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Friday, June 22, 2012

Me. Meat on my bones. Love it or leave it.

Hey- yeah, umm, I know I have no followers anymore since I abandoned this blog and started writing about wine and food. But today on my trek up some stairs in my neighborhood during my new summer workout regime, I had a thought. I had a few thoughts, actually.

But, this particular thought is sortof ironic, or relevant, or something.... see, I've lost all of my literary knowledge thanks to Facebook and the absence of stream-of-conscience blogging.

What I wanted to say is this: I'm okay. As I'm running up and down the rock steps I realize, I'm okay. I'm doing this, but only to maintain. Only to stay the 15 pounds over what I weighed back before I had Izabel. Only to stay an acceptable weight and form, at my apparently(?) advanced age, to continue eating great food, drinking great wine and having the fun that I have with the great people in my life. And that's fine with me. GREAT! Yeah, that's right, I'm embracing my Kim-Kardashian ass and owning that shit. Obviously, I would be willing to suffer otherwise. Granted, if I gave up the wine and lived on a stupid ass paleolithic diet or whatever for a while, I'd get back to the pre-baby weight of my 20s but, then what??? I love cooking, eating and drinking the wine and y'know what? I have a whole lotta fucking fun in life. It's just not worth it to me. It's my choice. I eat whole food, don't take pills and drink decent wine, and I'm good. I'm like Stuart Smalley: I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and doggonnet, I'm worth it. So for those of you constantly depriving yourselves of things you love, have at it. Count me out. Personally, I've just realized I'm OK, and no one else in my life is complaining about me besides me...

So, if I see you at the pool this summer in my larger bikini, plastic Riedel
-esque glass of chardonnay in hand, bag of nuts in the other, know this: I own this shit. I will not stop running the steps and doing hot yoga. I'm rockin' the ghetto booty and lovin' it. I will not stop cooking risotto, complete with full-fat cheese every few weeks, and I will not stop the lovely wine. It's a liberating thought that I'm more happy to be a fit yogi chick with some meat on her bones than a skinny hungry bitchy one! This is me!  no smaller, no bigger, just right. This is me. Love it or leave it Tommy!

Now, for that second helping of risotto, guilt not included.....


Monday, July 5, 2010

Ooops I Did it Again

I wrote about something that touches nerves with people. Where do I get off?

How about this: Just finished Hot Tub Time Machine and now I'm really in the mood for some Motley Crue, and I heart John Cusack. God, I heart him. Almost as much and Downey, Jr.

That's some dang generic bloggin', right?


Friday, June 25, 2010

Guess Who's Back?

I'm pretty sure the manager at Chick Fil A thinks I'm a mother on the edge. About to pull a Sylvia Plath, as I have mentioned it enough times that if I did it now, everyone would just think I'm crying wolf.
"What? He walked in and her head was literally in the oven and the kids' bedroom doors were duct-taped shut? So he laughed, decided they must be safely quarantined from harm and decided to jump on his dirtbike and ride it at top speed around the neighborhood, since he never gets to do that without the kids wanting a ride. He came back an hour later and her head was still there. So sad. I heard she was obsessed with Sylvia Plath long before she even had kids..."

As I'm sure you know, I refer to Sylvia Plath in drama, good fun, in jest. My life isn't that bad.

