Alabaster Mom

Call this a "hail Mary" blog entry so that I don't look like such a slacker for the month of February. My excuse is that I've been busy. Also, every time I sit down at the computer I wander off into passiveaggressivenotes.com and then forget why I sat down at the computer in the first place (yes, I've gotten to that age). I also recently discovered a site called Regretsy - Where DIY Meets WTF . So yeah, productive time at the computer has mostly fallen by the wayside. But wait, I have another excuse. I've been busy doing stuff like . . . Last Monday I picked up two Boxers that were sprung from a shelter north of me. The rescue didn't have a foster home open right away and both dogs were in need of veterinary care (vaccinations, heartworm testing, neutering, etc.), so I dropped them off at my clinic for boarding. Then came the job of finding foster homes for these two very nice chaps. Spencer is 10-12 and Jake is 6-7. They were dumped at a shelter...

Sorry for the dearth of new posts - my muddah was in town. I ferried her back to the airport (two hours away, in the snow, because I am just that kind of daughter) today and she's headed home to Oklahoma. Highlights from her visit: A trip to the mall, wherein I scored two big Yankee Candle jar candles and a very cute spring jacket, courtesy of the 'rents. Happy birthday to me! A night out at the roller derby. A friend of mine is a derby chick so I thought it would be fun to take my mom to something different. We had a good time, though we're both still a little fuzzy on the actual rules of roller derby. On Monday, we kept the kid home from school and she spent the afternoon with her Meemaw while P and I were at work. Apparently they played games and drank hot chocolate. I didn't get a lot of details about what they did, as there seemed to be a "don't ask don't tell" policy in place to which they were both adhering pretty firmly. From what I gathere...

"It's our birthday!" we always exclaimed every February, as though we were twins (and as a matter of fact we did later hatch a plot to be adopted by each other's parents). Born a scant five days apart, Jared and I have been friends since we were 14. And, today is his birthday. We met in 9th grade, in GT English, I believe. I might be making that up. We met in one class or other our Freshman year at Robert E. Lee High school. Over the years we had gym and English together, and maybe a couple of other random classes. You couldn't help but want to be Jared's friend. With his sky-high IQ and sharp wit, it was easy to be drawn to him. 26 years later, he's still the funniest guy I know. A few memories from days of yore: During our Freshman year, Jared and I made a vow that we would make it all the way through high school without playing an organized team sport of any kind. And, we kept that vow. When we were allowed to choose different activities in gym class...

My neighbor Cassi invited me to a Pure Romance party at her house Tuesday night so, in spite of some trepidation, I went. I'd been to one of these parties about four years ago, and I figured my embarrassment had subsided enough by now to attend another one. Seriously, my cheeks were flushed for a week after the last smutfest. One thing I can tell you for sure: don't even attempt one of these gatherings if you don't drink. Seriously. As I was walking out the door to trot around the corner through the snow, I posted on my Facebook page that I was "headed to a Pure Romance Party. AKA . . . smut." A guy from my church immediately replied, "I KNEW IT!" Now, I don't know what he thinks he knows, but now I can't help but wonder exactly what sort of impression I've been giving at church. In telling you about the party, I'll have to be very careful about my word choices here, because I don't want to attract a bunch of perverts to my...

It's all over but the shoutin'. I'm 40. I wonder if I'll now start to shake my fist in the air periodically and rail against "you kids and your twitters and your facesbooks!" Actually, if you want to feel really, truly geriatric, check out www.textsfromlastnight.com. That site simultaneously repulses and fascinates me. Has college really changed that much in 20 years? I had no idea that anal sex is now an acceptable topic of casual conversation. Apparently I don't get out much. Anywho, our romantic getaway for three was fabulous. We swam, we shopped, we whirlpooled, and we ate candy. We arrived on Friday and there was a bottle of wine and a card in our suite when we checked in. "Who sent this?" I wondered. "Someone who doesn't know you at all," responded P. (It was Merlot.) The gift turned out to be from the resort itself, which was very nice. When I made the reservation I had mentioned that it was a birthday trip. I've stayed t...

