Thirty Political Birthdays

Well!  Nice of me to stop by…..on my…….own…….blog.

A few things on my mind that I’d just like to go ahead and get out there:

I keep reading about this potential government shut down.  As in OUR government would be non-existent for an indeterminable amount of time unless our friendly neighborhood politicians can come to an agreement about our budget.  And I use the word “budget” lightly.  To me, a “budget” means you determine that you have x coming in and y going out.  You must have at least x to commit yourself to y.  Yet somehow we (the Land Of The Free) have a $14.2 trillion debt.  Now I could be wrong, but it looks to me like somebody EFFED UP THE BUDGET.  So I’d rather think of it in terms of our friendly neighborhood politicians REELING IN THEIR POINTY FINGERS AND COMING UP WITH A PLAN, STAN.

Let me clarify that me and politics go together like vanilla frosting and sardines.  I see politics as the number one most perfect way to start an argument.  However, I entitle myself to one political rant per year.  This is it, folks.

I read this CNN article today by NPR commentator Ruben Navarrette, Jr. that SPOKE TO ME, Y’all.  A few excerpts:

There are two kinds of people in the world: those who recognize that they have to live within their means, and those who don’t know what the heck that means. Many Americans fall into the second camp. So it’s no wonder that many of us don’t hold our elected officials accountable for their spending sprees and avoidance of debt. We see such behavior as normal.

President Obama and Democrats in Congress [would] just as soon leave the slings and arrows to someone else.

That’s what passes for leadership in Washington these days, not making progress on tough issues but making your team look good and the other look bad.

You see it in the talk of a government shutdown. Both sides claim not to want it to happen, but neither side is doing much to prevent it. Instead, all their energies are spent in trying to convince voters that they’re not to blame for it.

Here’s the real reason that professional politicians should do whatever they can to avoid a shutdown: After a few days of living without government, many Americans might just decide they don’t really miss it and could live with a lot less of it.

AMEN, BROTHA!

So.  That’s all I have to say about that.  (But I say it with smoke coming out my ears and a VERY STERN look on my face.) (VERY STERN!)

*******************************

My babies had birthdays!  (I should get an award for that fine segue right there.)

Madelynn turned sixteen two on March 12th.  Meredith turned sixteen four on March 22nd.  We had an intimate little dinner at home, just their daddy and me and the birthday girls.  I made them a Cat In The Hat cake upon very specific request and we showered them with piddly little gifts that only a 2 and 4 year old could appreciate.  I can’t stand that they’re growing.  I want them to stay babies forever and ever amen.  Cuz pretty soon they’ll be long and lean and will be labeled “kids” and not “babies” or “toddlers” and I’ll have baby fever and I’ll look longingly at Chris and say, “Honey, I think………maybe…….I want….another…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………cat.”

********************************

I’VE LOST THIRTY POUNDS!  GO AHEAD AND TELL ME “WAY TO GO” IN THE COMMENTS SECTION! (Ya know, if you want to.)

(You totally want to.)

(You’d be a rockstar if you did.)

********************************

And finally, an announcement.  In 11 days, I will be 29 years old.  That’s TWENTY-NINE years old.  Which, for those of you with only 10 fingers and 10 toes, means I am 376 days shy of 30.  THIRTY.

So, for all intents and purposes, this will be my last birthday.  Next year I will be 29, once removed.  SO.  If you’re wanting to get me a totally rockin’ birthday gift, THIS IS YOUR YEAR!!!!!!!!

AMEN!

Advertisements

Flabberty Pajama Burrito

“It is a curious fact that people are never so trivial as when they take themselves seriously.” ~ Oscar Wilde

Some recent text conversations:

Scene:  Jen, my Sister From Another Mister, and I are laying in bed (separate beds at our separate houses) watching The Batchelor together.

Me:  HE TOTALLY WANTS EMILY!!!!

Jen:  I told u!!!!!

Me:  And he’s acting all energetic and cheery with this girl to try to make it look like he’s being romantic.  You can tell he feels awkwardly about it.

Jen:  He adores her, but I think she’s going home.

Me:  What’s up with her brows?

Jen:  Haven’t notice but I will check it out now.

Me:  They’re very…………….drawn.  They look so penciled on that you can totally picture her without them.

Me:  Like, with a big, naked forehead.

Jen:  She’s got great legs though!!!!!!!

Me:  Smokin hot legs, yes.

Jen:  He’ll give her the key to the room too.

Me:  Womanizah

Jen:  Fo sho

 ***

Scene:  Chris is home early while I’m still at the office.

Chris:  I cleaned all the blinds, washed the bedding, dusted, scrubbed the dog slobber and KoolAid off the walls, laid down dog powder and vacuumed, and put all my clothes away (lol), and all I have left is to clean the kitchen.  What do you want for dinner?

Me:  You are most definitely getting laid tonight.

 ***

Scene:  Ali (My BFF forever) is laid up in a DC-area hospital in the midst of her umpteenth million bout with Pancreatitis.