Anyway, the first time this manager identified my Plath-ness, I was taking Becks to lunch there while Izzy was at school. Just the two of us, mommy-toddler date. So cute. Right. It was just one of those days. He was totally defiant, wouldn't eat, only wanted to play on the outside playground and decided, once out there, that he was going to the car for something. We had a few minutes of arguing about it and hand gestures that I'm sure all the people inside could see. "I'm going!" he yelled, and I was all, "yeah sure you are," thinking I would just jump up if he got inside, and went back to my iphone to play my turn on words with friends. Next thing I know he's pulling open the glass door open that weighs a ton, and it's almost slamming back on him when 3 employees run to his rescue, and glare straight at me, Shitty Mom. "This is really heavy and could slam his little fingers!" "Oh I know! I'm sorry I didn't think of that! Sorry." The pleasant-faced blonde manager comes up to me and and pats me on the back in an I Pity You sortof way. "I know it's hard. I had two. But enjoy it, it doesn't last long." Thank you, words of wisdom from wise woman. She kept standing there and talking and I seriously thought she was casing me out to decide whether or not i was a candidate for S.C.A.N. I thank her and we leave. I get to the car and without thinking, back up. Straight into the Dodge Charger that i had watched, earlier, park nearly diagonally in the parking space behind me. But I couldn't go forward because of the line of 20 cars dyin for some chik fil a. I had already forgotten, that's how brain-dead I am. I bash into the Charger. EFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF!!!!!! Let's just bleep what i really said. I picture a horrid dent that Chris is going to demand we get fixed immediately and spend God knows how much because he is so obsessed with aesthetics and I get out, crying. To my surprise, I have no dent and the Charger only has a little scuff, and possibly a cracked side headlight.
I'm frantic about what to do, can't hit and run, so i leave Becks, lock the car and run inside, right into Nice Lady manager. She finds the people and brings them out to see the damage. My perfectly good karma helped me out here, because the Government Agent said it was the govt's car anyway, and the other light was already cracked. I was like, "soooo, what should I do?" and wondered if I should offer he cash, which i didn't have...or to write a check? for what? bribery? We stood there long enough and she sensed my poor sweet frantic momness enough to say "Don't worry about it." I wanted to hug her but I didn't. And the Nice Lady manager was visibly relieved for me, thankful I wouldn't go home and wail out my frustrations on my toddler's poor little white booty.

We see her again at a benefit for a girl from Izzy's school. She sees me with the whole fam, and we seem stable and happy enough. Maybe she lost her concern.

Then a few weeks later, yesterday, I take both kids to the crowded Chick Fil A. Becks is sliding off my hip because he refuses to walk, and both of them look like rugrats with their crazy curly red unbrushed hair. She comes up to me just as Becks turns over his napkin with ketchup all over it and spills a drink. "How are you?" she asks in a concerned way. Let me get you another one. I'll get them another fruit cup too. Are you not eating mom? as she looks down at my wasit to see if I'm starving myself. Anything to drink?" Umm do you have wine at Chick fil A? I mean the woman thinks I'm seriously on the brink I guess. She's so sincerely concerned for me I wonder if I should ask her if she'll take me in a couple days a week so I can have time off or maybe score me a year's worth of free nuggets and chocolate milks..?

Anyway, yeah. Taking them out in public sometimes is just more frantic than it's worth so this afternoon, instead of beating the 98 degree heat at the athletic club pool, I opted to let them FREE PLAY while i sit on my bed, MacBook on lap in the air conditioning.

I think I'm back, babies.

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

RhoRho's Weekend, err, Tuesday, err, Monthly, Update

Oh-mah-gosh I have been gone a while, and appreciate those of you who check on me every now and then. Dude, I'm at some kind of every-seven-year kindof life change thing and my mind is scattered...however, I do manage to handle a couple regular, low-paying gigs that, along with Facebook and the other ten-thousand things I have, or want, to do in a day as the struggling domestic figure that I am, blogging has been put on the back burner, it seems, for a while now. I see friends on Facebook who are starting blogs and all excited about it, and it takes me back to when it was what I did all evening, drinking wine, ignoring my husband, who probably didn't mind because he got to watch OC Choppers.

Also, now I'm getting back into art, which I had abandoned for a couple years, and I'm doing a mural at a friends office - for money. Way more money than any writing has been bringing in sooo... I dunno, maybe I'll get back into it or maybe this is a one-time thing. We'll see how it turns out, but I'm loving doing it. I put on my earbuds and can't help but let a little boogie or hum slip, and when the office girls are there working, I know they're giggling or making fun of me, since I can't hear them at all, nor do I care. They only wish they could be so free-spirited! And sometimes I go in after they're closed, and crank it up and flat-out wail. I'm huge into Ryan Adams right now, and the new Courtyard Hounds, which is the sisters from the Dixie Chicks. Just in case you're needing some new tunes. And always John Mayer's newest Battle Studies and all Kings of Leon.

Umm, on another note, I couldn't even wait til the clock struck five today to pour a glass of zin (I think it was 4:57), because my three and six year-old FIGHT after being together for oh, about five minutes. Every. Single. Fucking. Day. It's driving me to the fucking brink. Seriously, there is an oven less than five feet away from me and I have read everything Sylvia Plath ever so so..if you don't see me back here, you'll know.

But hope you do come back, and someday, I'll snoop around and visit you. And now, anyone got a Jager shot?

Thursday, April 8, 2010

Get with the program people!

