the balcony to greet the sun and a new day and there it is….. a hole.  The foamy mattress topper now has a hole in it from the back of one of the chairs. *sigh*

My know-it-all-mini-me little stinker was right.  It wasn’t a good idea.

Beginnings

I think I did very well in the interview.  I hate being nervous…. I used to be able to contain it better.  Since I have been so out of the loop, I have to work on keeping it at a minimum.  That is what rejection does to you.  It chips away the lovely veneer so carefully applied over the years.  In my mind, instead of a polished put-together woman I see all the peeling paint and duct tape fixes.  Don’t even mention the hair.  I shellacked it into submission.   I chose to wear it up and away from my face.  It wasn’t cooperating very well but I passed that point of no return and had to go with it.

I was on my best behavior, did not scratch nor mention the rat bite, kept fidgeting to a minimum and tried to provide thoughtful and well-spoken answers.  It appeared that we had good rapport.  I left with a smile and high hopes.

I remember riding horses as a kid.  We had one horse that was what you could call…. spirited.  His name was Dino.  He was a magnificent horse with energy to burn and needed a steady hand at the rein.  He could run…he loved to run.  Sometimes, he would burst out into a full on run with no warning, leaving the rider to hold on for dear life while trying to restrain him.  Being on a horse that’s tearing its way through the desert and jumping over bushes is a rush of exhilaration mixed with a pinch of terrifying.  Sometimes, the thrill was interrupted by the jolt of a sandy, unplanned meeting with terra firma.

My triumphant feeling of getting through the job interview with hope intact was quickly diminished with a phone call.  You know when you get those phone calls and you just know that it is unwelcome news?  It took a ring tone and a few words to yank me off the horse and hit the ground with a thud.

My Grandfather, Lawrence Isaac Sr.,  passed away yesterday afternoon.  Upon hearing, I was filled with a combination of sadness and relief.  He lived a very long life.  I could be mistaken but I think him to be around 99.  His mind was drifting through haze of dementia in the last few years.  His body was becoming frail.

My fondest memories of Grandpa are from my childhood.  He always greeted us with a smile.  He used to call us sah-nee (phonetic spelling), the meaning of which, I don’t remember.  I do, however, remember his voice.  He spoke English very well and when speaking Navajo, was hypnotizing.  He liked to tease us, as well.  I remember the word squaw being bandied about which would get us giggling and making pronouncements on the “yuckiness” of boys.

One memory, in particular, stands out.  I was still quite young, maybe 6.  They had just finished constructing a new hogan for Grandma.  They hadn’t moved anything in it yet so it was just the logs and the packed dirt floor.  The grandkids were all going to have a sleepover in it.  We excitedly dragged our sleeping bags in and arranged them.  We asked Grandpa to come over and tell us some stories before we went to sleep.  There we were laying on our sleeping bags as darkness fell.  The intoxicating smell of fresh juniper, sage and earth filling the hogan.  Grandpa sitting in front of us in the glow of a lantern….shadows dancing along the logs…crickets chirping outside.  We were mesmerized as he told us tales of skinwalkers and old legends.  We were also completely petrified in our zipped-to-the-top sleeping bags wondering what was lurking beyond the doorway.  Knowing Grandpa, I’m sure he had a chuckle as he was leaving us for the night.  At some point, I was lulled to sleep by the comforting sound of his voice before he even finished his tales.

I became motivated not too long ago to organize a family reunion this summer.  Our family doesn’t really do those type of things.  However, as we are all scattering to the wind, I feel the importance of recognizing where we came from and getting to know strangers who are family.  I wanted to honor the memory of Frances and now, Lawrence Sr.  They worked hard and persevered through the triumphs and tragedies of lives long-lived.  As with most families, perfection is absent.  My hope is that we can take the positives and build on them and learn from our failures.  In other words, after falling off the horse, we dust ourselves off and get back in the saddle a little bruised but wiser.

After all, it started with a driven young man named Lawrence who married a strong, beautiful woman named Frances.  They started out with hopes and dreams never imagining how far the journey would take them and what blessings they would be given.

Grandma, Grandpa, I hope we make you proud.  I love you and miss you.

