I Could Use A Drink

Kittens, my stomach hurts. For some stupid reason, I decided it would be a great idea to write a book, then try to get it published. I just wanted someone to mail me a check and tell me what time to be at the bookstore for my book signing. I didn’t  actually want to TALK to an editor. But no, that’s what I’ll be doing tomorrow. Conversing with a real, live publishing giant who lives in NEW YORK. She probably never uses the word, “potty”, and wouldn’t go dumpster diving for a coupon if her life depended on it. Somehow, I have to convince this high-falutin city girl that I can write a book that she would be able to sell. Yeah, that’s totally going to work.

I’ve been trying to get JD to answer the phone in a high-pitched voice and pretend to be me, but he’s not going for it. What if she asks me a question and I don’t know the answer? What if she uses a word that I don’t know? What if she wants to Skype and sees that I’m a 79 year old woman wearing pj’s and drinking a beer at 9 a.m?

What if she publishes my book and I have to go to NEW YORK and meet her and then my book becomes a best-seller and Matt Lauer wants me to be on the Today show and I go and it adds 10 pounds to my size 16 self and I everyone makes fun of me and I become known as the fat writer that broke the Today show couch?

No wonder Hemingway drank so much.

I’ll let you know on Monday how it went. The hangover should be done by then.

I’m In A Mood

And it ain’t a good one. It probably stems from the fact I had to go into work today. That’s two meetings in three days! Luckily my fat pants were where I’d dropped them 2 days ago so I didn’t have to go through all the running around and searching. I probably should get those suckers dry cleaned at some point.

So, it’s Valentine’s Day. I remember when this was a big deal. A quiet dinner out to eat, dressing up in something pretty, getting chocolate. Now there are NO quiet dinners, ever, and all my pretty clothes are out-of-date and 3 sizes too small, and chocolate is on the forbidden list. Why are we wasting time and money looking for a cure for cancer when we should be investing in time travel? Hey, you could travel back to a time when you were cancer-free AND a size 2 that could still eat chocolate. Win-win.

This year JD and I will be hosting Moon and her cohorts for another sleepover. And that is all I have to say about that. Except that I called my mother and she said that she didn’t miss those days and that me and my cousins were the worst and it will not get any better and I’ll always have a house full and be exhausted until Moon leaves for college.

I’m trying to relax and get all the tv time I can before my house is taken over. Is anyone watching American Idol? I’ve barely seen it at all. I’m suddenly all involved in episodic television: Revenge, Nashville, Downton Abbey, Continuum, The Following, Smash, Grimm, Bunheads, Dallas, Grey’s Anatomy and Elementary. To name a few.

Also, books.

Quite the exciting life, huh? Well, I’m off to clean my house and prepare for the pre-teen party. My house is STILL not clean from the last time they were here. I just never seem to have the time.

It must be the meetings.

Twitter Humor

Because I don’t “follow” anyone on Twitter that’s funny except for my cousin Brian who rarely tweets, I have to go over to www.FunTweets.com and read theirs for my daily dose of laughter.
A few of my favorites:
The person you’re eating with can’t wait for you to go to the bathroom so they can check their phone.

Whoa. I just did something & almost forgot to document it on the Internet. That was a close one.
Kind of sad that old people, who have the least amount of time left, are the ones wasting the most time typing in “http://www.”
I put my pants on like everybody else. Grudgingly.
I’ll be signing books at Barnes & Noble from 6 p.m. to whenever they kick me out for ruining all their books.
There’s a fine line between flirty and creepy. And that line is called being good looking.
Get on Twitter. It’s  a thing.


Some days provide lots of blogging material. This would not be one of them. No one dropped in unexpectedly, I didn’t play a exciting game of bridge, and nothing harrowing happened unless you count the ten minutes I frantically searched my house for the one pair of pants that still fit. Yeah, I didn’t think so.

Moon got up and went to school without much fuss. We are always trying to get her to try new foods and last weekend I introduced her to Captain Crunch. Don’t judge me. Any morning we can get her fed and to school on time is a win. Once she was out the door, JD and I got dressed and hit the gym. I was determined that instead of my half mile walk – half mile run – repeat, I was going to run the mile ALL AT ONCE.

I’ve always been an optimist. Luckily, Planet Fitness is a NO JUDGEMENT ZONE, so I slowed my roll at the half way mark and dared anyone to say anything. The bad news is that I didn’t burn as many calories. The good news is that I read several chapters of a new book. Nothing says I’m Serious about my Workout like walking in with a book tucked under your arm.

I came home, showered, tried and discarded a bunch of really tight pants, before finally finding a pair that I could button. If you’re wondering why I bothered getting dressed at all, you know me very well. My friend J had a meeting with a client and she wanted me to go with her. Cause I’m super smart. Also, the meeting was in Hell’s half acre and she didn’t want to drive by herself. I thought for SURE that we’d say something stupid and I’d have something to blog about, like the time we walked in to some chic, midtown ad agency and asked for the “potty”, or the time J told a whole conference room full of people about this hilarious animation I’d been working on of a fat lady riding a bike and how she pulls her shorts out of her crack. Yeah, they didn’t get it either. But this meeting was booorring. Not one butt-crack story.