Ali:  too much drugs, nothing to eat or drink xcpt ice and not enough sleep = Ali with bad spelling Bd words that might mean something

Ali:  I’m so over exhausted.  I can barely finish typing a sentace without falling asleep and them waking up with a test message that looks like thismmmmmmmmbbjki

Me:   Hahahahahaha!!!!!!  Ali on drugs is funny!

Ali:  I can’t sleep Noe thats why thus I’d nuts!  Gotta wiat for nurse to give me my Meds si I donu puke on other pioplr and iV machine is beep beep and about to get thrown throgh the window!

Me:  Effing nurses!

Me:  Flabberty pajama burrito

Ali:  burrito

Me:  Just makin’ sure you’re paying attention.

***

My life is a comedy and I love it.  Fo sho.

The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

*sigh*

I have monthly meetings, for which I am a mediator, team lead, whatever-you-want-to-call-it-just-make-it-sound-good.  These meetings start promptly at 9:00 am.  Yesterday was our February meeting.  The venue was 2 1/2 hours away.  I didn’t get on the road until 6:40 thanks to my poor planning and the inability to locate the appropriate hairbow.  No, not this hairbow.  That one.  Also, where in the hell is her Valentine’s Day gift bag that she must sleep with, bathe with, travel with, pee with?  Oh, right.  I HID IT FROM HER.  In the depths of I DON’T KNOW WHERE BECAUSE I APPARENTLY HID IT FROM MYSELF TOO.  So.  6:40.  On the road.  9:00 am meeting.  2 1/2 hours away.  You see where this is going?

After 45 minutes I happened upon a truck.  Oh, but not just any truck.  A truck carrying what I can only assume was 4000 tons of something.  Some sort of something that only allowed it to go 35 mph.  Cement encased slate rocks, probably.  Or school children.  Whichever.  And oh ho ho, wouldn’t you know that I was about 15 cars back in the trailing line and the passing zones were few and far between?  With oncoming cars that happily and nonchalantly mosied past at just the exact moments that the road lines went from solid to dotted?  OF COURSE.  Know why?  Because they were ON TIME.

THEN.  Both MapQuest and Bing Navigation tell me to get off on 49 South.  Know which exit I took?  49 BUSINESS.  See where this is going?

Now, to my husband’s profound dismay, I am one of those people who calculate exactly how far they can go on a single tank of gas.  I won’t so much as think about stopping for a refill until my car is practically throwing a flashing neon “E” at my face.  Needless to say, I didn’t calculate getting lost into the morning commute equation.  So.  Add 5 minutes for an impromptu gas purchase.

By the time I got back in my car, the meeting venue had called to be sure I was ok and not stranded or embedded in a guard rail or something.  My employer had called because the meeting venue had called them to make sure I was ok and not stranded or embedded in a guard rail or something.  This is where I started to get just a slight little smidgen of anxiety because I still had 10 minutes to go and I was already 20 minutes late and MY GOD WHO PUT ME IN CHARGE OF THIS SHIT?!

Approximately 2.37 minutes later I was watching a State Trooper approach my car with his hand sternly placed on his gun just in case.  Of what, I dunno.  Maybe in case I fall into a zillion pieces of anxiety-plagued weepy tears?  So he could just PUT ME OUT OF MY MISERY ALREADY?  Also, he looked like he was 12.  What happened to RESPECTING YOUR ELDERS, SON?!  Hmmm?

The verdict:    70 in a 55.  Have a nice day, Ma’am.

I gave the eff up.  I mosied to my meeting about as fast as that stupid truck of cement encased school children.  When I finally got there, 35 MINUTES LATE, they were all “Oh, don’t worry about it!  We were just catching up, enjoying our coffee, doing JUST FINE WITHOUT YOU.”  Well.  HOW NICE.

*sigh*

Responsibiliwha?

So 2011 is looking to be a pretty good year, so far.  I mean I know we’re only, like, 9.6% of the way through it but I’ll take 9.6% of good, especially if it’s at the beginning because that just HAS to mean that the other 90.4% won’t be all that bad, right? 

I mean, there was that brief period of panicked uncertainty when our W-2s didn’t make it to our mailbox by January 25th like they have every other year for the last decade.  But then I was cheerfully reminded that the law gives them until the 31st to have them postmarked.  So Really, it could be the first week of February before we get them.  Lovely.

FTR, they came on the 31st at 11:30 and I had our taxes submitted by 3:00.  Government sendz me moneyz, for the win.

(Although, is it just me, or does everybody see that gross earnings number and think that Uncle Sam had to have added a few grand to that, cuz there’s just no way.  Conspiracy!)  (And then you remember the Coach bag purchase, the new car, the gymnastics classes and the fact that you pay more monthly fees for daycare than you do for your house and you’re all YEAH I GUESS THAT’S ABOUT RIGHT.  Fuckers.)