Bargain Beauty

Did you know that March 8th was International Women’s Day?  Yes, even my spell checker doesn’t believe me.  It is a day set aside to celebrate the achievement of women past, present and future.  Yeah, I didn’t get the memo.  I spent it at home, doing laundry and taking care of my children.  I’m pretty sure I didn’t have shoes on for most of the day either.

I spent a good part of the morning pondering a Groupon for discount Botox.  How’s that for modern woman hear me roar?  You would’ve been curious as well.  It was only $99.00!  That could be such a bargain….also such a disaster.  What if it is only enough for one eyebrow.  Maybe they get you in there and then do the bait and switch.

“Well, Mrs. Surly Mom, this is going to be a spectacular result over your left eye.  If you want to be balanced though, hand over another four hundred clams!”

Yes, in my mind the discount botox doctor has a vague gangstorial accent and never uses the word “dollars.”  The words dough, moolah and semolians are always at the ready.

That leads me to another thought.  Just how quality is this $99 Botox?  Is it really Botox or upon closer inspection does the box say Botax?  Will I wake up not able to move my eyebrows because my whole forehead is swollen to the proportions of a Neanderthal?

In case you haven’t guessed….I himmed and hawed until the Groupon expired.  If I do go down that road, I’ll suck it up and pay full price.  You know if I am willing to pay full price then I have really made up my mind.

As much as the little crows feet are annoying and that permanent scowl line between my eyebrows frustrates me….. I don’t know if am okay with the inability to emote fully.

I was watching a trailer for the movie, “Rabbit Hole”, starring Nicole Kidman.  I’ve always thought she is a lovely woman.  However, even in that small snippet, I noticed that her forehead didn’t move.  If you don’t know anything about the movie,  she plays the mother of a small child who has died in an accident.  The movie deals with the aftermath.  Extremely emotional stuff……”ugly cry” territory…yet not even a crease up there.  You think she would’ve put down the needle for this movie for full effect.  She did get an Oscar nomination out of it so she must have done something right. (“Oh..emotionless, ice queen…this part is perfect for me.”)

I detest my crow’s-feet.  The responsible party for their very existence is my smile.  Why didn’t my mother teach me that fake Hollywood smile?  You know the one where you are only using the bottom half of your face?  If I started young, this condition wouldn’t be at situation critical.

Instead, I have that big-whole-face-crinkling-of-the-eyes kind of smile that is detrimental to the thin dermis around my ocular area.  I’ve tried the half-smile for pictures…it is hard to master without looking a bit “Barbie-esque.”  So to avoid plastic…I resort to plastic?  Eh.

Oh well…domestic goddess duties call.  I’ll keep my gargantuan grin and be begrudgingly happy with it, wrinkles and all….for now.  On second thought, a quick stop at my inbox before I get busy.

Hello Groupon!

Sasquatch No More

Is it bad that the only reason I shaved my legs the other day was because I was thinking about getting a pedicure? What does that say about me when I don’t want the guy who does my feet to see a cactus under my pant leg but if my husband sees it……eh?

This is the dreaded time of year when you realize just how much you’ve let yourself go over the winter.  Our body comes out of hibernation much like a bear (and almost as hairy as one).  We shed our layers of clothing and reveal the ugly truth.  A bottom to top assessment…

Toes…. eeep, the nail polish is still on there from my last pedicure in October.

Ankles… well, they were pretty prickly but since I shaved for whatshisface they aren’t so bad…

Knees and thighs…hairy, ’cause it’s not shorts season quite yet.

Bikini area… All I will say is I will be wincing and cursing under my breath at the quick and nimble hands of Anna, waxer/sadist extraordinaire, very soon.

Belly… hmmm, abs meet exercise, exercise meet abs (and sun).

I don’t feel like self-assessing anymore. I’ll turn my critical eye to the yard and its out-of-control bushes.

Why this need to spruce everything up?  Why can’t it be good enough to give the yard a make-over and leave our bodies alone?

The truth is…..much like our yards and house…we do it to impress the neighbors.  Who wants to walk around looking like a short-sale fixer upper?  Do men even think this way?  We have been reduced to caring what our feet will look like in a pair of shoes…so we sand and paint them.  We let a complete stranger see us in a compromising position and then let them rip the hair off of our bodies.