I made it home, where JD made me a salad for dinner and my daughter made a funny joke by asking if she could have ANOTHER sleep-over this weekend. Then she asked me to help her with her math homework on multiplying mixed numbers using distributive properties and I got so frustrated I may have screamed, “I cried myself through 5th grade once, I’ve paid my dues!” and passed the whole thing off to JD.

Finally, I collapsed on the couch, took 4 Advil, and watched Happy Gilmore.

I wish I could tell you tomorrow would be better, but I have a feeling it will go about the same. Except instead of searching for my fat pants, I’ll be wearing my fat pajamas. In other words – riveting.

Welcome, Monday

I’m too old for this.

Moon brought home a couple of friends on Friday for another sleep-over. And by “sleep”, I mean everything but. I went to Kroger to load up on groceries, then came home and hid in my bedroom with my computer and headphones. It would have worked but her stupid school had a stupid 80’s dance, and stupid elementary school kids can’t drive. Dang that “You must be 16 year old to drive” law.

They can’t sleep alone in the living-room either because apparently they thought watching a scary episode of Zack and Cody was a good idea. Which is why I ended up sleeping on the couch, trying to ignore whispers and giggling and elementary school-girl stank.

My back hurts.

On Saturday, I took them home then gave Moon the chore of cleaning the house while I took a long nap in a real bed. Which is when I got the following texts from Mantamy.



We are on our way.

I responded with my usual hospitable attitude with : I am not home.

But it was too late. They were in my drive-way. That’s what you get for telling people your real address. I didn’t really mind. I enjoyed seeing them and it’s not like their house is always perfect. Once I was going through her cabinets for a glass and she had a port glass mixed in with her sherry glasses. I know, right?

Saturday evening Moon and I drove inside the perimeter so she could rock her bridge lesson by making 6 spades DOUBLED. I think we can all agree it doesn’t get much better than that and Moon was singing the praises of bridge all the way home. I love it! It’s nice to know that she’ll be driving me to bridge clubs when I’m too old and infirm to drive myself.

Which would be Tuesday. Dang that “You must be 16 year old to drive” law.

Friday, February 8, 1983

It’s that time again, that night when I get to relive the wonderful fashions from my heyday. Moon’s school is having its 80’s dance. I’m teasing my bangs as I type.

Yesterday was uneventful. I went to the gym and ran 1 whole mile. It doesn’t sound like much but it’s like 5 miles for skinny people. Then I came home and worked because they keep EMAILING me. Geesh, I already went in to the office once this month, what more do those people want from me??

Because it’s been awhile since I’ve blogged and I’m out of practice, I totally forgot to photograph the meatloaf I made for dinner. It would have been a good Moron Test Kitchen if there was actually anyone out there that didn’t already know how to make meatloaf. My daughter looked at hers like it was made out of poop. I told her that was dinner and she could eat it or not and that’s when she got on the phone with her grandmother and disparaged my cooking.  I could hear her in the next room, “Yeah, you’ve tried her dessert, but have you ever eaten her meatloaf? Bleh.”  Someone should tell Moon that snitches wind up in ditches. Or grounded.

Today is going to consist of housecleaning and stocking up on hairspray. Moon is bringing a couple of friends home from the dance for a sleepover and by “sleepover” I mean I’ll probably be up till 3:00 a.m. if anyone wants to call and talk about that new senior football player or Poison.

This is what passed for music in my formative years. It explains a lot.

A Blast from the Past

I was connecting with some friends via Facebook and they were posting photos and videos online and it brought back some great memories. Also, some bad ones. You’ll probably find this hard to believe, but when I was a sophomore, I was sort of unpopular. It might have been the stringy hair and braces. When I didn’t make the cheer squad, I was devastated. Not one to take it lying down, I gathered some other outcasts and we started our OWN cheer squad. Hey, wrestlers need to be cheered on too!

Then one day, the regular cheer squad tried to TAKE OVER. So me and my cheer buddies..oh, just watch for yourselves.

I may have changed a bit physically, but I’ve got those same moves today.

A Banner Day

One of the reasons I stopped blogging was because I was worried that my life wasn’t exciting enough. What was I thinking! Take today for instance. In a rare burst of energy, I got up and SHOWERED. I mean, like before 9 and everything. Sure it was only because my employer called and asked me to  come into the office for once, but still I DID it. Obviously my body wasn’t used to being up and moving at the ungodly hour of 8 because I somehow managed to pull a muscle in my back. I sat in pain for almost 3 hours at work before my dear friend remembered that he has chronic back pain and that that entitles him to some seriously cool drugs. Which he shared. It’s only been about 6 hours and I’m still feeling groovy. I should really remember to ask him what I took. I hope it’s not Meth. I hear that’s hard to get on a regular basis.