There are certain people out there, in my life and yours, who are boycotting texting. And I think this is downright ridiculous. In this time of unbelievable technology, who wouldn't want to take advantage of it? And as a mother with 2 kids typically yelling in the background, texting works out for me just fine. I need to tell you something, and I need to tell you now before my fetal-brain-drained mind forgets, and I'm going to text you. DO NOT call me back.  Text me back. Whenever you can is fine. Don't say you don't have time for texting because when you think about it, it takes a lot less time to get across a point and be done with it. Save the long chats for Saturday mornings or something, we all have shit to do. And, it's NOT impersonal, it's just friggin' convenient. SO, if I text you and you make some character judgement on me and out of spite don't reply or just call me back eventually, whatever. I'm NOT giving up my texting.
Wait, footnote: if you are still using a Razr or some other kind of non-texting phone, I get it it. Pushing every button ten times sucks. But get yourself a friggin' Smart phone, you won't be sorry.

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

In The Bell Jar

I think that FINALLY that dark and dreary weather I spoke of about five posts and five months ago (that sounds kinda cool?)is finally done, and we can all resume our lives. We can drink out back, the kids can swing and run and jump and ..dig. We can stay out there til the sun goes down. We don't have to wear a lot of clothes. We've had three semi-blizzards here this year and if Spring is teasing us again, well then fuck her. I'm sooooo done with this place.
So yeah, once again, it's Tues-dee, and this is the day of the week that I need a little inspiration. I'm kind of in the Bell Jar lately. So my word today
k, that's two words. if ANYone EVER drops in anymore, throw me a friggin' bone?

Thursday, March 4, 2010

Not that you missed it, but I totally dissed my Tuesday night word club. Sorry.
I just can't get into writing posts here lately. The thing is, I think I'm just feeling too vulnerable. Starting to think people locally and...relatives, etc are secretly reading my blog, but not mentioning it...why don't they? I put it out here, it's not a secret. Anyway, it's weird when people seem to know things about your life they otherwise wouldnt if not for le blog.
Just weird. Or maybe Im wrong. But think deleting is the best thing! Like I said a few months ago, also, being a mom of school kid changes things. Prioroties. Like ranting. Maybe I need to stop.
I dunno.
Word out & up

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Tuesday Night Word Club

Tuesdays are just...Tuesdays. That day. That day your parents pronounce "Tuesdee." The day when you wanna get a little drunk because you haven't since Friday. Because you know it's four more long days til the weekend. The day that's just too damn normal to do anything exciting. The day Sheryl Crow wrote about for that reason. The day that kid-taxi-ing doesn't stop until 5 PM. The day that no holiday, besides Fat Tuesday, which I coincidentally missed, falls on. The most mundane, irrefutably wretched day of the week. Tuesday. Share your thoughts with me on how you feel. This is going to be my new thing to replace last year's Manic Mondays.
Today, this is me:


Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Commercial Musing

During a commercial break from Millionaire Matchmaker (who totally pissed me off by dissing redheads), I saw this commercial that's been bugging me. So I'm sending them a message.
Dear Seasonique and other birth control pills that promise only 3 periods a year and all that shit:
"Who says you have a to have 12 periods a year?" you ask? Mother fuckin' Nature, that's who!
It ain't natural! Where does all that blood go?
Women: do not trust these psychos! I took the normal pill for 13 years and after all of the warnings and links to breast cancer and strokes, after babies I didn't go back. Why? scared shitless!
My answer? Vasectomy, baby! It's about time the men endure a little pain and suffering. We've had ours two years, and let me tell you, it improves the quality of your life. If you still wanna have babies, well, Trojan is really your only decent answer. I'm sorry.
Back to my trashy Bravo TV. Currently the only kind I watch until Californication and Entourage are back.

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

If it's capitalized, it's fer real.

ANOTHER snow day. We're gonna be in school until freakin' July. WTF is up, Mother Nature? Now you're giving all those non-believers in Global Warming more reason to not believe. How could they possibly not believe, though? I mean the term is CAPITALIZED, people! You have no choice.

Anyway, here I am again after two weeks, after thinking I was gonna get regular again. Blogging, that is, don't be gross. But can't seem to muster up much of anything. Life lately has been a series of failed attempts, mostly, including but not limited to: getting regular writing work, cutting back on the wine, losing 10 pounds, being a better wife, being a better mother, cussing less, nourishing family and friendships better, and getting organized.

ANd, to top off all the failure, I chopped my hair off. Could be shaving it after a day trapped inside with Things 1 and 2. And NO wine in the house.

Hasta la Vista, biznitches.