What is sad, is that given how ridiculous it all seems, I will still do it.  I will get that pedicure.  I will go and avoid eye contact with Anna.  What do I get out of it?

Besides a bit of pain….it helps me feel good about myself.  Kind of like a house, if you care about it, you do the maintenance.  Of course, I do let myself go a bit otherwise.  I think my compromise is that in the winter months…I get a break from the upkeep.  Au natural..for the most part.

On the subject of  “natural”, I hear men say all the time that they love a natural woman…I’m calling B.S. on that one.  Just what is their idea of natural?  If they only knew the maintenance involved….

Here is the difference between men and women:

Women’s idea of natural:

Men’s idea of natural:

Women’s idea of natural:

Men’s idea:

Did I make my point, whatever it was?  Does it even matter because right now all the guys are glazed over staring and salivating over Little Miss Swimsuit and all of you women are recoiling in horror at the thought of swimsuit season….

A Moment of Zen

My voice is no longer horse…er hoarse. I finally snapped out of my daze, picked up my heart, stuffed it back into place and gathered my thoughts. Well, gathered them enough to coherently string together a few words on the subject matter.

On Saturday, I witnessed one of the most thrilling yet heartbreaking moments in my history of being a sports fanatic. I have endured the heartbreak before. The Suns losing to the Bulls in the 1993 NBA championships….the Cardinals losing the Super Bowl to the Steelers.

I think what makes some of the losses harder to take is when retirement is looming and you are watching an athlete in the sunset of their career. Andre Agassi, Pete Sampras, Lance Armstrong and Roy Jones Jr…..I wanted to see them all go out with a win. We like our great ones to stay great. That rarely happens.

So was the case on Saturday for Zenyatta, running for twentieth and final time in the Breeders Cup. With a win, she would achieve something very few athletes have ever experienced….perfection.

How could you not root for her? The Guinness swilling horse with the sassy attitude. A mare competing in a field dominated by stallions and coming out the dominatrix. Even better than the fact that she isn’t male, she isn’t man. Her ego will never overshadow or tarnish her accomplishments. I am content in the fact that I will never hear of her being accused multiple times of assault, no headlines of “junky” texts, no ridiculous, self-absorbed press conferences and no diminishing her legacy by acting like an ass when being into inducted into the hall of fame.

Heartbreaking, yes but a loser? Not in any way, shape or form.

Commercial Conundrums

I am assuming that we’ve become a society in which fleeting attention spans are the norm.  Now days, anyone who pauses long enough to actually hear every word uttered and actually processes said words could be considered a stalker or at the very least….old?  What has brought me to this conclusion?  The fact that television ads are becoming less informative and more…WTH? (or for all you oldies out there let’s say, head scratching.)  Please don’t feel bad if I just called you old because I would fall in to that category as well if you were to randomly ask a sampling of 5-19 year olds.  Apparently 30 is not the new 20, it’s retirement age as far as anyone younger than  two decades is concerned.

With our ancientness in mind, I will give the first example of quizzical commercials….

There is a certain motor oil company that has been using a certain song to promote its new product.

*Okay, now anyone under thirty is going to be completely confused over my next scribblings but I would venture to guess that there is no one under thirty reading this.

So when you hear this particular song, what popped into your head? I would imagine it was something like this:

Well, they might be on to something but what does Phoebe Cates have to do with motor oil?

I don’t even know where to start with this next commercial.

Umm, yeah…. It’s bad enough they are called Sideshots but did they really need the pulling apart of the “buns” shot? I think in another “industry” that is called the money shot. Kinda of makes you want to take a shower and scrub your eyeballs with a brillo pad, no?

I guess the Hot Pockets people just wanted to give the Shake Weight people a run for their money.

Filthy Fun

One of my favorite things to do lately is peruse Craigslist…………for furniture.  I have a weakness for mid-century modern and am always on the lookout for a bargain or a diamond in the rough.