Anyway, not only did I score some sort of amazing drug, I also scored coupons. Dumpster diving in a retirement community is the best! I stopped at Kroger on the way home and got 11 protein bars for FREE. I don’t know if they’re edible, but that’s really beside the point, amiright?

But the best thing of ALL happened when I got home. My husband presented me with the keys to my CAR! See, last September JD was out hotdogging in my car and blew the transmission. We could have paid someone to fix it, but we went a different route. Some friends in real estate had just purchased a home in foreclosure and along with the house came a car. A car that just happened to be the same year, make and model of mine. So we bought it and had it towed to my house. Did I mention they couldn’t find the key and no one knew if it even ran? Aww, what are the chances it wouldn’t?  First, JD took the transmission out of the new/old car. Then he took the transmission out of my car. Then he, along with a couple of men over the course of a few weeks, put the new/old transmission IN my car. Then he fixed the vacuum hose that had broken off. Then he fixed the brakes that had rusted from sitting unused for five months. Then he got the emissions done and tags for it. Finally, he listed the old car on Craig’s List so he could sell it piece by piece to people who need spare parts. And it only took five months!

That must have been a really powerful drug, cause to me, it still makes perfect sense.

Dead People’s Stuff

Every now and then over the last few weeks, something would happen and I’d think, “Now THIS would make a good blog post.” Mostly it was when my mother was in town. She came, along with the Aunt’s, the week before Moon’s birthday to go to estate sales and to celebrate Moon’s birth. Mostly that first one.

The weekend they came was cold so we didn’t get a LOT of bargains, but we still had fun. The highlight had to be lining up at a house with 17 other people, getting mad because it was five after nine and the door hadn’t opened, urging the people at the front to bang on the door, and then seeing a poor woman answer while half asleep and wearing a shorty robe. Turns out the agents listed the wrong address. Oopsie. The real tragedy was that when we found the correct address they didn’t have anything good. Annoying, amiright?

I did manage to find twin beds, and my aunt totally scored on a chrome, toilet-paper holder, but it was this PAST weekend when I scored my biggest find to date. I made JD get up with me and drive all the way across Marietta, but you can imagine how happy he was when I found the perfect gift for Moon.

Now she’s an official member of the Cartouche Bridge Club!  In an odd twist, JD says he’s unavailable next weekend. Well, with all the bridge pj’s and chrome, toilet-paper holders taken, there’s nothing good left anyway.

I’m Bak, Bak, Back!

So my friend “J” emailed me the other day and said that since I wasn’t USING Zolligirl, that she was going to delete it. DELETE it. She said some other stuff about how I wasn’t actually paying for hosting and how she needed the space for “real” clients, blah, blah, blah. I told her that she should just bill her clients for more to cover the cost of my hosting, but for some reason she didn’t think that was a good idea. Good help is hard to find, amiright?

All of this to say that I decided to go ahead and PAY her since I use Zolligirl as an online recipe book and I didn’t want to have to go through the trouble of writing my Moron Test Kitchen’s down. It appears that I’m lazy. Who knew? What does this have to do with anything? Well, if I’m PAYING for hosting, I might as well go ahead and use it.

So, how’ve you been? In the months since we’ve spoken, I’ve managed to gain another 10 pounds, keep my house clean for almost 1 days in a row, oh, and I’ve become a chicken activist. Or as I like to call it, a chicken HATCHtivist!

Yes, I still don’t have chickens and if Cobb County has anything to say about it, I never will! Currently the law is that you must own 2 acres. TWO acres. Who can afford 2 acres in Cobb County? 3% of the people, that’s who. Same old story, the poor get poorer and the rich get chickens. But I’m not taking it lying down. I am using all my power and influence to get the law changed. And by “power and influence” I mean I’m leaving anonymous comments on the Marietta Daily Journal online newspaper. Also, a twitter account.

Here’s what people who want chickens say:

I am happy to see an article on the front page of the MDJ that explores why and how people are living healthier lives when it comes to their food choices. Come on Cobb County and Marietta City! Why can’t I have a few chickens in my backyard that can enjoy some sun on their beaks rather than languish in an industrial henhouse somewhere? Young families want fresh organic eggs from their backyard and the experience of caring for the animals as pets. Other counties and cites in the local Atlanta area allow their residents to have small flocks. Why can’t we?

Here’s what people who DON’T want chickens say:

Duh. Me no want chicken. Me just buy egg.

Clearly, the Cobb Board of Commissioners have a tough decision to make. Sign the petition for backyard chickens in Cobb County here. And if you don’t, remember that Zolligirl is back up and running and looking for material. And I have lots of photos of you.

Hatchtivist don’t play.