. . . halfway to dead. Yeah, I'll be 40 on Sunday. Being 39 for the past year has felt a bit like a joke - 39 is the age people say they are when they are really 40. Have you ever tried to contemplate your own mortality? It's a weird concept for one's brain to grasp. It's hard for me to picture my life without me in it. I've dealt with medical issues most of my life, so it's hard to predict what will take me down. I've read that skin cancer is what kills many people with albinism, and since I also have no pigment in my skin (because of vitiligo), I'm putting my money on that. You know how when some people have a serious illness and everyone who knows them says, "He'll never quit. He's a fighter!" Well, I'm pretty sure that when some colossal malady strikes me, those who knew me will remark, "Yes, I'm hardly surprised. She was a giver-upper from way back." But enough about that. First, I need to live long enough to ...

My daughter is attending a Valentine's Day party at her 4K class tomorrow. I knew about this little shindig in advance and picked up two sets of Valentine cards: X-Men for the boys and Princess Tiana (of Princess and the Frog fame) for the girls (don't bust my chops over the gender stereotypes - it seemed like a good idea at that time). I pulled out the class list and wrote the name of a recipient (twenty children in all) on each card. Some of the spellings seem a little wacky to me, but what do I know? There were a few student names that were iffy enough that I had to check with my daughter to confirm which ones have a penis and which do not. I sat the kid on a stool at the kitchen counter and instructed her to start writing her name on each card. Instead of blasting through them as I'd hoped, she signed her name to one card. Then she applied a foam heart sticker to it. Then she layered a slightly smaller heart sticker on top of that one. And then added a third. Sh...

The list of things I suck at (or "things at which I suck" . . . the English major in me doesn't like to end a sentence with a preposition, even though many grammar guides have now sanctioned it) has just grown. The list was already pretty long. I cannot: accept a compliment knit, crochet, or sew do math play cards (I can , but pretend I can't because it's just so freaking boring) hit a ball or play an organized sport of any kind sing play an instrument or read music draw (you do not want me on your team for Pictionary) do the splits read a map properly run any reasonable distance without appearing as though I suffer from a neurological disorder understand what "penalty declined" means in NFL football New entry: meditate. At church on Sunday, we had an interesting speaker. She runs a local yoga studio. She spoke about being "in the moment" and not letting your mind wander. It's definitely a challenge, being fully present. After speaking for...

This afternoon we took A to her cousin's third birthday party. My sister-in-law wisely came to the conclusion that having a birthday party at your house every year is for the birds. The cooking, the cleaning, the unruly relatives, etc. So, she booked it in a bowling alley. The bowling alley was conveniently located in 1963. Don't get me wrong - I love hanging out in unpretentious joints that just barely meet health codes. We had a blast! You gotta check out the decor, though. Apparently this is the last place in the free world that allows smoking indoors. I didn't know which I found more aesthetically pleasing - the groovy stars or the soggy cigarette butt. I wish I knew what the original ashtray looked like. I'm betting it was fab-u-lous. Molded white and orange plastic seats? Check! This baffled and frightened me most of all. No, the photo is not upside down. There was indeed a large custodial bucket strapped into the ceiling. The only person at the party who...

First off, I did indeed go to my Weight Watchers meeting on Saturday, in case you wondered. Let it not be said that I am not a woman of my word. Normally, Nan at the scale would say something along the lines of, "You're not too far off; you're doing fine." On Saturday she busted out with, "You're up quite a bit." Well, see, I know because . . . I own a scale. The meeting topic was highly relevant for me: emotional eating. For the past few days, I have been repeating the mantra from the meeting: "if hunger is not the problem, food is not the answer." Sometimes food tells me that it is the answer if I just ask the right question. Nonetheless, I recommitted myself to the program and so far this week has gone pretty well. I think part of my problem is that I am trying to do too much every day. By late afternoon, I am feeling pretty brittle and it doesn't take much to break me. Over-scheduled and over-extended, that's me. On Monday nights, ...