Showing posts from October, 2010

Belle - she gets around

As I promised my mother, I took her granddaughter to every possible Halloween-related event I could find.  If Meemaw was willing to slave away over yellow fabric for weeks on end, the least I could was to make sure the kid was seen in the glorious Belle gown.  We attended three different events this weekend.  And of course the actual trick-or-treating in our neighborhood.  My daughter has had a sugar buzz for about three days straight.  I'd been holding the trick-or-treating gig over her head for the past week or so.  I told her that for each infraction, I'd take five houses off the list.  I may or may not have implied that those five houses are known to give out full-size candy bars. Listen, I work with what I've got.  Thank goodness I can roll out the ever-useful S-A-N-T-A threat shortly. Earlier today, we had a minor battle over lunch.  I'd made steamed cauliflower, couscous with pine nuts, and drop biscuits.  Okay, not the most interesting meal but we are running

Yoga, Yo

I tried a yoga class for the first time last night.  I must admit I have been curious about yoga for most of my adult life.  I've often been tempted to purchase a yoga mat and try it at home but then I remember: "The dogs will step on my head."  At our service auction at church last week, I (apparently caught up in the festive spirit of the 60s-themed event) signed up for a "yoga party" to be held in January. A few days later, I decided to check out the yoga studio's website to see what I'd gotten myself into.  The first introductory class is free - well, that's an offer I can't refuse.  The site did a good job of making me feel like beginners would be not be shunned, so I decided to give it a try. I have a few reasons why I've wanted to try yoga.  For starters, the mind-body connection continues to elude me.  I seem to suffer from what the Buddhists call "monkey mind."  My brain is full of distracting worries and I do not know ho

It's a draw

Although there are moments when I think it would be nice to have another kid around, I'm generally very content with just one.  A keeps asking for a sibling, of course.  She says, "I want a sister who's five just like me!"  I keep telling her, "That's usually called a twin and it's, um, not happening."  Anyhow, as parents of onlies can attest, keeping a single child entertained can be a challenge at times.  Therefore, I was pleased as punch when my daughter embarked on a coloring/drawing kick recently.  She sits for a solid hour or two at a time, churning out artwork at a steady pace. The drawings are generally of me, her dad, her, her teacher, and her teacher's cat (Cookie).  She is also learning to write, so many of the pictures have words on them.  A few days ago she handed me a drawing on which she had written: "I like fire."  I really do not know what to say about that.  She learned to write the word after a recent fire safety we

Pardon the dust

I'm doin' a little renovating. The other blog design was just supposed to be up until I was discovered by a major literary agent and then handsomely rewarded for my limitless talent, at which time I could afford to pay for a custom design.  Shockingly, this has not happened.  So, I'm going generic all the way. I've swapped the color scheme at least a dozen times today so don't be surprised if the palette changes a few more times.  I refuse to commit. In other news, a few days ago I was contacted by the program chairperson at my church.  She said that the program committee met last week and because I did such a stellar job the first two times I presented a topic at Sunday service, they wondered if I would be willing to speak again in February.  Part of me thought, "Oh, how flattering!" and another part thought, "Oh, they must be running low on speakers."  Regardless, I agreed to do it.  Now I just need to come up with a good topic.  Typically, e

Sister Wives

I realize that every blogger on the planet has already weighed in on the show “Sister Wives.” I have tried to refrain, but now it’s bugging me and I can’t help myself. The show airs on Sunday evenings (well, it did – I think it’s actually done now for the season). P works on Sundays evenings, so I get about a half hour to myself after the kid goes to bed. So of course I use that time to read Faulkner watch sub-standard television programs. Mostly, I have this expression on my face when I watch: Me, perplexed and befuddled A few thoughts come to mind during the course of the show. One: is there some sort of man shortage in Utah? I mean, seriously? Four women are wedded to this lone man, Kody Brown (only the first one is a legal marriage, however). It’s hard for me to comment on the apparent attraction to this particular man, because personally I am not drawn to him. I go for the traditional “tall, dark, and handsome” deal myself. My other half is more like “tall, grey, and hand

Belle Belle Belle

I hear the word "Belle" (as in, "Beauty and the Beast") about 80 times a day. Belle dress, Belle movie, Belle shoes, Belle Belle Belle. "The Bells" by Edgar Allan Poe always springs to mind.  Not a normal mind, just mine. My daughter has been obsessed with the princess in the yellow gown for  the past year or two.  As Disney heroines go, I have to admit she's not that bad (a slightly better role model than the princesses who do nothing but wait for the dashing menfolk to save them from an endless slumber and whatnot).  Belle is bookish and loyal.  She's a brunette - always a plus.  The movie itself is the soundtrack to long car rides and to my life in general.  I think I know every song, every word of dialogue. There goes the baker with his tray, like always The same old bread and rolls to sell Last year, A was Super Girl for Halloween.  I knew that she regretted the decision almost immediately (although her nerdy, comic book-loving dad was