My quest to suss out a wooden wonder can be quite taxing.  Some posters are unaware of the origins of the piece they are selling so I must keep the search parameters broad.  An “Old End Table” could, in fact, be a vintage solid wood collectible.  This leads to the unexciting part of the hunt, reading over mountains of mundane Craigslist ads.

Every now and again though, there is a post that raises an eyebrow or warrants a WTF?

I try to keep my word snobbery at a minimum and cut people some slack.  Afterall, it is CL and not the New York Times.  I must say, though, there are an awful lot of “dinning” sets out there.

Mar 1 – MODERN BRUSHED IRON SILVER GREY LIVING DINNING TABLE LAMPS / LIGHT SET - $40 (****) pic img

Mar 1 – **BEAUTIFUL DINNING SET** - (****) img

Mar 1 – Dinning table & Chairs - $79 (*******) pic

Mar 1 – Dinning Room Table w/leaf, OAK - $350 (******)

 “Amoir,” Amoire…to-may-to, to-mah-to

 Feb 28 – TV Armoir - $200 (*****) pic

Feb 28 – Beautiful Oak Armoir - $250 (******) pic

Feb 28 – Tv Armoir - $150 (******) pic

Feb 28 – Armoir and chest of drawers - $400 (****)

Maybe the 28th was just a bad spelling day.  I love coming across the “deal” of a lifetime, such as:

 You Will Not Believe This Deal – $30 (***** )

---

Date: 2010-03-01, 2:28PM MST
Reply to: xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx ^{[Errors when replying to ads?]}

 

Partial section of a one year old sectional. We moved and had to sacrifice the other pieces. so here you have it the end piece plus the ottoman for a mere $30.00. The color is light mixture of browns, greens and light blue. We will even throw in the two pillows that give it some contrast. This would be great for a small apartment, or even a mobile home. so do not miss this deal. Reply to this posting and lets see who wins. thank you

 

 

Wow, the end piece of a sectional?  Maybe next I’ll find a dresser with no drawers, lucky me.  I especially like the “lets see who wins” part.  What kind of incredible feats would one have to do to ”win” that prize?  Kind of reminds me of this:

Speaking of classy……

Very classy 3 piece solid wood BOOKCASE 2 matching – $1100 (******)

---

Date: 2010-02-13, 8:53AM MST
Reply to: xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

$1100 EACH
I PAYED OVER $1700 EACH FOR THESE AT RASMATAZ
I have 2 very classy solid wood book cases.
They are very heavy and well built
3 seprate pieces with wood shelves on the side pieces and wood with glass in-lay on the center piece
The center piece is 3 feet wide and 7 feet tall and all together they are 7 feet wide
Look at the pictures this is not cheap furniture
I bought these about 8 months ago to display hair products at our salon
The salon is closed down and these have to go I am asking $1100 EACH for them
THEY ARE IN EXCELENT CONDITION VERY MUCH LIKE BRAND NEW

 

You know, I don’t necessarily associate Craigslist and classy (unless you are in the personals section) but somehow, he makes it work, no?  No.  He would have gotten away with it if it weren’t for those meddling typos.  All spelling snobbery aside,  I’ve always said, money can buy class.  To prove my point:

Before money:

After money:

Right?  Well, if not class..more self-tanner.

I like how people use certain terms to describe their offerings in an attempt to polish the proverbial turd.

According to the seller these are:

“Rustic” end tables

“Distressed Leather” Sofa

“Beautiful” torche lamp

Yes, they did post a sideways picture and dont even get me started on “torche.”

Pictures….gotta love the pictures.  Blurry pictures, sideway pictures, too dark pictures….at least they are trying.  I am amused however, at the people who go through the trouble of taking and uploading a picture but can’t even clean off the item in question:

On the subject of cleaning things off….. The most fascinating and somewhat stomach turning thing that I have stumbled upon:

Liberator – Scoop – Black Label – $100 (****) 

^{[Errors when replying to ads?]}

This Scoop is like new and only used once. Super soft!! This unit retails for $245.00. The great thing about these Liberator products is that they are machine washable and can be hung up to dry. They are completely clean. They come with all the original packaging and Cuff Kit for Black Label Scoop -$40.00 value.
Please go to the Liberator website for a complete description and care instructions:This item was bought at Fascinations.

