Friday, June 3, 2011

So a girl walks into a lunch place . . .

. . . and sits down to enjoy her first solitary meal in a year.

Yep, that's me. I'll be in Salt Lake in a couple of weeks, sans children, and I'm looking for some recommendations.

1. My bra store closed. I am in need. Is there a good one there? (And by a good one, I do not mean Victoria's Secret. Nor do I mean anything "adult". I need useful, practical bras for the . . . shall we say, buxom consumer.)

2. Where should we eat? (Warning: admitted food snob. Not even trying to recover.)

3. Should you happen to be in the area of where I will be enjoying my solitary meal on Friday in a few weeks, I would not mind sharing my table with you. (Purposefully cryptic. You understand. Wouldn't want my thousands of Utahn stalkers to go on high alert.) E-mail me if you're interested.


post signature

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

The blahs

1. I received an e-mail the other day with this ubiquitous stamp at the bottom: "Sent from my iPhone 4"

It isn't enough that you have an iPhone and I don't -- you have to throw in the "4" just to rub it in. I got an iPad for Mother's Day, and I hate to use it for e-mail because I haven't figured out yet how to turn off that little statement, with all of it's implications: I didn't want to say anything, but you should know that now I am more super awesome than you are. And also I probably have more money. Or at least I did before I dropped a bundle on this gadget. Neener, neener!

2. If I received a terminal diagnosis tomorrow, here is where I would go for my drop dead trip:

Redwoods in the Mist
Redwoods in the Mist. Photo found here.

The giant trees are calling to me, people. I don't know what it is about these trees, but I could conjure up a good cry just looking at pictures. Every time I sit down at the computer to work on something, somehow I end up scrolling through images of Redwood National Park. I know, this gives me more in common with Kate Gosselin than I would ordinarily admit to, but the draw is undeniable.

There's an old growth forest further west, way up in the mountains here, called Joyce Kilmer Memorial Forest -- one of the largest tracts of untouched hardwoods east of the Mississippi. I've been, and it's awe-inspiring: some of the oldest trees are over 400 years old. I was no less tearful there, but I still want to see the giants.

3. Here is what happened in at our house yesterday: Craig had an MRI (not, actually, in our house) on his right knee (most likely a torn meniscus, surgery pending), which he injured a mere fraction of a second after breaking his left foot in a thoroughly un-macho way; Mason was diagnosed with Mononucleosis pending the virus titer results we'll have in another day or so (HOW does a 4-year-old get mono?!?); I decided since he really is sick I'll stop being so hard on him about the whining, but heaven help me if he's going to whine like this for the next month; Laney puked all over the neighbor's swingset and then had diarrhea in her vomit bathwater; Garrett was stung by a hornet, giving me a great opportunity to whip out my package of chewing tobacco; my eyes glazed over and Craig had to hit the reset button when he got home from work; and the hero also brought dinner. (This is why my sister stopped wallowing: my day was WAAAAAY worse than hers.)

4. I won a dress from Shabby Apple. All I did to enter was give some money to Rising Star Outreach on behalf of Karl Marx, the little boy sponsored by MommySnark. My sister, Jenny (who is also Mommy Snark) sponsored the giveaway, and she told me that once the winner was determined, and it was me, just for kicks, she tried the random number generator again. It was still me. Eight times in a row. So it's karma. Yay for a new dress!

5. But booh to the blahs. And writer's block, from which I am suffering something fierce. I think it's because my brain is being slowly liquefied from overexposure to bodily secretions not my own. That's right, childless people! How's that for birth control?

6. I just read this to my husband, and he said, "It's great. It doesn't have to be a work of art every time you post." (What? This amazingly fantastical post is not a work of art?!? How dare he?!?) Except it does, or so I've led myself to believe. And apparently, I'm incapable lately. (Kim, please ignore all the sentence fragments, and the egregious run-on.) Oh, well. Aaaaaannnd . . . Publish!

post signature