In other news . . . I have a lover

He has soulful brown eyes.  He is totally devoted to me and follows me wherever I go, listening with rapt attention to whatever I say.  He gets jealous when I try to kiss others. I think it's time I introduced you to my new man: Benny. I love his dark brindle coat, his stocky build, and his big, blocky head.  His breath smells like a rotting carcass topped with fresh vomit but hey, nobody's perfect.  Poor hygiene is no reason to reject a fella. The only other stumbling block in our relationship: his steadfast refusal to seek gainful employment. It's okay, though.  I'll get a second job if I have to so that we can be together. He is staying with me until he proposes or gets adopted, whichever comes first. Our love cannot be denied.

Oh, Emily . . . we're so sorry.

After 10+ years of volunteering for a Boxer rescue organization, I can take just about anything in stride. Nothing really grosses me out (and I’ve seen some foul shit attached to and coming out of various dogs, let me tell you). Dogs come and go from my home and I find something to love about each one of them. I try to focus on the pooches we can and do help and not the ones we couldn’t or didn’t. Otherwise, my heart would break at least once a day. People are constantly sending us emails containing dire pleas like “This dog will be PTS on Friday!” PTS is shelter lingo for “put to sleep.” Most of the time, the dog is far away and we already have our hands full just trying to help local dogs. Last week, however, a friend of mine tagged me in a photo she put on Facebook. She lives a few states away. I became acquainted with her originally because she founded the rescue for which I volunteer. She founded the rescue and then I came along and offered the one skill I have: my ability to or

Gettin' away, if only for a day

I attended a moms' getaway this weekend.  There were six of us.  We shopped, went out to lunch, shopped some more, ran our mouths a lot, and then checked into our hotel rooms.  We had two adjoining rooms at a hotel about thirty miles from where we live (hey, a getaway is a getaway, man). As soon as we checked in and got settled in our suite, I had to use the bathroom.  Click! I locked the door behind me. I do this automatically at home because, inevitably, my daughter will need to tell me something ASAP and no, mama, I can't wait thirty seconds !  Then I remembered that she wasn't there and that my friends were unlikely to be so desperate to show me their drawings that they would feel compelled to bust in on me in the bathroom. One of the other moms made a beeline for the telephone as soon as we got to our hotel rooms.  She was going to unplug it so that her young boys would not play with it and dial 911 (emergency personnel tend to frown upon that sort of thing).  Then

If she's so smart, why can't she take off both shoes in the same room?

I attended my first parent-teacher conference of the year yesterday. I joked on my Facebook page that morning that I was going to take along a bottle of Ketel One and make a drinking game out of it – do a shot every time I heard the terms “very social” “does not listen” or “has her own agenda.” I arrived a few minutes early and sat in the hallway to wait for my scheduled conference time. There are two Kindergarten classrooms, directly across from each other. Both classroom doors were open. Because I was facing the other classroom (not my daughter’s class), I could hear that conference better. Well, these hapless parents were getting an earful about their offspring. Apparently this little rapscallion races through her assignments without doing them properly, doesn’t listen to instructions, etc. I started to wonder if maybe Kindergarten is a lot more demanding than I realized or remembered. Finally, it was my turn. Mrs. L (a petite, energetic lady who weighs approximately what my lef

An ode to mamas (and Tim Gunn, too)

Confession: I am a Project Runway junkie. There is no compelling reason why I, personally, should love this show. I am not fashion-forward in the least (I get tons of compliments on how I dress my kid, but never on how I dress myself). I cannot sew a stitch even though my mom can sew like the wind (she has fantasies about Tim Gunn showing up at her house and announcing, “Let’s go to Mood !”) I have only a passing interest in reality TV (I have never sat through an episode of The Bachelor , Big Brother , or Jersey Shore although I will admit to watching Lockup Raw more often than a normal law-abiding person should/would), but yet I tune in to Project Runway every Thursday like clockwork. I even let the kid eat popcorn and watch Nickelodeon in my bed on Thursday nights so that I can have the other TV all to myself. Anyway, for whatever reason, I really enjoy the show and have been a fan for several seasons. Watching creative, artsy people make legitimate (if outlandish) clothing ou