• Location: ***********
• it’s NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

This is a smoke free home.

Thanks for looking!

*********************LOCAL PICK-UP ONLY*********************

---

---

I like how they say it has been used only once…….as if that is a great selling point.  For this item, one time is one too many, my friend.  (If you are confused….google Liberator.)

I expect that a piece of furniture off of CL might be filthy but not that filthy. 

Happy Craigslisting!

That’s Not my Slip, It’s my Geek

I believe that the best invention of the last fifty years is hands-down, the iPod.  I could never imagine walking around as a kid, with that bulky cassette player clipped to my pants that someday I would be able hold thousands of songs in my pocket.  In fact, in the eighties, they took it the opposite direction and some people thought carrying around a boombox the size of a suitcase was the way to go.  No thank you.  I like my music loud but not backache inducing. 

My iPod has since given way to my iPhone.  I really can’t express how much I love my iPhone.  Music, pictures, apps, internet……..oh and the phone feature.  I laugh every time a new “iPhone killer” is announced.  Killer, shmiller….they are all just playing catch up. 

I will admit I am Apple biased.  Ever since tapping away on the Aplle IIe at Mrs. Mack’s gifted class, I have been a fan.  Of course, at that time a computer in our family was dream that my parents didn’t share.  I used to pick my cereal based on the type of prize you could win…. computer, Atari.  I wonder if my mom ever wondered why there was so much uneaten cereal in the pantry? 

I remained computerless for many years.  My dalliances with Apple were limited to using my sister’s Macintosh (remember the ones with the monitor and drive all in one?) or using the Macs in the college computer labs.  I eventually became the owner of a Mac and subsequently a Macbook for a while.  I once again yearn for a shiny new Macbook Pro or Mac Pro….oh the things we could do together. 

It will happen.  Until then, I will be happy with my wonderful pocket-sized wonder of a gadget…. I think.  I am eagerly awaiting the “big” announcement today to see what fantastic new device Apple is unveiling today.  Word on Nerd Street is that it is a tablet.  That might be right up my alley since I was thinking about buying a netbook.  Should I be embarrassed that I’m so excited about this?  Oh well, iSnob, therefore iAm.

The Good and the Bad of It

If you recall, last year, a scandal erupted that resulted in husbands and wives knowing what the other was talking about for a few brief moments….and no I’m not talking Tiger.  I’m speaking of Erin Andrews.  ESPN meet Oprah, Oprah..ESPN. 

Erin, an ESPN sportscaster was devastated when videos showing her nude popped up on the internet.  She had been surreptitiously videotaped while she was dressing/undressing in her hotel rooms.  When the story broke, I’m sure there was a momentary disruption in the earth’s rotation as men rushed to their computers to ogle.  I’m sure none of my readers would do such a thing because they are all *ahem* gentlemen…right?

I, the surly one,  have been voyeurized without my knowledge.  I didn’t know about this until years after the fact so it wasn’t earth shattering.  If I had found out at the time, I’m sure my reaction would be different.  I was in high school.  Revenge is at its most pure and potent when served by a teenage girl, no?  Alas, I was none the wiser so the pervs got a free pass.  They really should thank their lucky stars…

When I heard about the Andrews incident, I momentarily felt her pain and commiserated.  To be honest, I had to try a little harder to truly feel more than a smattering of compassion.  Why?  I’m not sure.  Maybe in this day and age of socialite sex tapes and teen texting scandals, I have become jaded.  Maybe I was bothered by how her statements sounded so victim-ish.  I don’t know….but I still tried to put myself in her shoes and imagine how that would feel.  I’m getting ready to settle down for the night…. all alone in my hotel room.  Then this thought pops into my head….”just what is she doing in the video?” 

Remember that Seinfeld show in which Jerry is dating the nudist?  They go through the explanation of ”good naked” and “bad naked.”  Hairbrushing, good.  Opening pickle jars, bad.

