Monday, April 27, 2009

Saturday Night

I've been sitting on tickets to see John Prine in concert for months. I got a sitter. I got dolled up. And I got dissapointed. Here is a list of things I did not post to Twitter about the concert:


OMG. I am too tired to go out. Whose bright idea was it to buy these concert tickets?

I have assembled the perfect outfit. High heel boots, with nude fishnets, skirt, T-shirt & suede jacket.

I need a shot of espresso with a redbull chaser.

F! It's really cold.

Finally at the Warfield. Remember me, old music venue?

Who are all these old people?

Who is this warm-up act?

Who is that guy?

Damn, my feet hurt.

$10 for a cocktail?

Why is everyone sitting? Oh right, the median age is 50+.

There is a huge hole in my stockings and it could be somewhat obscene. I hope I don't end up exposing myself.

The guy next to me keeps yelling, "Space Monkey". Over and over and over.

All this fun AND $10 an hour for the sitter.

"Space Monkey!!!!!"

What if I fall down the stairs and my skirt flies up and everyone sees my ripped up hosiery? Focus on the clean underwear. Please.

Why do I wear heels?

Going for to the restroom for entertainment. Sure sign of a bad show.

"Space Monkey!!!!!!!"

Can I go home now?

My husband is such a good sport for putting up with & indulging my singer/songwriter fascination.

When I get home, I am so putting on sneakers to walk the babysitter out.

"Space Monkey!!!!!"

When I get home, I am so throwing these hose in the trash.

I bet bartenders have to contend with some stinky breath. Especially when everyone in the audience has gray hair.

Look, Mister. There is a set list and I'm pretty sure he's not going to stray from it.

"Space Monkey!!!!!"

Ohhhhh. Encore. There setting up an extra mic! I hope it's a duet!

Oh - no, just bringing out the warm-up guy again.

Yay! Time to go home. Just have to hobble to the parking lot.

Well, that was fun. Just not as much as I had anticipated. Okay, maybe fun is an overstatement. I got out of the house. Whoot.

"Space Monkey!!!!!"

Thursday, April 23, 2009

Mission Accomplished

I frequently have Kathy Ireland moments. My moments are void of the Sport's Illustrated swimsuit covers, supermodel status and doctor husband. And more of the variety where the image that gets captured of myself on camera, is very different than the image I have of myself in my head or the image I see in the mirror. So a few months ago, I set a weight loss/healthy living goal to "wear shorts". (Yep, I set the bar real high.) Yesterday I finally took the tags off.



And then I went to the gym for 2.5 miles on the treadmill and an hour long Body Pump class.

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Welcome Home



We caught an early flight out of Austin and dropped out bags at the house picked up backpacks and rushed the girls to school. You know public schools lose money when kids are absent and I hadn't lined up any seat fillers for the day. Then we rushed over to pick up our dog from boarding at the pet hospital. The staff could not have gushed anymore about the lil feller and almost didn't give him back. Then we jumped back into the car (which wasn't stolen from the garage, unlike my bike.) to drive across the Bay Bridge and deposit Erik at work for some advertising related emergency - much like a medical emergency but always ends up :30 or :60 seconds in length. Then I took out our brakes navigating the hills attempting to get back on the Bay Bridge when the dog poo'd in the car. Um, yeah. So I pulled over grabbed some napkins and rushed across the street to deposit the love offering in a trash receptacle just in time to have a tow truck pull in behind me. Boy, was he disappointed when I took off leaving him with a fresh whiff of hot breaks and doggie surprise. Back on the island, I bypassed the fast food establishment in favor of grabbing a Naan Wrap at the farmers market.

When I got home to eat it, the lamb curry looked remarkably similar to what my dog had left for me on the passengers seat. Which I couldn't seem to shake the smell of no matter how many times I washed my hands. I've been unpacking for a few hours now and still, every so often, I catch a hint of that smell. Not the curry. The eu du poo. And just moments ago when I thought I was going to have to have my nose removed because there was dog mess taking residence in my nostrils, I discovered that the whole back side of my shirt is covered in dog shit.

I'm back!

Thursday, April 9, 2009

Golf and Hockey and Beer, Oh My

We're currently all in the great state of Texas for spring break. I was looking forward to this trip. Our whole family going to visit my family or Erik's opportunity to see just how far that leash of his would let out.

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Madeline Alice Spohr

I met Heather at BlogHer '08. I've followed her blog ever since and fell in love with her baby over the past year. Maddie's death comes as quite a shock to me and I imagine, to all of the others who love her. My heart is heavy and my thoughts are with her family.

Monday, April 6, 2009

That Smell

If ever there was person to listen to and take to heart the words "it doesn't smell very good" that person would be the Health/Beauty expert at Whole Foods.

My olfactory organs are scarred for life.

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

A Good Night




Recently, Lula brought home this Fancy Nancy Book, Fancy Nancy's Favorite Fancy Words from Accessories to Zany. The letter C was represented by canopy - or perhaps there was some other superfluous sublime vocabulary. I do remember that the illustration showed how Nancy used brooms to create a canopy for her bed. Well, of course the girls wanted to attempt to recreate the same look. After a brief bit of prodding, I got busy with the brooms:




They were beyond pleased. And they happily slept under the stripes for a few days before the whole thing came tumbling down.



I hope that they remember these moments. Times where I eagerly got busy turing their plans into action with great success all before bedtime. Mostly, I hope we can all forget those moments where I'm a Fussy Hussy and lose it over the little stuff.