The thing is, analyzing our financial statements and having our tax preparation software ask me random questions about our life events has made me think.  Why is it that you spend your whole teenage life of cooked meals, laundry service and chauffeured car rides wishing for freedom?  Your own house, your own car, your own life.  And then it happens, only to have you realize that you have responsibilities and bills and then you have children which means more responsibilities, more bills and, OH!  LIVES that depend on YOU to SUSTAIN THEM. 

PARENTS SHOULD TELL YOU THIS SHIT.

Oh, wait.

All this is to say that I wish I could win the lottery, open my own cake shoppe and hire someone to pay my bills for me so that I can live in my little fantasy world where the clouds are made of buttercream, the streets are paved in fondant and money can be printed on edible paper.

And daycare is free.  And run by the local Bouncy House.  Where the children expel every ounce of energy so all they want to do when they get home is eat a sensible dinner that includes vegetables (that they will devour because that’s just what children do), watch the evening news cuddled on Mama’s lap, then retire to bed at 7:00 with a good book and their inside voices.

 Anyway, we’re taking a break from these responsibilities and  going to the circus on Sunday.  This will be a first for my girls, though Chris and I have enjoyed the circus together in the past, just the two of us.  I’m excited about it. 

One word:  REVENUE.

Haha!  Just kidding!  Haha!  Ha!  Heh.  Eh…………….

Happy Oh Leven!

Happy New Year!

I thought about doing another Rezolewshun post, but I’ve only made one this year and it will be my main focus and that’s SURPRISE SURPRISE to lose weight.  I made an Ahoy Skinny Bitches Here I Come! effort last year and made progress and then.  Well, I dunno.  I just got fat again.

I’d give you the whole “this time is different” jargon, but I’ll spare you and just let you know that I don’t think harping on it/blogging about it/tracking it on 50 Million Pound Challenge and SparkPeople and then linking it here is the right “program” for me.  I’ve just made the decision that I’mgoingtodoitdamnit and that’s that.  So.  (Elliptilogues was short-lived and I may or may not update it this year.  We shall see.)  (I’m keeping The Before Picture, though.  It’s still pretty current and accurate.  Heh.)

We had a nice little Christmas, though it was sans Mawm and any Christmas sans Mawm could always be better.  But, we did have fun!  And cookies!  And cake!  And pie!

 

And toys!  And toys!  And toys!

And SNOW!

And tutus.  Nothing beats tutus.

We dealt with The Crud, of course, because no Holiday Break is complete without a 4-week cold that spreads through the family and makes you pray for The Rapture to just come already.

I have to admit, I was a bit Scrooge-y this year.  I didn’t like it.  Being Scrooge-y, that is.  I guess by the time I was “ready” for Christmas, I was actually ready for it to be over.

And a nap.

But here’s to an awesome Oh Leven with more pictures, smaller jeans, and a 6-month lead time on Christmas.  And maybe some wine.

The Annual Great Bloggy Holiday Card Exchange

“You need to do a new post, Young Lady!”

Yeah, my Mawm totally called me “Young Lady” for the first time in………..awhile.

Well, Mawm, you’re in luck!  Today is The Third Annual Great Bloggy Holiday Card Exchange!!!!!  Just in case you weren’t already made aware of that by the post title.  Heh.

****Disclaimer:  Most of you will be receiving the Snail Mail version of this card, so…….I dunno, act surprised when you open it at home or something.

:0)

Without further ado, I give you our 2010 Christmas Card aka our First Christmas Card Ever aka The One Thing On My 2010 Resolution List That I Actually Did.

 

I hope each and every one of you have an awesome holiday, whatever holiday you choose to celebrate.

The Art Of Growing

I’m slightly artistic.  I’m no van Gogh or Da Vinci or Dali.  I’m more crafty than anything else, I think.  Ya know, the Play-Doh, wood-and-paint, coffee filter wreath (Hi, Tracie!) kind of crafty.  But I’m very musical, which I think is an art.  Even if it’s more of a performing art than a visual art, it’s still psychological entertainment and, well, we’ll just humor Liz and go with the way of music as art and such.

ANYWHO.

My kid.  She’s artistic, I’m convinced.  Musically and visually.  She can sing Beyonce songs like it’s nobody’s business but hers and has the waving arms and head tilts to accompany it.  And she’s loved coloring and drawing since she could hold a crayon in her little fist and put color to paper in no particular fashion, which always made her squeel because that’s so cool, Mommy Look, Mommy!  She’s been slowly learning to color inside the lines and use pressure to make the colors lighter or darker.

And then last night, all of a sudden, she did this:

 

Out of nowhere, she draws a thing.  An actual thing with eyes and a mouth and feet.  Features!  Extremities!

I was so excited, I was hugging her and praising her work and then I made her do it over and over again so I could make sure Chris wasn’t trying to get one over on me.

(This one looked like it needed something to be warily staring at, so I obliged it with a………bee?)

This, I was cheerfully informed, is a baby frog.

This, however, is my baby

Growing up.

I’m a little bit thrilled at how her talents are emerging, one by one.  I’m a little bit sad that her babydom is slipping away, little by little.