With my luck, I would be videotaped and it would all be “bad naked.”  You know, clipping my toe nails….. undressing but leaving the socks on………..imagining my 20′s body in the mirror complete with, “this is where they used to be.”  God forbid I slump down on the bed and someone be witness to the crinkled, wrinkled post-baby belly.  Better yet, I would probably end up banging my shin or stubbing my toe leading to a video more suited for YouTube than a porn site.  Yep, it would be very few moments of “good naked” punctuated by an exorbitant amount of “bad naked.” 

Believe me, I know naked.  I am exposed to a Nude-a-palooza in the form of a toddler tornado on a regular basis.  Yes, in this household there is a lot of naked going on.  It ranges from cute naked….”ah little baby butt…hah, hah” to the Oh-the-tales-I-will-tell kind of naked….”ohhhhhh…gees..put your panty back on!  Don’t sit on my pillow!  Eww…..Get over here…over….here…get back here!!”   

I feel that not enough people, men in particular, have the ability to distinguish between “good naked” and “bad naked.”  They seem to go by the credo that “All naked is good naked!”  They couldn’t be further from the truth.  So my friends, today will be a quick lesson in “good naked” and “bad naked” (or nekkid, if you hail from the south).

First off, part of distinguishing the good from the bad has as much to do with your surroundings as well as what you are or aren’t wearing (ie. socks).  No matter how sexy the girl, if she is sitting in a dumpster…well….you get the idea.

Good Naked:

Bad Naked:

Next up, your activity whilst nude helps determine good or bad.  I must say that anything that would make you break a sweat while clothed is pretty much off-limits.  Not to mention anything that brings up the question of, “Is this sanitary?”

Bad Naked:

Good Naked:

Whatever you do, this is never a good idea…..

 

I now send you off into the world with your new found knowledge.  Put your eyeballs back in your head no matter how much they hurt.  Speaking of peepers….for those with Tom-ish leanings remember, it is better to preserve the mystery because the reality could be mentally scarring.  Then again, you get what you deserve.

Happy New Year?

Yes, we’ve all seen this:

In fact, there are a whole slew of videos on YouTube dedicated to the follies of female drivers.  It is irksome, to say the least.  To further squeeze lemon juice onto the papercut,  I ran across this little snippet of information the other day,

Female Scientist Confirms Men Are Better At Parking Than Women.

Yes, you read correctly.  At least I know that I got to that parking space sooner because I can ask directions and/or read a map.  Bitter, you say?  Well, yes.  I take great offense to that because I have always been quite adept at parking.  I parallel parked like a pro on my first attempt when I took my driving test.  I drive a behemoth Suburban which I deftly squeeze into parking spots all the time to the great discomfort of my co-pilots.  I always hear the drawing in of breath when I’m inching closer to the bumper in front of me.  “I got it…I got it.. (big grin)!” 

A smidgen of a sidetrack now.  Suburban…. What is with that name?  It is anything but.  Have you tried navigating that ungainly beast through a city?  It is large and imposing not only to compact parking spots but anyone within a car’s length on the freeway.  It should have a name that evokes its lack of sophistication………….Redneck, Backwoods?  I was recently interviewing for a job that would require driving my own vehicle here and there on a regular basis.  The guy interviewing me asked if I was comfortable driving the Suburban throughout the city.  Maybe it was my look of sheer “you’ve got to be ****ing kidding me…” that didn’t seal the deal.  Maybe I should’ve strapped him to my front bumper, found the nearest mall parking lot and demonstrated my parking prowess.  Think that would’ve gotten me the job?

A new year.  Ahhhhh, so shiny and brimming with promise.  Speaking of promises…. I have made a few to myself.  Not so much resolutions but an effort to make it a great year and hopefully make myself a better human.  Yes, yes…I know, I’m already so wonderful but every gem needs a polish now and then, right?  (On the subject of polishing things.  If you are a fan of Mythbusters, you will know that it is possible to polish a turd.)

I, of course will be keeping track of my journey blogstyle.  I have a new self-improvement blog that I will be kicking off later this week.  I will continue this blog as well as a photoblog and contributing to another mommy blog site that is in the works.  Basically, since I have aspirations of writing and photography I need to be doing both on a regular basis.  Makes sense, eh?

So maybe my Oprah-esque desires for world domination will come to pass.   Of course, Oprah finishes her Favorite Things segments…..